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

horde, Xavier doing nothing to put them in order. Irritated, Shanti stopped. She was already different—if a rag-tag crew followed her around, everyone would notice her every move. That was not acceptable.
    She turned to face the boys. Then waited until they all looked at her.
    “You are all Cadets, is that right?”
    Nods all around .
    “You nod to mothers, fathers, sisters , and aunts. You nod to neighbors and friends. You do not nod to a commanding officer, or so I have noticed. If you are asked a question, you answer with a vocal response. Is that clear?”
    She got a “Yes, ma-sir” ; one “Yes, sir”; one “Yes, com”, which was hopefully slang or the speaker was just plain stupid; and one nod. Marc was the one who nodded. He got punched in the throat. Xavier tried to intercede and got punched in the kidney. Everyone else got one quirked eyebrow. It was a dare. No one rose to the bait.
    It was testimony to how naïve these boys were in the ways of fighting that her poor excuse for strikes dropped them to the ground. It was also testimony to how weak they thought women that these men were sent to guard her.
    “You follow directions or you get people killed,” Shanti continued, noticing the boys gingerly stepping away from Marc moaning and writhing on the ground. “If you are too stupid to follow directions, you will get really, really tough, because I will beat the… I need a slang word for poop.”
    “Kaa-kaa,” one of the boys volunteered.
    He got elbowed. “What are we, five?” The boy turned to Shanti. “Shit.”
    “Thank you, Rachie. I will beat the shit out of you. Now, Marc, are you recovered?”
    She got a nod as he climbed, painfully, to his feet.
    “Marc is about to demonstrate how to get tough really quick.” She spun, sweeping the legs out from under him. He fell directly on his butt bone in the middle of the foot path. It looked like it hurt. Her stagger wasn’t much better. “Please note that Xavier is smart. He didn’t try to help that time. Silently give Xavier praise.”
    “Good on ya!” Rachie congratulated, stepping forward to pat Xavier on the back.
    Shanti stepped forward to meet Rachie and punched him in the solar plexus. She didn’t have much sauce behind the punch, not having much more stamina in her body, but Rachie fell like a lead weight in a barrel of water. It was hilarious, and to celebrate, Shanti held her stomach and started laughing.
    “You boys are a bunch of funny men.” Shanti started walking.
    Thanks to the Captain, and her state, she had nothing to do but get better. She was bored already. She might just have to make a project of these boys—turn them into something worth talking to before she moved on.
    “Clowns. Ah, sir,” Xavier commented, catching up immediately.
    “Clowns, fine. Can anyone tell me why Rachie just got punched?”
    “He was supposed to be silent.”
    “Good, Cadet. What is your name?”
    “Leilius? Sire.”
    “Are you unsure of your own name, Cadet? And I am not a king.”
    Leilius flinched, realized he wasn’t going to get hurt right then, then said, “Leilius. Sir.”
    “Good. Come along you lot. And stay in pairs. You look like shit after someone ate beans. I will need more swear words, too; I love the startled faces when I use them.”
    Thankfully the walk to meet Commander Sanders was short, allowing Shanti to appear confident and unaffected the whole way. As they neared the large square of lush, freshly trimmed grass, Commander Sanders cut off his hand-to-hand combat training and approached them like a man would a raging bonfire if he was covered in flammable liquid.
    “Boys, get geared up,” Sanders barked in greeting.
    Shanti heard a “Yes, sir”, one “Yes, Chief” , and a “M’Kay.” She was able to kick one of the silent boys in the leg, taking him down, but had to settle for a rock for the other. She got him right in the back of the head. She’d always been an excellent shot.
    Sanders had her by the