Page 207 of War

Quite steady.

I have no fear left in me, and my anger has all burned off, leaving nothing but grim purpose behind.

I count the riders. One, two, three—four. Four, when there used to be close to twenty. Which means that aside from this group and the man I shot earlier, there are still fifteen soldiers unaccounted for.

I’ll worry about that later.

I aim the arrow at one of the riders, take a breath, then release.

It hits the man in the shoulder. His body recoils from the impact, but he manages to stay on the horse, pulling savagely on the reins.

I’m already nocking my second arrow by the time his comrades notice.

Breathe, then release.

The next arrow hits another rider right in the chest. He slumps in his saddle, his horse veering off from the road.

The two remaining riders turn on their steeds, looking for the source of the arrows.

Nock and release. I hit one of them. Three wounded.

All that’s left is—

My eyes meet Hussain just as he looks towards me.

“Miriam,” he snarls.

I hesitate for a split second. Hussain has always been kind to me. I don’t want to believe he could have helped kill War—or that he might’ve been riding back to camp to deal with me.

The second passes and with it, my shock. I grab another arrow and aim. Release.

Hussain ducks, the arrow whizzing past where his head would be. He kicks his horse into action, galloping straight for the building.

Of course he would be a part of this conspiracy; it seems as though all the riders were in on it.

Still, my heart breaks a little at the sight of him.

Rather than continue to shoot at him, I train my next arrow on one of the wounded riders who has now righted himself on his horse and is circling back. Aiming for his torso, I release the projectile. It hits him just above the breastbone, and I hear his grunt.

That’s all I have time for.

Hussain is right on the other side of the doorway. I hear him dismount his horse, his weapons clinking against him.

I nock another arrow, aiming it at the entryway.

There’s a stretch of silence—

With a fierce kick, the door blasts inwards. Standing beyond it is the one rider who was ever kind to me. Sword in hand, he steps inside.

I release my arrow.

It hits Hussain in the side. It can’t be more than a flesh wound, but it’s enough for him to pause.

He glances down at it, then back up at me. “I never thought you’d try to kill me,” he says.

In seconds I withdraw another arrow from my quiver and settle it against the bow. “I could say the same.”

Aim, release.

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