by K. F. Breene
She laughed sardonically. “Homesick, yes. Every moment of my life, waking or otherwise. Do I need money? No, thank you. There’s nothing to go back to.”
“So you’re running, then?”
“For now, yes. For good, no.”
The rainbow looked like it was caught in a whirlpool. “Are you giving me vague answers on purpose?”
“Are you purposely asking questions in my time of vulnerability for a better chance of getting answers?”
“I don’t like to see a woman alone without resources, or vulnerable, if I can help her.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
The Captain paused. Then snorted and looked out at the trees.
“Exactly,” Shanti whispered.
“You’ve picked up our language quickly,” he began again. He bent his knee and looped a large arm over it.
“I already knew it, as you remember.”
“Your accent is much improved, your word choices are intelligent, and your swear words are…colorful.”
It was Shanti’s turn to snort. “Set young boys to match my steps and I get the choicest cuts of colorful language.”
“Sanders said he hasn’t seen you since you went to stay with him.”
Shanti picked up a blade of grass. The filtered sun highlighted it in splotches as she twirled it in her fingers. “You’re trying to punish him for some reason, while getting someone capable to keep an eye on me. He’s trying to live his life. I’m allowing him to do that. He needs to feel free to talk to his mate. He needs license to have loud, obnoxious sex. Why he doesn’t is beyond me, but it is not my fault.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for an invitation for two women at once…”
Shanti smiled, grateful that the Captain was trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe, but I’d rather not get drugged, then murdered in my sleep by Junice.”
The Captain laughed. It was a deep, peaceful sound, light and pleasant. It tickled her stomach pleasantly, reminding her of pleasures lost. Then he sobered, the dimples stored away, too serious too soon. This man didn’t live much. He worked, he bore the responsibility of a large city with a lot of trade and goods, and he let himself be ruled by his job as he ruled those under him. Shanti pitied him slightly. It wasn’t a great way to live a life.
The Captain backed his rump up and settled against the tree at Shanti’s back. “I hear you’re abusing my Cadets.”
“Teaching, not abusing.”
“Kicking them for not vocalizing an affirmation is abusive.”
Shanti snorted. She’d done worse than that on occasion. “And if you truly believed that, you would not hold your position for long. I was treated much worse when I was learning. I had harsher rules. And look, I’m fine. It made me a more disciplined fighter.”
“Boys step out of line as a matter of principle. They’re wilder than girls. They break the rules to test boundaries. I don’t punish as much as you might think.”
Shanti threw down the grass. “Boys might be wilder most times, but there are always exceptions. You’re speaking to one.”
“I see,” he said with an amused tone.
“Marc is bright but painfully shy. Painfully shy. Getting kicked in the head helps him realize that merely getting looked at isn’t so scary.”
“Xavier is budding. He is starting to lead.”
“That wasn’t my doing.”
“It was, in a round-about sort of way. He’s responding, growing into a fighter with your methods. Rachie, Gracas, even Leilius, they are responding.”
Shanti shrugged. “They just needed structure and a little attention.”
“Sanders nearly choked on your cookies.”
Shanti couldn’t help but laugh. “Now I understand the swirling mind colors. You have so much going on in your thoughts at any one time, one wonders what will pop out of your mouth.” She got a look of charmed confusion. She might as well have been speaking in her own language. “Um…cookies, oh yes. I warned you, as you recall. Fighting, hunting, shooting—they are all I know.”
“I see. And have you made any progress with your needlepoint?”
Shanti stood, sensing more male minds coming her way. The Captain followed her lead. If he was surprised she knew they were coming, he didn’t show it.
“You’ve been in here for some time, “he said, sobering once more. “We thought you might try to make a run for it. Your honor guard is finally showing up.”
Shanti turned to him and looked up. The man was massive, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. It was an unpleasant reminder to the challenge he would present to her fitness level. “How did you find me? If they’re just now showing up...”
He winked. “That’s why I get called Lord. I’m the best.”
She sniffed. “How do you carry that ego around? Does it not get tedious?”
The Captain smiled, his dimples making deep divots in his cheeks. With a glance in the direction of the oncoming kids, he nodded once and walked away, the opposite direction as the clambering honor guard.
She shook her head, then donned a wicked smile.
Now to scare the honor guard.
Chapter 9
The end of the next couple weeks saw Shanti back to nearly full health and desperately working on full strength. She went through her fighting styles, one at a time, until she was shaking and sweaty. Then she did the same with her mental conditioning, nearly blacking out twice. She had been taking to the trees, always practicing there at night, giving Sanders and Mrs. Sanders some time to play tootsie.
Shanti’s honor guard was now an Honor Guard. It was a real title. And it was real irritating. The Captain in all his misplaced wisdom decided he was tired of punishing the boys for obeying her and not their immediate officers, so he assigned them to her for safe keeping. He also wanted to punish her with a bunch of ridiculous little kids following her around, constantly getting in the way and tripping each other up. Plus, he said, she needed protection.
Shanti had asked Sanders for clarification, making sure “protection” didn’t actually mean surveillance. She was told that technically, no, but in this case, probably.
Being that she didn’t have a real job, and only needed half the day to work on her strength and endurance, especially with no weapons, she decided she might as well make a game of it. She started leading a merry chase around the city, much to the Honor Guard’s chagrin, only to pop out from behind a corner when they least expected it. They never thought it was as funny as she did.
This was all exasperating for the beloved Captain, of course. He had informed her, through the proper channels, that she was to stay in Sanders’ house unless chaperoned. She was to behave like a lady. She was to keep quiet and stop bothering him with her blatant disregard of authority.
Being that excrement flowed downhill, the chain of command was nothing more than a poop-chute; the lowest member having to walk around with shit on his face. She relayed this fact to anyone with the Captain’s agenda on his or her lips.
The next message tumbling down the chain of command was simply, “Be nice.”
It was one blissful afternoon where not being nice was the name of the game. Having thrown off her persistent Honor Guard for the moment, Shanti walked into the training grounds, the location of which she was absolutely not supposed to know. It was a large open area nestled in the middle of a copse of trees at the extreme southern end of the city. The outside wall was easily visible, with no cover or branches close enough that a person could climb up and hop over. She never bothered to point out that the wall was made of rough stone with large masonry cracks; climbing wasn’t difficult.
She’d already proven that assessment. And gotten her Honor Guard in trouble for not having the man-rocks to climb up after her and pull her back down.
Shanti spotted Sanders immediately. He stood in the middle of a group of men around Shanti’s age, showing some sort of knife throw. It was a move only large, strong men could do with other large, strong men, becaus
e it was clunky and easy to slip out of if you were in any way nimble.
The far corner had a wall set up with targets. Men of all ages loitered around, throwing knives like they might throw a ball. While most had great aim, they applied terrible technique. Such an easy thing to master, and yet it was an anomaly on these training grounds. Ridiculous.
“Can I help you?”
Shanti turned to a man in his early thirties with a dirty, sweat-stained shirt and loose pants. His honeyed skin provided a natural block against the intense heat. His face was broad but features delicate, barely on the masculine side of pretty. His eyes, though…
Shanti felt a pang of longing as she gazed into those eyes. Warm brown, like the earth, almost exactly the same color and shape as Romie’s had been.
Shanti smiled, her stomach fluttering. Remembering. “Oh no, you and yours are providing plenty of distraction, thank you.”
“I don’t believe you’re supposed to be here.” His beautiful eyes started to twinkle. She wanted to fall in immediately and never come out.
“Actually, Commander Sanders gave me these knives.“ Shanti produced the stolen blades from the belt of her stolen pants. “He said I should try to throw them.”
The man laughed, a pleasing sound that tickled her below her stolen belt line. “I doubt that.”
“Are you calling your commanding officer a liar?” Her voice took on a sharp edge. If he didn’t go for that, she had a strictly feminine purr at the ready. She had about fifteen more minutes before her Honor Guard found her, and less than that before Sanders did. She wanted to throw her knives and make all the boys squeal.
But then, she also had a half a mind to make this boy squeal. Decisions.
His eyes rounded and he shook his head. “No, ma’am. Let me take you to Commander Sanders.”
“I see him. Why don’t you take me to the Pit instead? He said he’d meet me there…”
Knowing what they called the area to throw knives obviously gave her credibility. As they headed over, thankfully not in clear view of Sanders, Shanti said, “So what is your name?”
“Jerrol, ma’am. And you are the foreign woman.”
“Shanti, yes. Tell me, Jerrol, does your city have a ban on pre-mating intercourse?”
“Mating?”
“Um…you know…” Shanti searched for the word, “what you call wife and husband?”
“Married, you mean. Uh…” With an embarrassed smile he looked around, trying to make sure no one overheard their conversation. Talking about sex was apparently restricted. Pity.
“Lovers are taboo in this culture, then, is that correct?” she pushed.
“Lovers?”
She wasn’t making him squeal so much as squeak.
It was just her luck that she landed, half dead, into a prudish culture where women wore entire rolls of fabric on their person, each gender was afraid of seeing the other naked, sex was quiet of all things, and only the men protected their people. She couldn’t have been more out of place if she’d dreamed up a joke for herself.
“Forget I said anything. Until the ban ceases, of course.”
They arrived at the Pit, Jerrol now walking slightly closer than he had before their conversation. Shanti watched the proceedings for a scant two seconds before a lifetime of duty and leadership had her marching over to a man her senior by probably ten years. His form was decent, but it only needed a slight tweak to be much more effective.
“What is your rank, solider?” she asked gruffly, emulating Sanders. It made her feel stupid, not speaking to him like a human being, but it was the way they did things here. These men liked to keep things in routine. Much like toddlers.
The man hesitated. He knew he was talking to a woman, knew he should escort her out of harm’s way, but probably figured he’d get a thump for it. He was right on two counts.
“Staff Officer...” he responded.
“Name?”
“Derek.”
“Staff Officer Derek, you are holding that knife all kinds of wrong. Here let me…”
“WHAT IS SHE DOING IN THE PIT?”
Alas, Sanders was more observant than she had given him credit for.
The man in front of her tried not to shrivel out of the way. He was the only one.
Shanti turned to face the oncoming rage of the most vicious man in their military—if the rumors were to be believed. She was rather curious what he would do. Then bored, because instead of kicking her in the head, he immediately reached for her arm to drag her away. She evaded easily.
“Temper, temper,” she taunted with a playful smirk. “Everyone will think you don’t have a sense of humor.”
“What are you doing in my clothes?” Sanders barked. “And where is your protection? And-why are-you-in-the-middle-of-fifty-dangerous-men-who-are-half-mad-with-adrenaline? Do you have a death wish? Or do you want me killed, because if the Captain found out you were here I would be cleaning the latrines!“
“Shoot. My Honor Guard arrives.” Xavier was running at her in a full sprint. “I’ll leave you to it. But first…”
She grabbed Derek’s knife by the blade, spun, and threw with barely a glance at the target. It was easy and effortless and her aim was true. There was a resounded thunk as the knife hit the middle of the bull’s-eye.
Thank the grace of the Elders! Muscle memory was a wonderful thing. She would have made a real ass of herself if she’d missed.
She walked away to an entire training ground of dead silence. That was, until Rachie showed up.
“Oh thank fuck, we found her! I thought for sure she was hiding in the men’s bathroom again!”
As she let them lead her away, Sanders frothing in her wake, she said, “Fuck? It seems you’ve been tight-lipped about a very important swear word. Explain.”
Chapter 10
Sanders walked into the Captain’s office with a brisk pace and lead in his chest. The Captain sat behind his desk, completely composed, but a man just never knew where they stood when called out of the blue. His punishment was nearly up, so that was probably it, but he hadn’t kept a very close eye on his charge, so he could be getting reamed out for that.
Or possibly his men were the problem. They wouldn’t stop trying to intercept the foreigner and engage her in some way. Half of them already proposed. They loved hearing the ways they were rebuked. A bunch of young, horny fools was what they were.
Then there were her band of boys. They’d do whatever she said over whatever anyone else said, no matter if Sanders slapped them around or not. It was her way or silence. He didn’t know how she did it, but it was making a right mess of things in the practice yard.
Especially since they were starting to use a strange fighting style. And winning.
“Captain, you wanted to see me?” Sanders asked, coming to stand in front of the desk.
Eerie blue eyes looked up from crisp white papers. The Captain’s shoulder length hair was back, tied at the nape of his neck. It meant he had battle in mind, which had Sanders immediately on point.
“Mugdock are gathering en masse,” the Captain started, sticking Sanders with those eyes and drilling him into the floor. “Something is brewing, but right now they have no clear target in mind. At least, they don’t seem to. They’re huddled outside of our lands, but not heading to our farming areas or mining operations. I’m debating sending a large party to break them up.”
Break them up was code for kill them all. Only way to do it with the Mugdock. “Is it just that one group?”
“So far, yes. It is probably half of their battalion. I have scouts looking for the other half.”
“Do you think they intend to raid?”
The Captain leaned back and closed his eyes. “I don’t know. It is fierce bad timing. I have a delegation coming through day after tomorrow to meet me and the council. They want to open trade lines between here and farther east. In addition, I planned on asking them about our foreigner. I don’t want to advertise our problems with the Mugdock.�
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“Think they’ll know of one stray female traveler?”
Sanders wasn’t trying to be funny, or even grouchy, so he had no idea why the captain, eyes still closed, had a smile creeping up his face. Possibly laughing at a joke he’d told silently to himself. Possibly the young bugger was going mad. And if he was going mad, Sanders wasn’t planning on telling anybody because then it would be his problem. To that end, he stood right where he was, not daring to utter a single sound.
The Captain finally said, “She’s eclectic. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.”
Eclectic wouldn’t have been Sanders’ word of choice. More along the lines of royal pain in the ass. “Should I send a party to disband the Mugdock?”
The Captain went reflective, then shook his head. “No, not yet. That’ll cause a grotesque scene. Get men ready, though. If anything happens, I want our reaction swift and complete.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I hear the girl made her way to the Pit?”
Sanders’s balls tightened up. He knew that tone. “She escaped her Honor Guard, sir.”
The Captain’s eyes, made of steel, honed in on Sanders. The air pressurized, causing fear to creep through Sanders’ now hollow veins.
The rough voice was quiet as it said, “You will take her in hand, Commander. Put an experienced man on her. If she so much as sneezes, I want to know about it. There is more to that woman than mere traveling. Ordinary people don’t have swords like that. She’s hiding something, and I will not let my people come to harm due to ignorance.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How is it going with you and Junice?”
“Wh—fine, sir. Thank you for your concern.”
“The foreign girl isn’t coming between you? There isn’t jealousy there?”
Sanders’ eyes widened momentarily. “No, sir. Not that I am aware. The gir—Shanti leaves every evening to the park—followed by members of her Guard. She comes back just after our bedtime. I rarely see her.”
