Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(57)

His mistake.

Unfortunately, for the fact that he understood how important Cayan was to the city meant his kind did, too. If they knew, it was only a matter of time before the Graygual knew. A timer had started on Cayan’s life. On the lives of everyone in the city, actually. Shanti had prolong the inevitable, but eventually Black Death would come calling, trying to snatch another soul for the Underworld.

Her duty was growing by the day.

Sanders had been gone for two days on the first trade run. Knowing that one of the Inkna wanted to kill the Captain was enough to make Shanti advise cancelling the trip. Sanders and the other blockheads decided, however, that it would be best to act like they had no idea of the treachery. They had brought plenty of guys, they were going to an open location, and they doubted anything more serious than failure to pay could happen.

It had not helped her rapport with the Captain and his top tier of men that she cursed them all and told them how absolutely stupid they all were.

“You look wonderful.”

Shanti came out of her reverie to notice Molly standing over her, holding a strand of green, sparkling gems. It was a half an hour until the ball, which was mainly for the city’s elite. Apparently anyone with some power wanted a reason to pat themselves on the back. She had no idea why the Captain insisted she go.

Shanti threw a quick glance down at her silk dress, which clung and flowed over her peaks and valleys, like a cascade of water over glistening rocks. She’d been asked to dress in something appropriate for her people, and so she’d given specifications to a dressmaker for the design. She had not specified a color. What she received back was almost exactly the shade of green she’d worn and discarded in front of the Captain at their first meeting. She had a suspicion the dressmaker had a sense of humor. Also that Molly was a gossip.

“Wearing paint on my face isn’t a great idea,” Shanti declared. “When I rub my eyes, I’ll smear it down my face.”

“Yes, dear, but it makes you look glamorous. Very exotic.”

Exotic. That was Molly’s favorite descriptor. That, or striking. In other words, not beautiful, but well appreciated for putting in the effort.

Shanti didn’t care. She wasn’t here to find suitors.

She pulled her long, blond hair off her shoulders so Molly could fasten the necklace. “A necklace is a great way to allow someone to choke you without having to bring their own supplies,” she muttered.

Molly tsk’ed. “Hush, now. The Captain won’t let anything happen to you.”

She stepped back and turned Shanti around. Her gaze glided over Shanti’s form. “I do wish you would’ve worn something a little more…usual. I can see the outline of your thighs!”

Shanti ignored her.

“Anyway, the buggy is here. You look striking, dear.”

A jostling ride in a horse drawn cabbage cart later—why she wasn’t allowed to walk was beyond her—she and Molly, who was going as something called a chaperone, walked into Cayan’s large mansion in the middle of the city. The residence was ablaze with candles, showing off spacious rooms with large windows and high ceilings. The furniture and decorations expressed the utter wealth of the city and the many extravagances they took for granted: metal stands holding candles, huge canvas tapestries on the walls, wood and leather furniture. The Inkna had a good eye for such things. It was only a matter of time before they showed up again, like sea foam before the tide.

They entered a spacious main room with candles hanging from large, shining metal and gem contraptions that looked like upside-down spiders. Candles on stands, like in the streets but more delicate, stood on tables and graced the walls. There were flames everywhere. Apparently no one realized how dangerous fire was.

“This mansion is a family heirloom,” Molly said conversationally, gesturing around them at the finery of the large mansion. “It has been in the family as long as the family has been in charge of running the city. Way back when they were called kings. Now they are Captains. That change came with our Captain’s great-great-grandfather, of course.”

“Uh huh.” Shanti didn’t care. She also had no idea why she said she’d come.

“Oh look, there he is now.”

Cayan was standing across the room dressed in a black, long sleeved shirt that hugged his upper body. His cloth pants moved and sighed with his body, proving men’s fashion, unlike women’s, was reasonably comfortable. His features were straight and bold, softened by his blue eyes and luscious mouth, especially when he dared smile and reveal the dimples. The shadow of raven facial hair had been removed for the occasion.

He cleaned up well.

Which was an understatement.

He lounged next to a willowy woman with slim shoulders, a long, delicate neck, and hair pulled up in weaves and twists accented with small flowers and buds. Her br**sts heaved out of her cream colored dress in a display of cle**age most babies would reach for, and her waist cinched down in fashionable torture. Her skin was a hair darker than Cayan’s bronze, and her hair a touch lighter than Cayan’s wavy dark brown. She was distractingly beautiful.

“We’ll say hello to him later, dear. They are talking to a counselor.” Molly patted her arm and led her to a stand of drinks like a goat with a leash.

They hadn’t been there two heartbeats before Shanti heard, “Hello.”

Sterling was standing to her right, straight faced and grim, as usual, this time with his hand held out, palm up. He was a handsome man, if a girl didn’t have a sense of humor.