Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(23)

He’d become a life Shanti couldn’t, in good conscience, take away.

But if he was the same as her, with his Gift, it was only a matter of time before the greed and filth that was the Graygual-way corrupted him, either by turning him to their cause, or debasing him and breeding him out. If he could further the war effort, he would become enemy number one—with or without the will to do so. And for that reason, he would have to die. It was just one more part of her duty that would scar her for life.

And how many were there besides him? It was too big of a coincidence she would stumble upon the path of the only other. There had to be more. And if so, was the Being Supreme aware?

A shot of adrenaline pierced her. What if the Being Supreme had others? What if those others were being trained? What if the Graygual were making headway on their arsenal of minds?

“Are you okay?”

Shanti was up and moving before the sentence finished, startled into action. She lashed out with a foot, hammering it into his hip joint. She met hard muscle. She rammed her fist into his solar plexus, this time with much more force. His breath gushed out, but a quick step to the side had him ready for the next attack, then defending, as she swiped a foot through the air, aimed at his head. He batted her away, always on the move.

Shanti pummeled her fists into his gut, meeting more hard muscle. Yanking his wrist down with one hand, she jolted his elbow with the other. He flung her off, making her stumble before regaining her balance. She shoved her fingers toward his eyes. Near miss. Her foot at the ready, she swung, and met solid back. A leg sweep, which he jumped over, landing perfectly on the balls of his feet, quick and agile. And much stronger.

She was already panting. Her body was screaming. Her speed was half-mast. Her mind wasn’t even that far along.

He wasn’t attacking. He was taking the easy hits and dodging the damaging ones. Placating.

Well that was a little embarrassing.

With a grimace of defeat, Shanti halted her advance.

The Captain stood immobile as she wound down, waiting to see if she would throw another hit. She didn’t bother. Even with a sword she couldn’t defeat him. Not in mind or body. Not yet.

It had been two weeks and she was barely farther along. No more stalling.

She sank to the ground, breathing heavy, the weight that had settled onto her chest making it hard to draw breath. He sat down beside her quietly.

“You can fight.” It was that deep gravel that gave her shivers, currently subdued. He let the hush of their surroundings filter into his tone.

“Sorry. You startled me.”

“Sanders said you had muscle tone fit for a soldier, and calluses to match.”

“He’s correct. Although I’m a long way from fit. Too far. I haven’t been healing in the right ways—something this wood will hopefully rectify.”

“Those weapons are yours.”

She nodded her head slightly.

“I figured it when I measured the leg harness—it’s too small for a man.”

She nodded again.

“Is it blood sport? Is that why you fight? Are you running from the people that make you do it? I can help you. Protect you. We do not tolerate that sort of violence here.”

A pang of longing stabbed her. If only he could protect her. If only it was something as small as a domineering mate or an imprisoning culture. She sighed, blinking tears from her eyes. “It is not sport. I train, I fight, I kill if necessary. Like you. I am not running from whatever it is you imagine. I am not preyed upon because of my sex. I was not a slave and I was never mated. Nor raped. I intend to keep it that way.”

He nodded quietly, clearly out of his element regarding what sort of women fought when they didn’t have to. Letting it go, he murmured, “Fair enough. But you’re far from home. Are you home sick? Do you need money to get somewhere? Include me on your plans and I can help.”

She laughed sardonically. “Homesick, yes. Every moment of my life, waking or otherwise. Do I need money? No, thank you. There’s nothing to go back to.”

“So you’re running, then?”

“For now, yes. For good, no.”

The rainbow looked like it was caught in a whirlpool. “Are you giving me vague answers on purpose?”

“Are you purposely asking questions in my time of vulnerability for a better chance of getting answers?”

“I don’t like to see a woman alone without resources, or vulnerable, if I can help her.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

The Captain paused. Then snorted and looked out at the trees.

“Exactly,” Shanti whispered.

“You’ve picked up our language quickly,” he began again. He bent his knee and looped a large arm over it.

“I already knew it, as you remember.”

“Your accent is much improved, your word choices are intelligent, and your swear words are…colorful.”

It was Shanti’s turn to snort. “Set young boys to match my steps and I get the choicest cuts of colorful language.”

“Sanders said he hasn’t seen you since you went to stay with him.”

Shanti picked up a blade of grass. The filtered sun highlighted it in splotches as she twirled it in her fingers. “You’re trying to punish him for some reason, while getting someone capable to keep an eye on me. He’s trying to live his life. I’m allowing him to do that. He needs to feel free to talk to his mate. He needs license to have loud, obnoxious sex. Why he doesn’t is beyond me, but it is not my fault.”