Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(27)

“I see. I’m thinking of moving her location. Junice has developed a sort of loyalty to her. I would rather not have you compromised.”

The Captain was losing faith in Sanders’ ability to follow orders. It stung. Sanders had always been a career man, loyal to a fault. This foreign woman was starting to be a cancer to his life, disruptive in every way. And it was true—Junice was constantly singing her praises, though the foreign woman did nothing to help around the house.

Sanders nodded grudgingly.

“I’ll arrange the move tomorrow at noon,” the Captain said with finality. “Get her that experienced guard, and let him know that if he starts to feel even the smallest bit of loyalty toward her, he will be answering directly to me.”

“How long do you plan to keep her here?”

The Captain glanced up at his timepiece and looked back down at his papers. “Until she tells me who she is, and how I can help or hinder her progress, depending on her story.”

Oh good, the Captain was in a pissing contest with a strange girl from God-knew-where. Madness. Definitely madness setting in.

Sanders turned on his heel and headed out without another word.

Chapter 11

“They are coming.”

Shanti looked around, confused.

Where was she?

In the wood. Not her home wood, though. Not the wood—

“Chosen, they are coming. We must get ready.”

Shanti turned to the man on her left. Tall, strong, and steady, he was safety with a staff. He would protect her at all costs. He had absolutely no equal, save herself. But he had not heard how many came their way. Their best strategic minds, their best planners, and the best ground moving crew they had, would not stop the horde coming. They were but one nation, fighting many. She was on the losing end of a blood bath, and she knew it. All the Head Staff did.

With the confidence born of her role, and the loyalty born of inspiring and leading by example, Shanti followed her Chance to the lookout cusp. She was the Chosen. She needed to survive this day. She needed to distract this horde long enough to get an already selected group of their people to a safe location. There they would remain until Shanti came back with her people’s long separated blood relations. She would reunite the tribes, declaring war on the nation threatening to bend the knee of the entire land.

“They are coming,” he said again.

As they moved into position, it echoed.

They are coming…

*****

In a cold sweat, Shanti sat straight up in bed, her hair plastered to the side of her head. She’d had that nightmare a great many times since it had been a reality, but never had it stopped before blood was spilt. Never had she woken up with that lingering warning.

She registered the still night. The calm of the wood, so close, breathed fresh air through her cracked window. As the breeze tickled her face, drying her sweat, a force tickled her barriers, asking to be let in.

Memories of her youth assaulted her. Screaming. A child tottering down the lane covered in blood …

Flashes of imagery wrestled with her self-control. Dowsed her in fear. Dragged her under the surface of panic.

She scrambled up and raced into Sanders’ room, desperately trying to get ahold of herself. Something was coming, and she was as vulnerable as a child without her weapons.

“Sanders!” she bellowed, then braced for defense. You never surprised fighting men out of a dead sleep unless you were prepared, or did not value your life. Thankfully his reaction was to jump onto the bed, and crouch over his wife with short-sword in hand. His teeth were bared, his muscles taxed.

“Something is coming!” Shanti whispered fiercely.

Sanders was down off the bed and in her face surprisingly quickly. “What do you mean? What is? How do you know?”

“Someone… I don’t know. I don’t know what it is, Sanders, I am a foreigner here. Something bad is focused this way. Someone with malice. Someone filthy—a lot of someone’s, actually.”

Sanders relaxed slightly. “You had a dream, Shanti. Go to bed.”

“What’s going on?” Junice said with a thick voice. She sat up slowly, eyes puffy with sleep. “Avery, is that a sword? What’s going on?”

“Sanders, I need my weapons. Now,” Shanti exclaimed. “I will not face whatever is coming without my sword.”

“Nothing is coming…” Sanders’ voice dropped an octave. “Why are you so sure something is coming?”

“I feel it, Sanders. Now, as I stand here, I feel it. FLAK!” Shanti shook her head impatiently. This was getting her nowhere. Sanders didn’t trust her, he couldn’t sense what she could, and he was too stubborn to listen to reason. She needed her Honor Guard.

She made it one step before she felt his intention. She whirled to her right, narrowly missing Sanders’ grab.

“Don’t do this, Sanders. We are not having this fight right here.”

He repositioned himself in front of the door. “You are not leaving this house, Shanti. I don’t like the way you’re talking. The Captain is right; there is something off with you.”

“The Captain thinks there is something off with me, does he?” She huffed, glancing at the window. She was faster than him—she didn’t need to go through if she could go around. “Doesn’t like looking in a mirror, perhaps? Doesn’t matter. I am not going to stay in this town and get killed.”