Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(86)

He felt like a worm watching a giant boot descend.

“Cadet, yes. How are the wounded?”

“Um, okay, I guess. Sir. Five are dying. Shanti—uh, S’am, the foreign woman—is easing their troubles somehow. She doesn’t say how, but it seems to help. They look peaceful.”

“And you can do nothing for them?”

“No, sir. I tried. They have wounds that cannot be sewn or otherwise healed. Too deep or internal, with too much blood loss. If we had a full hospital it would only make a difference to one of them, and that would probably still be a losing battle.”

“I see. And what of Sanders and the two others?”

“Sh—the foreign woman, um—“

“Calling her by her name is acceptable, Cadet.” The Captain’s voice softened, if a steel sieve could be called soft.

“Yes, sir. Well, she is doing something with them, too. It is sapping her energy, though, sir. She is fading. Visibly fading.”

The Captain’s eyes glowed faintly for a quick moment. It was eerie and a little scary. The man didn’t need any more ways to freak Marc out, but he kept finding them. “Yes, I see. I will monitor that, Cadet. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

The Captain went to turn away but Marc didn’t leave. It was not why he had come. Not the only reason, anyway. Sometimes he truly hated his life. “Uh, sir?”

He was met with that stare again. He wasn’t being rushed; the Captain always had time for everyone, but a guy didn’t have to be prodded to want to walk away. Not with those hard eyes trapping him. “Yes, Cadet?”

“Um, well, two things. One, she won’t eat. She just keeps saying she’s not hungry. She’s only had a small amount since the end of the battle yesterday. Lucius is busy, and I know you are too, but Commander Sanders can’t help because—well, he’s…you know—and no one else will probably be any good. Her body is trying to heal, she is trying to heal others as well…she needs to eat or she’ll get sick. Or worse.”

The Captain was walking before Marc had finished. Since he hadn’t gotten to the second problem, and he hadn’t been told he was excused, he jogged to catch up.

“And the second thing?”

Oh good, following had been the right decision.

He cut off a sigh as the impatient blue gaze swept his way. “And, uh, maybe you don’t care, or are glad, but she said she’s leaving after her shoulder heals. It’s not a bad wound—it won’t take long to heal. Not with her accelerated rate, anyway. She says she is better off alone. She also made a comment that she would have no people unless she got help—“

The Captain stopped abruptly and turned to him. “Tell me exactly what she said.”

Marc’s legs started to tremble. Oh God, he should have written it down. He relayed as much as he could remember and did broad strokes for the rest. He tried not to stammer, but his brain was having a hard time refraining from telling his legs to run. When he was done the Captain was silent for a beat.

“Who else heard?” he finally said.

“Leilius. That’s it.”

“Do you know what it means? What she meant?”

“Uh-mm, I assume it meant that some of her people made it to safety and are awaiting her return with help. She must have stashed the best and the brightest if they hope to have a chance, right? And that she had thought this man that she loved was going to safety with them, but he didn’t. And even though she just killed the man who killed him, then well, if that’s true, it’s bringing the grief right back up to the surface, I would guess. And someone who was paired with her, to protect her, like Lieutenant Lucius does, died. So probably for her, right? Probably to help her escape? She’s obviously as powerful as everyone seems to think she is, so she’s the jewel that everyone wants to claim to win the war, right? And now there is you…um…”

Something had changed in the Captain’s face. His eyes turned hard and intense. Marc lowered his eyes and tried to shrink out of the way, hoping the Captain left him standing there and moved on.

“Insightful.” No such luck. “Do you have reason to believe Leilius put any of that together?”

“Uh, n-no, sir. He was too worried about the tears.”

“Whose? Shanti’s?”

“Yes, sir.”

Marc heard a deep breath and a slow exhale. Then, “I’m sure I don’t have to impress upon you that that is information you are not to share?”

“N-no, sir. You are the one I thought should have that, uh, knowledge. Sir.”

“Correct. Well done.” His feet didn’t move, and since that was all Marc could see of him, he didn’t really know what was going on, and he didn’t want to look up to find out. So he waited quietly.

“So she does have people.” The Captain sounded like he was half talking to himself. “They must have saved some, knowing they couldn’t win. What a decision to have to make. She had to send her people to their death, hide those that gave them the best chance for their future, and save herself. She had to play God with those she had known all her life—deciding who lived and who died. Even had to track down the captured and kill them in an act of mercy. Could I have done that?”

Rhetorical? Probably. Marc continued to stare at the ground and pretend like he couldn’t hear the conversation spoken to the top of his head.