B0161NEC9Y (F) (22 page)

“There is more,” the Battle Commander went on. “Two guards have vanished as well. And those that carried out three of the dead men have not returned.”

Qadir’s hand in the air stopped the babble. “Those are separate situations. The last is as I expected. They left the city, were discovered by the enemy, and killed. Has a head been sent by the enemy?”

“No, sir. We have heard nothing from them. I sent a small team to check out the disappearance. They found a few kill sites, but no bodies. There were hoofprints around the area and the dead men have been carried away. In addition, their men have been scouting the perimeter, but not engaging.”

“They saw their men dead and claimed vengeance.” Qadir waved the issue away. The loss would barely be felt. “What of this other occurrence?”

“Two guards have not been seen since their shift last night. There has been a report of neglect about a third guard as well—he left his post early—but that has happened before. As of my report, they haven’t seen him, so it is probable he is also gone.”

Qadir sat forward. “Are all the prisoners accounted for?”

“Yes, sir. There have been no uprisings that we are aware of.”

New scenarios filtered through Qadir’s mind. He replayed the report from the Captain’s first landing. The men they took, the power used, the retreat…

They could have tried harder to gain entry. Without knowing what awaited them in their city, they
should
have tried harder, needing to know what had become of their people.

And then there was this day of waiting. Endless waiting, it would seem to the Captain, while Qadir held their people under the knife. That would drive a good commander stir crazy. They wandered the walls, yes, but they didn’t engage except for the little incident with their own men. If anything, that incident showed that they wanted to fight, but were being held on a leash.

The question was, whose leash?

“Do you suppose the Captain is the type of warrior to remain under orders while his men are under attack?” Qadir asked his Battle Commander.

“That man has been described as coiled and ready, sir. From what my men have seen, he is excellent with a sword, incredibly strong in power, has a skilled force under him, and seemed intelligent. My men were reasonably assured he would prove extremely difficult to defeat in a fight.”

Qadir’s lips curled in a smile. “The violet-eyed girl has breached the walls. Find her.”

Chapter Twenty

Shanti stood by the door to Eloise’s living room, her mind made up. Rohnan waited beside her, his ire rising. He knew what Shanti had planned, and she would have to go through him to accomplish it.

So be it. She’d assumed that would be the case, anyway.

Alena paced the floor. The Women’s Circle gathered around. Inky night coated the windows, temporarily hiding the pile of Graygual and Inkna bodies stashed in the refuse area. There were too many, though. They’d be missed, if they weren’t already. Shanti had ensured that they’d run out of time. Worse, she knew for certain that there was no way they could beat the Hunter with their limited resources. Without the Shadow, Shanti would get taken, Cayan with her, and the rest would almost certainly be killed.

What was the point in putting off the inevitable if it cost lives to do so? It didn’t make sense. She’d made a mess of this whole situation. It was time to make it right.

“I realize you don’t like it, but I have to turn myself in. It’s the best course of action.” Shanti wiped the hair from her sweaty face. “I am what he wants. Cayan with me. We can go with him now and escape somewhere along the way. The Hunter will treat us like royalty.”

“He’ll treat you like livestock,” Rohnan corrected.

“Royalty among prisoners, then. Same thing.”

“Absolutely not!” Valencia uttered.

“No!” Alena stopped and faced Shanti, her eyes pleading.

“It wouldn’t help, would it?” Tabby asked, wringing her apron.

“Of course it would help.” Shanti kept her voice soft but firm. “He will take me and leave this place, his men with him. I’ll be protected. The Hunter needs me in one piece for Xandre. And he’ll need to travel. I will have plenty of time to escape, and I’ll have a lot of help to do so. By then the Shadow will have shown up—”

“I forbid it!” Fabienne said. “Forbid it!”

The other women voiced their agreement. Shanti half turned to look toward the door. They were speaking with their emotions, not with logic, and Shanti would be lying if she said it didn’t affect her. These people only had her to blame for all of this.
All
of this. From day one, she’d been a bane to this city, protected, sheltered, and all at their peril. For them to object to her making things right touched a place deep inside her.

It didn’t change her duty. She owed this to them, if nothing else. “This is for the best.”

“Don’t be daft.” Eloise took a sip from her teacup. “Besides, one person making decisions that will affect the whole Circle will not be tolerated. One person making decisions that will affect the whole city is a gross misuse of power. You are one of us now. You will follow our rules. And our rules dictate that we discuss this and agree on the best course of action. Now. Who would like to speak?”

“Cayan has the power to rule this city alone…” Shanti quirked a brow.

“We had no say in that.” Eloise sniffed. It was clearly a sore point. “And we’ve been trying to get him a wife to even that out. The city should be run by two, at the very least.”

“With you giving your say to one of them, no doubt,” Shanti muttered.

Eloise sniffed again. That was a yes.

“The Captain asks for support from his men, his officers most of all,” Junice said. She sat on the couch with a wrapped head. Thankfully, though it had bled a lot, her wound had been fairly superficial. “When a large decision will affect them, or the city, he takes counsel. In the past, the city has been ruined by unfit leaders. It doesn’t happen often, and hasn’t for generations on generations, but no ruler of this land can be left unchecked.”

“There. See? Now, as I was saying, who would like to speak?” Eloise looked around.

“She protected me,” Junice said. “If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t be discussing this.”

“Those weren’t the first we killed,” Shanti argued.

“I was the first person she protected,” Ruisa said in a loud, sure voice. “If anything, this is my fault. Maybe I should be the one to turn myself in.”

Shanti crinkled her brow. “How could that possibly help?”

“How could you doing it?” Ruisa shot back.

“S’am, if they took you, we’d be left defenseless again.” Leilius withered as the women’s eyes turned toward him.

“Listen,” Shanti said, moving further into the room, quieting the backlash. “Here are the facts. If I turn myself in, the Hunter will take me, and all the men he needs to secure me, and leave the city. That’s it. He will no longer have need of any of you. He doesn’t care about you or this city. You’ll be safe. If I
don’t
turn myself in, he will kill everyone in his path to get to me. Once he has me, then what do you think he’ll do?”

Shanti eyed everyone with a hard look. It was her battle gaze. No one spoke. She answered the question. “He will leave the city with his men. Do you see? The outcome is the same. It’s the way we reach the conclusion that changes. Death versus no death. My goal is to save lives.
Your
lives.”

Silence descended on the room. The women looked at her, or each other, with wide eyes. A tear dripped down Tabby’s face.

“I call bullshit.”

A few people gasped. Eyes found Gracas, who had stepped forward. Hands balled into a fist, he stared at Shanti with simmering anger. “If not for you, we would already be dead, S’am. That first invasion with the Mugdock would’ve been a shitstorm. You are the reason we pulled out of that.”

Murmurs sounded among the women. Gracas nodded at them. “Yes, exactly. Didn’t tell you that, did she? Then she was the reason we were able to rescue Sanders. Without her he’d be dead, the Inkna would’ve moved in here to get our stuff, and we’d all be dead or slaves or who knows what. And if you get taken, guess what’ll happen? That’s right, the Inkna will finally get to move in again. They want our city, I’m as sure as I’m standing here. The Hunter will take off with our strongest protection, and then those others will take what’s left. Only this time, they’ll kill all of the army because they hate us. So if you leave, S’am, you’ll be
killing
us, not
saving
us. You’re full of shit.”

Leilius cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I know I’ll get punched in the head for saying that, but I don’t care.” Gracas looked around at the women before back at Shanti. “I’d rather get punched in the head and have you stay than say nothing and lose you again.”

Warmth spread through Shanti’s middle. She didn’t know what to say.

“Well then. It’s time for a vote.” Eloise looked around at the women. “Who votes that Shanti should stay and defend the city, even though it will mean fighting and possibly death, raise your hand…”

All the hands shot up. The warmth within Shanti spread to fill her up. Tears glistened in Rohnan’s eyes.

“And who would rather she sacrifices herself at our peril?” Eloise’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, that is what I thought.”

“I think we should also discuss, at a later date, what language we will, and will not, tolerate within these meetings…” Fabienne gave Gracas a poignant stare.

“I think we’ll allow him an exception just this once.” Eloise took another sip of her tea before setting it down on the table. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, we need to discuss how to get our city back. Bring out the map.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The next day, Sanders walked through their tiny camp with an impatient air. The sun was just coming up over the mountains, blazing through the sky in a burst of color. The men sat around the fire, quietly watching the flames dance. A pot sat among the rocks just within the fire pit, only a little water bubbling in the bottom. The rest had boiled away. No one seemed to have noticed.

Without a word, Sanders took the pot out, dropping it to the ground to cool. He continued on to the Captain’s tent, amazed the man was still asleep, let alone had slept at all. As he pushed open the canvas flap, he changed his tune.

The Captain sat cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees with his head in his hands. He glanced up when Sanders came in. “Close the flap behind you.”

Sanders dropped the canvas and walked to the corner, bending. “Sir, reporting for orders.”

The Captain straightened up. His eyes were red and puffy, proof of very little sleep for the last couple days. Haunted, too. In front of him lay Lucius’ body, stretched out and lifeless.

“Something is happening in the city,” the Captain said in a firm voice that didn’t match those sorrow-filled eyes. “Shanti’s emotions are all over the place. She killed a few times yesterday, I’d bet my life on it. I know what those shocks of adrenaline and the flashes of remorse feel like.”

“Flashes of remorse?”

The Captain rubbed his eyes and then reached back, tying his hair at the nape of his neck. “She doesn’t show it, but every time she kills, she has a flash of remorse. She was trained for destruction, but I get the feeling she is more like Rohnan than she lets on.”

“I can’t imagine she’d feel remorse for killing the Graygual, sir.”

“Even the Graygual. She has never had the choice of whether or not to kill. She was pushed to it as a young girl. And then it became her mantle, and perhaps her burden.” The Captain sighed, looking at Lucius again. “That’s neither here nor there. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

“I bet she wouldn’t get a flash of remorse when trying to beat that little tidbit out of my brain, sir. So I’d just as soon we keep that knowledge between ourselves.”

A ghost of a smile graced the Captain’s lips. “Wise.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to stop them coming in,” Sanders said lightly. “They would’ve taken you and Shanti, and fucked off, killing everyone in their wake. Lucius died to protect his people. I would’ve done the same. Still will, in fact. Ready for it.”

“You will not be able to reason this out, Sanders.” The Captain’s voice was low, his body bowed in slightly. The cracks of grief and guilt were starting to show. “Whatever
might
have happened, this is what
did.
And I take it upon myself.”

Sanders hardened his voice. “Well, sir, with all due respect, but we’ve still got people in there depending on us. My
wife
is in there. If Shanti is killing people, that means the time has come. Time to take back our city, sir.”

The Captain stared at Lucius for another long moment, his gaze locked on his lifelong friend’s closed eyes. Finally, he straightened up again. “Yes. I have a plan, but it will take synchronization.”

C
ayan stood, grief pulling him down and filling his stomach with acid. Sleeplessness clouded his mind and sullied his judgment. He needed to get moving. To dull the ache with action.

He reached for Shanti’s emotions, feeling her
Gift
surging along their shared plane of power. His
Gift
danced and played, eager to join it.

Cayan stepped over the lifeless body of his friend.

I will properly grieve for you,
he promised.
I will bury you the right way when this is all done.

“Ready, sir?” Sanders prodded.

Cayan left the tent. The blast of frigid air hit his face, clearing a little of the haze. The trees of his land waited for him, hiding the enemy within their fold. Leaves shook and danced in the breeze.

His men looked up when he walked among them. The younger men stood, staring at him eagerly. The veterans remained where they were, their eyes echoing what Cayan felt.

They’d lost damn fine soldiers already. Three of the best. Sterling and Lucius were extremely hard to kill—excellent with their weapons, great with tactics, and unable to say die. They wouldn’t have gone down without a fight, and should have been smart enough to get themselves out of trouble. Galen, the third officer down, was also a good man. He was a step down from the other two, perhaps, but younger, too. He was working his way toward greatness.