Page 90 of Warrior's Captive
“Mine,” he whispered again.
31
“We’re goingto focus on something different today,” Banujani said. “I want to see how deep your bond goes.”
Vivian rose from her stretch, giving Banujani a thoughtful look. “What do you mean?”
The guard eyed her intently. “It occurred to me we aren’t using your best weapon.”
She reached out, taking Vivian’s wrist in a firm grip and pulled her arm out. Vivian didn’t resist as Banujani pushed up her thin sleeve, revealing the bonding marks.
“You scored a hit on me. That’s not easy to do. We know the marks can transfer experiences between partners. It’s not common, but it’s not rare.”
It was easy enough to follow the train of thinking. “You want me to see how much is there and if I can access it at will.”
Banujani’s lips curved in a pleased smile. “It’s a shortcut, but there’s no reason not to utilize every tool we have while you’re learning. Doing things the long way is for fools. We just want to keep you alive.”
“I have no argument with your logic.”
Banujani released her. “So, we’re going to meditate.” She moved to the center of the room and lowered herself gracefully to the ground, giving Vivian an expectant look.
“Come on, we don’t have all week.”
Vivian settled onto the mat facing Banujani. “Are we doing the find your Silence sequence?” They’d started out training with a day of learning mediation, and breathing, and controlling fear and adrenaline during a fight.
“Yes, but this time instead of Silence, we need to find your memories.”
Banujani’s soothing voice droned in a low hum in the back of Vivian’s mind. She sent her mind into her own past, drawing up memories of her youth and stepping into the sounds, scents, the bright light of a midday sun while on a learning excursion. The umami aroma of her father’s curry jambalaya and her mother’s intent expression as she turned the pages of a real book.
But these weren’t the memories she needed. She recalled the cool wetness of clay in her hands as she spun the wheel, her fingers shaping the lump in front of her into a bowl.
Her fingers flexed, the movements second nature. She relaxed into the knowledge, remembered her fingers. Then asked them what else they remembered. The shape of clay, the precise strokes of a paintbrush.
The familiar strain of muscles as she fended off an opponent. A skilled opponent several decades of experience ahead of her.
An enemy intent on taking her life.
Her hands flexed, her arms and thighs bunching with decades of muscle memory as she opened her eyes. She saw Banujani as they rose, and she didn’t see her.
“Wear the memory, don’t let it wear you,” she heard the woman say. “If you can’t stay in the present, you’ll get yourself killed. Now defend yourself.”
Banujani attacked.
Vivian snapped into action, meeting the strikes as if the knowledge to do so was embedded in her DNA. There was no hesitance . . . until a part of her mind panicked, realizing this wasn’t normal.
She tumbled out of the trance and wound up on her ass for her efforts.
“Sloppy,” Banujani said, but there was a thread of approval in her voice. “But not bad. Get up. We do this again. Until you can use the knowledge to save your life and someone else’s.”
* * *
Vivian collapsed another container and stood, twisting to relieve some of the ache in her back.
“Yeah, that’s about how I feel,” Shira said from the corner where she was nursing her son. “All this tech, and they can’t fix weak back muscles. Exercise they say, meditate and use a good pillow, they say. Whatever. I’ve done all that.”
Vivian laughed. Mayleen’s weight on her chest was a gentle warmth. If it wasn’t for her training regimen, her back would have been a mess.
Ten weeks after Mayleen’s birth and her head was whirling from the breakneck speed at which things got done in Beysikai province. She had expected the paperwork approving her business permits to take months. She was no one special, after all.
