Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(40)

“My approach was subtle, at first, sir. Then, when she punched me, it was less so. Finally I had no choice but to follow her lead.”

The Captain paused before saying, “I am to understand you followed her lead willingly, Lieutenant. Directly to the front line. In front of a well-put-together group of trained, battle-hardened men.”

“Yes, sir. They were also inclined to follow her lead. She has a way about her, sir.”

The Captain stared at Lucius for a tense moment. The other man tried to hold the gaze, but inevitably, as they all did, dropped his gaze to the floor.

“She would have been captured.” The Captain had a hard edge to his voice. Sanders took a step toward the door.

“Yes, sir,” Lucius said weakly.

“She’s a woman. I’m sure you can imagine what would’ve happened had she been captured?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is that a fate you would want for your mother, Lieutenant? Or your sister?”

“No, sir. But in my defense, I wouldn’t have been able to stop her, sir. I tried to fight beside her and keep her safe. It was all I could do.”

After another minute of hard staring, the Captain lowered his head. Then stood. “She is a hard case. Sanders has yet to maintain control over her. Being that he is of higher rank, I can hardly expect you to fare any better. I had hoped, but I see that was in vain.”

“I would like to stay on her detail, sir,” Lucius stated with a high chin.

“You are compromised, Lieutenant.” The Captain spoke simply.

“She’ll trust me now, sir. She doesn’t want followers, she wants men-at-arms beside her.”

The Captain stopped as he headed for the door, his back to his old friend. Lucius took that as a cue to keep going. “She entertains when someone raises an objection to her schemes. She’ll hear my complaints and advice. She’ll defer to me if I can convince her.”

The room got thick and sluggish. Sanders tried to push himself against the wall, not wanting any part of this conversation. Any movement might draw notice. He wanted Lucius to get the post so he wouldn’t have to take it.

Finally the bands that made breathing laborious released and the Captain nodded. “Very well. When you are better, we’ll see how it goes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Out in the hallway the Captain said in conversational tones, “Lucius just did you a favor.”

“I caught that, sir. He’s a better man for it.”

“Yes, he’s always had a heavy dose of courage.”

Sanders cleared his throat. “I saw her fight, sir. He wouldn’t have been able to force her to the hold. Not with his life.”

“I know that. I still wanted him to try. Battle is no place for a woman. Not when she will become a prize.”

“I don’t think she was planning to stay alive long enough to be a prize.”

“For that reason, also.”

They turned a corner and started down the recovery corridor, stopping in front of a wooden door. The Captain knocked twice then immediately stepped back when the door opened. The doctor stepped out, realized who it was, and closed the door behind him.

“You’ve picked a fine time to call on her,” the doctor drawled. “She is out of bed and staggering around the room. Apparently that’s her way of saying she’s miraculously healed after only three days.”

“And how is she faring?” the Captain asked, not put off by the dry delivery.

“Oh, how wonderful. Someone who actually wants her real diagnosis. Two ribs are broken. She is unconcerned about those. Three toes are broken. She concedes that the Mugdock are heavy. There are muscle pulls and strains all over her body. She also helped me do my job by noting her gift is strained, whatever that means.

“Oh, and she has learned a new swear word. It starts with “c”, is predominately used on women in an extremely derogatory way. She thinks it is hilarious. Watch yourself.”

The doctor walked away with a rigid back. Sanders had the feeling the c-word was no longer solely used on women. He couldn’t help but smile. Until he saw the murder in the Captain’s eyes. It sufficiently ruined his mood again.

As the doctor had said, Shanti was standing. Laboriously, but standing. She was leaning against the wall looking out the window, her gaze on the distant trees. Her body looked like an abstract painting, splotched with a myriad of colors, mainly blue, yellow, purple, and red. Between her injuries, her skin was the same translucent white he’d noticed when she was near death in the dead forest. Unlike then, he noticed she had a much better form than when she’d been carried in a few short weeks ago. Her muscle was sinewy and graceful. She was taking on the shape of a woman again, h*ps and br**sts and—

Sanders turned away, which he probably should have done immediately after realizing the piece of fabric on the floor next to the door, as if thrown at a retreating figure, was her nightgown. He had seen many a na**d man, being that there was not much privacy in the field, but he’d only seen na**d women when he was about to—

Shanti turned at the uncomfortable groan.

“Clothes, please,” the Captain said easily, leaning against the far wall. If he was troubled by the perfect form of the na**d woman—

Sanders groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut. He was not strong enough for this.