Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(58)

Shanti stared at his hand in confusion. He didn’t have the Gift, why would he request a mind link?

“Shake his hand, dear,” Molly whispered.

“It’s okay.” Sterling lowered his hand to his side. “That is just our custom. How do you greet someone in your land?” His stare was flat and intense, his complete focus on the conversation. Shanti tried not to squirm under the heavy gaze, strangely wanting to punch him.

“We offer a slight bow. If we are great friends or feel so inclined, we’ll touch, as you just did, but that represents a deeper intimacy. However, since I’m in your city, I won’t be rude.” She extended her hand, palm up.

“The woman has palm down, dear,” Molly murmured.

Shanti flipped her hand. Without hesitation, gaze locked with hers in a flat stare, Sterling raised his hand, palm up, until it met Shanti’s. Warm and calloused—if her eyes were closed, she’d know he was good with a bow and decent with a sword. Which was strange, since he was excellent with a bow and more than decent with a sword. He must’ve taken pains to soften his hands. Interesting.

The touch lingered for a second, then he pulled away. “You know that I have been trying to find your trainings.”

“You know that I’ve been trying to evade.”

He smiled slightly. “Yes. Not at first—I thought I was unlucky. Then you started having them when it was most convenient for me. Always a step ahead. It was not a subtle clue.”

Shanti laughed. “It was good training for us. Is good training, I should say.”

“They’re getting better.”

“That’s funny, I would’ve said the same about you.”

He laughed this time. “No. I’m learning the signs. I thought I was learning faster than you could teach. Then you sent me on a ghost trail.”

“That was Leilius.”

Sterling glanced over Shanti’s shoulder then back to her. “I have left my date. I should get back to her. Before I do, I would just like to say… I wrongly judged you. I see that you’re not like… I see that you mean well, and are what you say.”

She couldn’t repay the sentiment. He was exactly how she’d judged.

“Have a good evening.” He gave her a deep bow, his interpretation of her custom, and walked away smoothly.

Without a moment for reflection, Molly took her by the arm and led her across the room. Why? Who could say. They picked a new place to stand seemingly at random, that spot just as good as the first. The next spot was, too. If Molly wanted exercise, they could have walked to the ball in the first place.

“How long do we have to stay?” Shanti asked as they followed a slowly moving crowd around the room like cattle.

“At least until the dancing. Do you want something to drink besides water?”

“No. Thank you.”

For the next couple dozen minutes Molly chatted, introduced her to a handful of people who stared, and walked around the room slowly. It was boring and awful and Shanti just wanted to go home. Until she saw Jerrol. He was with a woman who had many gems on her neck, all different colors, and a bright purple dress. She was pretty and he was beautiful. Shanti wanted him if only to make love while looking into those earth brown eyes, so like Romie’s she got a tight feeling in her gut every time she saw him.

“Shanti.”

And that ruined it.

She turned to Cayan, standing tall and broad, no willowy woman in sight. In fact, Molly had wandered away as well. Just great.

“Hi Cayan.”

His gaze connected with hers, giving her a similar stare as Sterling had, but not as strangely flat. He raised his hand slowly, palm up. It wasn’t a good idea, but then, people were watching—he probably wanted to look normal.

After a brief hesitation she touched her palm to his, holding her mind in check and ready to battle. Instead of his torrent, though, she got a pleasant vibration of power, available but not used. In addition, that strange spicy feeling unfurled deep in her stomach, sizzling up her ribcage and fizzing through her limbs. She asked him about the latter.

“The spicy feeling--yes. I like it. Is it not normal?”

“I don’t know. No one has ever mentioned it to me if it is. You’re doing well with your control.”

“I’ve been practicing religiously.”

“Good.”

They broke contact, Cayan letting his focus flick to her dress and back. “Your dress is exquisite. It is risque but covers everything. Artistic but simple. Cut beautifully. I think the dressmakers are already trying to fabricate it. Many women are jealous.”

“Jealous of a dress. Silly.”

“Jealous of the enchanting woman, not the dress she is in.”

“Enchanting—spell casting?”

Cayan’s eyes twinkled. “If you please.”

Shanti turned away to look at the crowd laughing and chatting, most of the party often glancing toward her and the Captain. “I’ve never heard witches talked of in a positive way. I think the jealousy is of your date. She is the staple of beauty, is she not?”

Cayan’s gaze was still on her. “She is, yes. How are your nightmares? Lucius tells me you have them every night.” To her scathing glance he said, “Your walls are thin and your screams loud.”

The Captain had stuck her in a tiny, one bedroom house, more aptly called a hut, attached to Lucius’ much larger house at the back of the city. She had been given the illusion of privacy while Lucius’ duty of spying was made easy.