Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(18)

His eyes sparkled, as if she’d said something humorous. He didn’t address it, though, instead saying, “Is that right? And how will you survive in underwear with no food or water?”

“Do you call what I am wearing underwear? Absurd. It covers me more thoroughly than that green sack. Regardless, I smell wooded lands. Those are enough for me. Blindfold me to the exit, if that is your wish, then turn me loose. I have seen nothing of your city, nor do I care to. I thank you for what you have done for me, but would appreciate it if this is the end.”

The Captain’s eyes smiled even though his face remained passive. He crossed in front of her, just barely out of arm’s reach. He was trying to intimidate her. Annoyingly, it was working.

He walked straight toward the couch and sat down, making himself comfortable. The material looked soft and supple as it molded to his shapely backside. She longed to sit on it.

“We’re constantly at war with the Mugdock,” the Captain was saying. “They’re picking fights more often lately. The way you were headed leads right into their many camps. They’re trying to block out the trade routes to the sea. The difference between them and us is that they won’t house you until you regain your strength. They’ll rape you until they grow tired of you, then they’ll kill you. Possibly with much pain.”

“Please don’t hold back for my sake,” Shanti said in dry tones.

“You’re not strong enough to go far. You’ll fall right into their hands, then I’ll have Sanders and a few of these boys trying to play hero. I can’t turn you loose, at least not if you’re going that way.”

“Ah yes, a mother. I had one of those, once. She was prettier, though. I don’t need another. Give me my things and let me go. Please. I can get through your enemies just fine.”

“So you are going that way, then. Toward the sea, hum?”

Shanti stared, ignoring his smug tone. She was getting tired and sloppy. She also wasn’t getting any closer to her things.

Actually…

She slid her foot across the floor toward the desk. No one moved to stop her. One more step. The boys, looking more like a flock of geese than fighters in a line, started to fidget, sensing a trap. So did she.

One more step. The Captain looked at her pleasantly, a small smile playing around his lips, dimples making tiny indentations in his cheeks. The Commanders made no movement at all. The boys leaned back, as if she was about to grab a snake.

She reached in.

It was like a handshake that got cut off midway. The two taller commanders stepped at her with swords drawn, lightning speed. The shorter commander fingered a knife, not bothering to crowd her. He was probably waiting to see if she got through the others, then he’d tackle her. The Captain was up with throwing knife in hand, poised to throw.

Great technique.

Her own reactions were slow and clumsy, her muscles confounded and screaming in protest. She clutched the hilt, she hefted it, couldn’t hold on, then threw it across the room with an uncoordinated jerk. It skidded against the baseboards near the feet of the boys. The young men scattered, throwing themselves out of the way, or diving behind the desk like idiots.

Two sword blades glinted at her throat, the hands holding them steady and confident. Their feet were shoulder width, ready to move and perfectly balanced. The Captain, seeing she wasn’t planning to rush to her death, sat down confidently and tucked his knife into his belt.

Two heads poked up from the side of the desk and Shanti resisted an urge to blind them with an ink bottle.

“I guess that answers the question of whether it’s your sword,” the Captain said in amusement.

Shanti ground her teeth in annoyance. Playing along would behoove her, but she hated his smug surety that women could not wield weapons.

She took a slow step toward him, feeling out the men holding the swords. The more organized commander relented slightly, pulling his sword away to match her advance. The other, the oldest of the army men, did not. Her skin kissed the metal. The metal bit back. A small pearl of blood welled up on the blade.

The boys hissed.

“Well, then. Point proven, it seems.” Shanti stepped back. “If you ever go up against the Mardis, which are all women by the way, this man is the one for the front line.” She jerked a thumb at the gray-templed commander.

And then something else surprised her. The other commander, the one who had pulled away, swung his sword forward again, his mind oozing mistrust and anger.

Another interesting reaction.

“Mardis? Is that your people?” the Captain asked lightly. A hard edge had infiltrated his eyes.

So they’d had a run-in with the Mardis. Not good.

“No. Sex slaves are not my thing. I prefer my men willing. Now, since I am obviously in over my head, I think I might just try out the couch?”

“Please.” The Captain stood gracefully and gestured for her to sit opposite on the couch facing him.

Shanti crossed the room gratefully, swords falling away as the men stepped back. She surveyed her sword as she passed, making sure it didn’t have any damage. Continuing on, she reached the couch and sank in, sighing gratefully as her body sank into the plush leather.

“Oh Elders, I thank you for this treat. What workmanship!” Shanti closed her eyes.

“You aren’t worried about the blade?” the Captain lowered back down.