Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(91)

“No.”

He climbed to his feet. “I want to see it happen. I want to know what it feels like.”

“I know you can hit really hard. I don’t ask you to prove it.”

“That’s because you already know how to hit.”

Shanti put her fists on her hips. “You know how to do what I just did; all you have to do is apply more power. And then it hurts more.”

“An ape knows that much.” It sounded like Sanders.

Cayan ignored him. “Show me.”

“No.”

“Would it kill me?”

She stared at him. He stared back. The field was dead quiet. “If you were unprepared, like you just were, and didn’t fight back, then yes, it would kill you.”

“And the lady just took the lead,” Tobias muttered off to the side.

Cayan let a hard breath tumble out of his mouth. “Then, for now, let’s just spar. I will need to practice before you do any real harm.”

“So the girl wins mentally, but we still have the physical battle. At your leisure, my lord,” Tobias mediated.

Cayan was no longer in a laughing mood. She’d shaken him. He had just learned how ill trained he really was. The next time he showed up to spar, she had a feeling she would be back-pedaling before she could fight him off.

The purely physical sparring lasted for the next hour. They were well matched, but Tobias had been right; Cayan was bigger and stronger, although not faster. At least not enough for it to count. His reach was what killed her. She had to duck in and out of his long arms, and a few times she got tangled inside. On those instances he grabbed her, gave whatever part of her body he had hold of a quick, though playful fondle, always laughing, then threw her across the field.

The first time it happened, the guys watching had sucked in a breath. Cayan had given her butt a hard pinch and a sound slap. They didn’t realize the extent of what she had done to him and to Sanders—she knew that she had started it, and also deserved it. Still, a swift though light kick to his balls had been justified. The guys had sucked in another breath at that one.

The last time, when Shanti was starting to get tired and sloppy, she had tripped over Cayan’s big boot and went head first into his chest. Before she could get her hands in gear to punch him in the gut, he had her face tilted and found her lips with his own. Startled, she froze, suffering his tongue to drift along her bottom lip, tasting her, daring her to open her mouth and taste him in return. Instead, she punched him in the balls as hard as she could, sending him back down to one knee.

In the quiet that followed he had smiled hugely and announced that it had been worth it. All the men cheered. Then all the men felt what it was like to have their brains lightly squeezed. It cut short the celebration, but not Cayan’s triumphant smile.

To Cayan, women were a game, and while it was funny, and to some extent also fun, she wasn’t in the mood to play for long. Not when he had denied her Jerrol. It was all a one-sided joke, in which he was in control, and she did not plan to forget it.

At the end Tobias ruled that the Captain had won the sparring and everyone collected their winnings. It was the first time Shanti had gotten nods and pats on the back. She was still the scary foreign woman, but she was less mysterious. Not that it really mattered to her, but she’d play along if it helped them sleep at night.

“Can I speak with you?” Cayan asked when the groups of men broke up.

She shrugged, finding a fire at the edge of the group and sitting down. The guy who had been there, a squeaky-voiced kid who was good with a bow and had just made it past Cadet, made himself scarce in a hurry.

“I know you have mostly healed,” Cayan started, sitting next to her. “I know that you don’t plan to come back with us. But I wondered…can you forestall your trip until after winter?”

She shook her head while he continued. “Winter gets very cold here. It has been known to snow. You don’t have provisions for that. You are newly healed after the last injury, and you were just newly healed before that. Another couple months won’t matter—no one can travel far in the winter. We are not in danger until then. In that time, you can represent your people as we draw others to our side.”

“I am in danger all the time, Cayan. I am forever in danger. If one of your people was to sell me out, or someone caught wind of me, the Graygual would not wait until the snows melt. They would come immediately to claim me.”

“But now my people know your value. And they know that I am like you. They cannot sell you out without also exploiting me.”

“Your army might adhere to that, but your citizens will not. They won’t understand me, or your Gift.”

“A couple months. The word cannot get out before then. We don’t trade in the winter, no one visits—it is like the world halts for the cold. In that time you can train me. You can work with your Honor Guard and the other young members of the army. You would have a home, a warm place to celebrate your holidays, a time to rest and rejuvenate.”

“You wish me to stay for you, then, is that it? To train you and your army? For your benefit?”

Cayan hesitated, his gaze boring into hers. “Yes. For me. For my benefit and your own.”

“What makes you different from the Being Supreme?” Shanti asked quietly.

Cayan’s blank mask melted in anger. “For one, my goal is not to rape and breed you. And two, I have wanted you within my walls from the beginning. My reasons constantly change, I will grant you that, but they have always been in your best interest.”