Page 46 of War

My God, I’veneverso badly wanted someone I disliked. But then again, here’s another side of War I’m only beginning to see—the reckless, passionate warlord.

War breathes heavily, that overwhelming body of his heaving with the action. I thought he might flash me one of his mocking smiles; he knows exactly what he did to me. Instead, he steps towards me, his expression determined, clearly ready to resume that kiss.

I take a halting step back. “I can’t.”

The correct response should’ve beenno, but the truth is, I want to kiss the horseman back. It’s embarrassing howmuchI want that.

His gaze is fixed back on my lips.

“Why,” he says. It’s hardly a question.

I take a deep breath, beating back my lust. One day my vagina might stage a coup and overpower my brain—but that day won’t be today.

My eyes meet War’s. “Because tomorrow you’re still going to ride out with your army, and it’s going to break my heart.”

Chapter 12

We assemble beforedawn.

It’s a quiet, somber thing. I’d like to think that the soldiers around me are just as pained at the thought of killing innocents as I am, but I don’t know.

I’m one of several hundred who’s given a horse. The rest of the army is heading in on foot—well except for the few men and women who are manning the giant carts they’ll bring into the city, carts that will eventually return to camp stacked with stolen goods.

The soldiers have me wait off to the side of the army procession, just like last time I left camp. And like last time, I hear the pounding hoof beats of War’s horse cut through the early morning air. War rides out of the darkness, the torchlight making him look particularly menacing.

I stare at his blood red horse. Deimos, he called the creature.

War stops when he gets to me.

“Stay safe,” he says, his voice as serious as I’ve ever heard it.

“Try not to kill too many people,” I respond.

A smile curves his lips. “There’s no such thing as too many.”

Ugh.

“Farewell, wife. We’ll meet again on the battlefield.”

With that, War rides to the head of the procession. The soldiers who can see him lift their weapons and torches and whoop.

Idiots.

Slowly, the entire army begins to move. I slip into line along with the rest of them, my nerves ratcheting up. The lot of us are heading into Ashdod, a city nestled along the coast of New Palestine. Home to many, many people.

The ride in is unnaturally quiet. No one speaks with each other, so the only sound is the fall of hoof beats and footsteps. Dozens of soldiers carry torches, and the firelight illuminates their somber faces.

On one side of my waist is War’s sheathed dagger and on the other is a sword I lifted earlier. It’s a bit too heavy and the edge is fairly dull, but I’m going to need to use it anyway if I’m going to throw myself into the fray.

I feel my resolve hardening into place.

Rule One has always been: bend the rules—but don’t break them. But if the rules are wrong, then they need to be broken. They need to be smashed to fucking pieces.

And today I’m going to do just that.

War’s army takesout the aviaries first.

As soon as I enter the town, I can hear the birds’ shrill cries. Fire already engulfs several buildings, and in one of them, there are birds trapped inside. All around me people are fighting and screaming and fleeing and dying, but it’s the sound of those birds’ cries that truly chills me.

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