Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(25)

The next message tumbling down the chain of command was simply, “Be nice.”

It was one blissful afternoon where not being nice was the name of the game. Having thrown off her persistent Honor Guard for the moment, Shanti walked into the training grounds, the location of which she was absolutely not supposed to know. It was a large open area nestled in the middle of a copse of trees at the extreme southern end of the city. The outside wall was easily visible, with no cover or branches close enough that a person could climb up and hop over. She never bothered to point out that the wall was made of rough stone with large masonry cracks; climbing wasn’t difficult.

She’d already proven that assessment. And gotten her Honor Guard in trouble for not having the man-rocks to climb up after her and pull her back down.

Shanti spotted Sanders immediately. He stood in the middle of a group of men around Shanti’s age, showing some sort of knife throw. It was a move only large, strong men could do with other large, strong men, because it was clunky and easy to slip out of if you were in any way nimble.

The far corner had a wall set up with targets. Men of all ages loitered around, throwing knives like they might throw a ball. While most had great aim, they applied terrible technique. Such an easy thing to master, and yet it was an anomaly on these training grounds. Ridiculous.

“Can I help you?”

Shanti turned to a man in his early thirties with a dirty, sweat-stained shirt and loose pants. His honeyed skin provided a natural block against the intense heat. His face was broad but features delicate, barely on the masculine side of pretty. His eyes, though…

Shanti felt a pang of longing as she gazed into those eyes. Warm brown, like the earth, almost exactly the same color and shape as Romie’s had been.

Shanti smiled, her stomach fluttering. Remembering. “Oh no, you and yours are providing plenty of distraction, thank you.”

“I don’t believe you’re supposed to be here.” His beautiful eyes started to twinkle. She wanted to fall in immediately and never come out.

“Actually, Commander Sanders gave me these knives.“ Shanti produced the stolen blades from the belt of her stolen pants. “He said I should try to throw them.”

The man laughed, a pleasing sound that tickled her below her stolen belt line. “I doubt that.”

“Are you calling your commanding officer a liar?” Her voice took on a sharp edge. If he didn’t go for that, she had a strictly feminine purr at the ready. She had about fifteen more minutes before her Honor Guard found her, and less than that before Sanders did. She wanted to throw her knives and make all the boys squeal.

But then, she also had a half a mind to make this boy squeal. Decisions.

His eyes rounded and he shook his head. “No, ma’am. Let me take you to Commander Sanders.”

“I see him. Why don’t you take me to the Pit instead? He said he’d meet me there…”

Knowing what they called the area to throw knives obviously gave her credibility. As they headed over, thankfully not in clear view of Sanders, Shanti said, “So what is your name?”

“Jerrol, ma’am. And you are the foreign woman.”

“Shanti, yes. Tell me, Jerrol, does your city have a ban on pre-mating intercourse?”

“Mating?”

“Um…you know…” Shanti searched for the word, “what you call wife and husband?”

“Married, you mean. Uh…” With an embarrassed smile he looked around, trying to make sure no one overheard their conversation. Talking about sex was apparently restricted. Pity.

“Lovers are taboo in this culture, then, is that correct?” she pushed.

“Lovers?”

She wasn’t making him squeal so much as squeak.

It was just her luck that she landed, half dead, into a prudish culture where women wore entire rolls of fabric on their person, each gender was afraid of seeing the other naked, sex was quiet of all things, and only the men protected their people. She couldn’t have been more out of place if she’d dreamed up a joke for herself.

“Forget I said anything. Until the ban ceases, of course.”

They arrived at the Pit, Jerrol now walking slightly closer than he had before their conversation. Shanti watched the proceedings for a scant two seconds before a lifetime of duty and leadership had her marching over to a man her senior by probably ten years. His form was decent, but it only needed a slight tweak to be much more effective.

“What is your rank, solider?” she asked gruffly, emulating Sanders. It made her feel stupid, not speaking to him like a human being, but it was the way they did things here. These men liked to keep things in routine. Much like toddlers.

The man hesitated. He knew he was talking to a woman, knew he should escort her out of harm’s way, but probably figured he’d get a thump for it. He was right on two counts.

“Staff Officer...” he responded.

“Name?”

“Derek.”

“Staff Officer Derek, you are holding that knife all kinds of wrong. Here let me…”

“WHAT IS SHE DOING IN THE PIT?”

Alas, Sanders was more observant than she had given him credit for.

The man in front of her tried not to shrivel out of the way. He was the only one.

Shanti turned to face the oncoming rage of the most vicious man in their military—if the rumors were to be believed. She was rather curious what he would do. Then bored, because instead of kicking her in the head, he immediately reached for her arm to drag her away. She evaded easily.