Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
GRAYSON
Istood at attention in front of General Carron’s massive desk.
The paneled walls of his office were covered with weapons and paintings of glorious battles, and a large window offered a view of the outdoor training grounds.
This was only the third time I’d been called to the general’s office.
The first time was nearly fifteen years ago when I’d joined the guard.
The second time was more recent, when the general had informed me I’d been promoted.
That day he’d smiled and offered me a chair.
Today he glared and kept me standing.
General Carron was tall, with salt-and-pepper hair, a strong jaw, and a barrel chest. He wore his uniform with pride.
I’d never seen so much as a wrinkle, and the medals that decorated his chest looked like they were polished each night.
He steepled his fingers and shook his head.
“This is why we take shields when they’re young.
The young ones are pliant, easier to train. ”
“She’s powerful, sir.”
“So you say.”
If I told the general that the shield had rebounded Smit’s power and killed him, she’d be in some mage’s laboratory before sunset.
Her power was too valuable to waste on Carron’s curiosity.
Because, when his curiosity was satisfied, they’d kill her.
Letting Carron have Haven would constitute a waste of power. Power I could use. I held my tongue.
“We need shields to do what we say, when we say.” He rapped his knuckles on his desk for emphasis. “A shield who challenges a guard gives other shields dangerous ideas.”
She hadn’t challenged a guard; she’d protected herself. Admirably. I kept that thought to myself. “I understand, sir.”
“Do you? Bring her to heel, or I’ll put her down.”
I ignored the sudden twist in my stomach. “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“I think twenty lashes will suffice as punishment.”
I barely hid my shock. The punishment was excessive. “Twenty lashes will delay her training.”
“Hmm. Twenty lashes, then four days in the pit.”
My stomach twisted, and claws raked against my conscience. My hands found their familiar position behind my back, fingers interlocked to keep from forming fists. Twenty lashes would break most women. Four days in the pit would kill them. “She might die, sir.”
Carron lifted a single brow. A shield dying was hardly cause for concern.
“Letting her die would be a waste. She’ll be an asset at the front.”
He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “If she’s as powerful as you say, she might survive. But mark my words, any more trouble, and I will end her.”
I gave him the response he expected—a crisp nod, a sharp, “Yes, sir.” But as I left his office, one thought echoed in my mind: Haven Ford was becoming far more trouble than any shield was worth. The problem was, I was starting to think she might be worth it.