Page 194 of War

But that’s changing—Waris changing, and the world is changing with him.

Chapter 52

With every citywe pass through, more and more people are spared. First it’s the children, then it’s the innocents, then it becomes the elderly. Eventually, it’s not clearwhatdistinguishes the people War saves from those he doesn’t. There’s so many spared civilians that eventually the horseman stops bringing them back to camp. If they’ve survived his raid, they get to keep not just their lives, but their homes and possessions too.

Today War and I wander through camp, the horseman’s eyes drifting to the people who live here. Camp itself is an altogether different beast than it was only months ago. There’s much more laughter and far fewer weapons.

I don’t know whether War’s aware of the metamorphosis this place has gone through, or that he’s the one responsible for this change, but I know that I feel a lightness inside me every time I see how things have improved.

When War and I hit the outskirts of camp, he turns to me.

“I have something for you,” he admits.

I stop walking, raising my eyebrows. The horseman has given me a lot of things since we first met—a tent, clothing, food, weapons, heartache, carnage, some zombies, and a baby. I’m not entirely sure I want anything more from him.

The horseman pulls out a ring, and I furrow my brows, not understanding.

It’s not until War kneels—on both knees—that I realize what this is.

“Will you be my wife?” War asks.

I stare at him dumbfounded, my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest. “I already promised you I would.”

“But now I amaskingyou,” the horseman says, staring up at me from where he kneels. “No more deals between us, Miriam. I want this to truly be your choice.” He searches my eyes. “Will you be mine?”

I could say no.

For the first time, War is actually giving me an out in this relationship. Of course, it’s too late for me and my heart. And now he had to go and make himself a better man, a man worthy of sayingyesto.

“Yes, War. Yes, I’ll be your wife.”

He smiles so brightly it crinkles the corners of his eyes, his teeth blindingly white against his olive skin.

The horseman gets up and, grabbing me around the waist, spins me in his arms. Laughing a little, I press a hand to his cheek and lean in to kiss his lips.

Once we stop spinning, War takes my hand and begins to slide the ring onto my finger.

“Where did you learn about proposals?” I ask, remembering how he knelt on both knees. It wasn’t quite what human men do, but it was close enough to know he picked it up from someone somewhere.

“I’m not completely ignorant of human ways, wife. Just mostly.” He gives me a sly smile.

His response has me grinning back. I can’t bear to look away from him. He’s enraptured me. But then my curiosity has me glancing down at my ring.

It’s gold, with a round ruby at its center. It’s the color of War’s armor and his glyphs and his steed—well, and blood too, but I’m ignoring that one.

The ring is too loose for my ring finger, so the horseman slips it on my middle finger, but then the ring is also too loose forthatfinger, so War moves it to my pointer finger, where it rests comfortably.

This isn’t quite human custom either, and I love it all the more for that fact. The two of us, after all, are not quite a normal couple—but we’re close enough.

“I love it,” I say.

War squeezes my hand. “I like my ring on your finger. My dagger looked good on you too, but this … this might be even better.”

“Tell me aboutGod,” I say that night after I slip beneath our sheets. War’s ring is a comforting weight on my finger.

“Not ‘your God’?” War asks from where he sits sharpening a blade, his eyes heavy on me.

Ithadalways been his God. Not mine.

---