Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(55)

It was the foreigner who gave Sanders pause. The slight man sat as peacefully as could be, not at all worried about possible torture. Almost as if he had the upper hand.

Delusion, that was. If left up to the prison guards, the torture would’ve started, asking questions of the stranger’s involvement in this land. None of Sanders’ men liked anomalies in general, and certainly not anomalies in league with their sworn enemy.

Speaking of the sworn enemy, that filthy Mugdock was the reason for the incredible stink. It was like a farm animal that stayed out of the rain. It almost singed the nostrils it was so potent.

Did they not have the ability to smell? How could they stand themselves?

The Mugdock would’ve been tortured for a different reason—for revenge of comrades lost, of ancestors stolen, and material goods destroyed. Pretty simple, but the two Peoples had a long history.

Sanders, of course, would just as soon kill them both and be done with it. He didn’t have the stomach for torture. Nor the patience, if he was being honest. A clean, fast death was the way to go. It’s what he’d want for himself, and what he would give to someone else.

Wasn’t his show, though. He was just the grunt. And, unfortunately, in charge of the prison. And that was only because the men listened to him where they wouldn’t Sterling or Daniels. The Captain didn’t want these prisoners roughed up just yet, and Sanders was the man keeping everyone at bay.

Sometimes he hated being good at his job. Especially when it smelled this bad.

As if hearing the thought, the Captain walked in, an eraser wiping all Sanders’ thoughts from his head. Shanti stood right behind his boss, Lucius in tow. All the men already standing around the prison backed against the wall, giving ample room for the leader of the city.

“Have they told you anything?” the Captain asked in that low, gravely rumble that could loosen a man’s bowels.

Sanders shook his head. “We’ve done some light coaxing, but nothing too extreme.”

The Captain turned to Shanti, who was staring at the occupant furthest from the door. The foreigner. Her face looked like a freshly peeled scab, pain dripping down her face. She didn’t notice the Mugdock, even though he was reaching through the bars at her. She didn’t notice Sanders or any of Sanders’ men. She only had eyes for that man in the far cell, silently gazing back.

The Captain stared at the Mugdock, a small nerve pulsing in his jaw. He spoke to Shanti. “We need information out of them. They won’t tell us anything. I would rather not torture, but that is the next step. Can you…convince them to give us anything?”

Shanti’s arm drifted toward the Captain, her gaze still locked with the far prisoner. “Touch lightly but keep within yourself. Don’t reach. Lucius, don’t wait so long if we lose ourselves.”

Lucius shifted nervously, shuffling closer to the two as if it was the last thing he wanted to do. The Captain stared at Shanti’s outstretched hand with determination, probably the only pretty girl he was afraid to touch. The Captain reached out tentatively and touched her arm with his pointer finger. His face strained immediately; hers cleared. Both of their eyes started glowing faintly, which was Lucius’ cue to step closer, his hands reaching for their shoulders. In a few seconds it was over, Shanti stepping back quickly and the Captain reaching for the wall to steady himself. Sanders just shook his head.

“Better,” Shanti said distractedly, her gaze finding the man in the last cell again. A small smile played on the prisoner’s face.

“Start with the Mugdock. It won’t matter if you kill him,” the Captain said gently, his face all kinds of compassionate. “Hopefully you won’t be so keyed up by the time you get to the other.” Without looking away, he addressed the cluster of men in the room. “Everyone besides Lieutenant Lucius and Commander Sanders, clear out.”

Sanders took two steps toward the door, watching the retreating backs of the prison guards with envy. Being in the same room with the Captain and the foreign woman was enough to get a man stabbed. Or worse. Much, much worse, in fact. Even though it might feel good. Which made it even worse still.

Shanti approached the Mugdock slowly with that panther’s grace, her gaze often straying toward the man in the last cell.

“So you do exist,” the foreigner said. His thick accent curled the words at the ends like burnt paper. His trickle of a smile was just visible in the gloom.

Shanti didn’t stop at the Mugdock’s cell. Instead, she kept stalking toward the smug foreigner. “Yes. You have found me.”

“And you found a mate. We thought it was impossible.” His gaze flicked toward the Captain.

“No. No mate. Not your master, nor anyone else.”

“He is only my master when it suits. Until now, it has suited. But now I have found you, and you have found a mate. The legends say that once you find a mate, your power will increase. I like to be on the side of the winner. And you have a wealthy mate with knowledge to turn rocks into treasures. I could be an asset to you. I know how to multiply treasures.”

Shanti squared her shoulders at the man in the cell. “The legends are wrong. I had a mate before, and I did not get stronger. Your kind killed him.”

“I do not think you understand how I use the term mate.”

“Maybe not, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll play both sides if allowed. But you will not be allowed. I will kill you long before then.”