Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(38)

She was in a sterile-looking room, all white except for the furniture, which was metal. So much metal. This place was so rich it was almost disgusting.

The door opened, revealing a tall man with a thin frame and thinner hair. He had a put-upon expression and a wooden board in his hand.

“Lovely to see you again, Doctor. To what do I owe the privilege?” Shanti asked in a strained voice, trying to ignore the throb of her ribs.

“Yes, it seems your wit is intact. Goodie.” The doctor closed the door behind him, his face getting grimmer.

“How did I get here?”

The doctor pulled a chair from the corner and placed it at the middle of her bed. He sat slowly, crossed his ankle over his knee, and leaned back, thin slab of wood resting on his lap. “You were brought.”

“Ah, this is a game, is it not? Twenty questions? Yes, Leilius loves this game. How is he, by the way? How are they all?”

The doctor surveyed her, his face impassive. “Alive. For now.”

Shanti tried to sit up. Pain stabbed her midsection—definitely cracked ribs—but she pushed through it. The sheet dropped to her mid-section and she realized she was in one of those bloody nightgowns the doctor loved so much.

“What do you mean for now?”

“Ah, you see? It is rather irritating when someone doesn’t adequately answer another’s questions, is it not?”

Shanti glared at him. She knew better than to open her Gift, though. After what she’d done, it would definitely hurt. She winced just thinking of it.

“Yes, painful, isn’t it? Being wounded often has that effect. But what do I know; I’m just a doctor. And yes, we do have a school for that here.”

“Are you going to tell me, or are you going to force me to beat it out of you?”

The doctor gave a loud sigh and looked at his small, rectangular board. “Cadet Leilius is in the mud tub, sitting up to his neck and tied that way, because he kicked Commander Sanders in the shin when he wasn’t allowed in here to make sure you were okay. Gracas is right next to him because he tried to punch Commander Daniels for the same reason. He missed, of course. He now has a black eye. Xavier is carrying rocks from one side of the training yard to the other because he was able to successfully punch Sterling, who had barred his way. Let’s see.” The doctor consulted his board again. “Ah yes, young Marc suffered a stab wound to his leg, but he is mending nicely. Rachie got a rather serious wound down his chest. I have stitched him up, and he will heal in time. He will forever have a scar, but he informed me that women like men with scars, and was excited to test the theory just as soon as he is released.”

Shanti took a minute to thank her Elders their care. She’d grown fond of those boys—she would hate to hear any harm had come to them. “Then what did you mean ‘for now?’”

“The Captain hasn’t gotten around to speaking with them about refusing his orders and following yours.”

“Oh. Yeah, that probably pissed him in.”

“I see you are working on your slang. How lovely. You aren’t quite there yet, however.”

“Lucius?” Shanti continued.

“Will have a great many women, if young Rachie is correct. He is alive, though. Sanders just barely got him out. He didn’t want to leave you. Neither of them did. For some reason.”

“Sanders pulled me out?”

The doctor gave her a flat, assessing stare for a moment. “Sanders couldn’t reach you. He did try, but....” The doctor shrugged with one shoulder.

“Are you trying to teach me humility, doctor? Because the last person who tried was unconscious for twenty-four hours.”

“I don’t doubt that. The difference between me and that unfortunate fellow is that I know a lost cause when I see one.”

Shanti stared at him. She would get up and shake it out of him if she had to. Although, she really hoped she didn’t have to. It hurt just to sit up.

The doctor must have read her mind because a ghost of a smile flickered at his lips. Finally he answered. “The Captain pulled you out. He wasn’t too happy you weren’t in the secure hold.”

Shanti couldn’t help blurting, “The Captain did? Why?”

“That is a great question.”

“How did he get to me?”

“By doing what he does—charging in, taking what he wants, and charging back out leaving a trail of bodies behind him.”

So Cayan had gone after her. But why? Also, what an idiot! He was in charge of a whole city. Risking his life for a foreigner just to get the last laugh was just plain stupidity. And if she didn’t hurt so badly, she would go tell him.

The doctor still gazed at her with his unimpressed countenance. Shanti suspected he loved being put out just for something to make a show of. He said, “He is mending, too, in case you’re wondering. I noticed that you didn’t ask.”

No, she hadn’t. She didn’t want to hear how badly she owed him for her life. For giving her people another chance. It was a large pill to swallow.

The doctor continued in his dry voice. “He had cuts all up and down his left and right side. Gashes, fairly deep, in his back. Two bruised bones, but nothing was broken. Here’s a question for you: some of the recovered bodies, those that died at your feet and another, oh, sixty paces out or so, didn’t have a mark on them. They died in agony, that was clear, and most were clawing at their face, eyes or head—one had bloodied his ears—but none had an actual wound. Would you know anything about that?”