Free Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles, 1) by K.F. Breene Page A

snatched what she purposely offered, intensity stealing his features as he analyzed information not even remotely true.
    “I see,” he said softly, probing her more readily. Getting greedy.
    She closed up shop, blocking him with a well-constructed shield. “I can’t do much like I am, so I have no choice but to play nice until I’m strong enough to be outside of your control .”
    “I’ ll be keeping an eye on you. You best stay out of trouble. You’ll also be expected to earn your keep. What are you good at?”
    Killing people. “Hunting.”
    “Hunting?” The Captain looked at her quizzically. “I don’t want you outside the city walls. It isn’t safe. What else?”
    Training. Leading a nation. Fighting. “Uh…”
    “Do you bake?”
    Shanti started laughing.
    “Can you wash clothes?”
    “Not if you want them clean.”
    “Needle point?”
    “I don’t know what that is.”
    “It’s making designs in fabric.” The Captain glanced around for a display.
    “With needles?”
    “Yes, needles. And colored thread.”
    “That sounds like a huge waste of time. How about skin animals?” Shanti tried. “Although you might have a different way since my people cannot make leather such as this. I would love to learn, of course.”
    “Making leather like that is a well-kept secret. We will try needlepoint. Keep you out of trouble.” With finality the Captain stood up.
    “To insure my cooperation, I ask t hat you take care of my weapons,” she said softly.
    He didn’t even balk. “Of course.”
    “And that you return my ring. It was my father’s. It’s important to me.”
    The Captain’s eyes lost their accusation. “Are the weapons his as well?”
    “No. Just the ring.” She might be genuine, but she still wasn’t about to reveal her journey.
    After a moment of delimitation, he nodded. “To insure your cooperation.”
    It was then that Rachie came running in, panting. He held up a pair of slippers. They weren’t much more than a couple scraps of fabric. Shiny, pink fabric at that. Were earth colors so out of the norm in his city?
    “Chaylene had a pair that should fit her,” he blurted. “Unless her feet are boats.”
    The Captain nodded and left out the back way, Commander Sanders and the older fellow following him.
    The remaining Commander studied her with a blank, flat stare. “Please dress and follow me.”
    Shanti glanced at the catastrophe of fashion. “Is that mandatory?”
    Silence. Apparently it was.
    She shrugged into the uncomfortable material and had Marc zip the back. She then followed the Commander toward the door. Once there, he stopped and faced her. “Xavier, she is your ward now until she leaves this city. Captain’s orders. Keep tabs on her from here on out. You can take her to Commander Sanders in the small practice yard; he will be putting her up. The rest of you, escort her to the small practice field, where you will then fall in to your training. Dismissed.”
    The Commander strode away , gliding like a swordsman. The rest of the boys stood around on the foot path, gawking. If they’d ever held a sword in their lives, Shanti would’ve been shocked. Xavier stepped up next to her and started walking. She did, too, noticing that Marc was directly behind.
    “So you boys found me, is that right?” Shanti asked pleasantly, noticing all the women bustling by in giant, bright, ridiculous dresses. They looked leisurely and plump, not having a care, or apparently a task, to b urden them. This must be a rich sector of the city.
    “I did,” a drooling boy with staring eyes said.
    “And you are?”
    “Gracas, sir.”
    “She’s a girl!” Rachie muttered.
    “Ma’am,” Gracas amended.
    “I am not a lady and I am not of your city. I have experience with commands and fighting. Sir is fine.”
    “See?” It sounded like Gracas elbowed Rachie.
    “I was there, too, Miss!” Someone yelled from the back.
    It occurred to her that these boys were following her in a loose