Page 57 of War

“Why?” I say again, more insistent.

War’s upper lip is curled, his face grim. He doesn’t respond.

He still holds my upper arms captive, but that doesn’t stop me from pushing him.

“Why?” I repeat. Another push. “Why?” Another. And another. “Why why why?”

I’m asking it like a chant and pushing him over and over. The horseman doesn’t so much as sway. I might as well be pushing a boulder.

Now the tears are coming and I’m angry and sad and I feel so, so helpless.

War pulls me to him, gathering me in his arms. And I just let him. My body sags against his, stupidly soothed by the embrace. I cry against his shoulder and he lets me and somehow that makes this whole ordeal even more awful.

His hand runs over my hair again and again.

At some point he sheaths my sword for me, then picks me up. I don’t bother fighting him. It would be about as useful as my earlier pushes were.

Silently, War settles me onto Deimos, swinging on a moment later.

He holds me close to him as we ride out of that city.

“I feel you slipping through my fingers like grains of sand, Miriam,” War says into my ear. “Tell me what I’ve done wrong.”

“Everything,” I say wearily.

He forces me to look at him.

“Human hearts can be fixed,” he says, likeI’mthe one whose perspective needs altering.

“Can yours?” I ask.

He searches my face. “Will that make you hate me less?”

I don’t know.

“I won’t lose you,” War says, a promise in his voice. “I spared you that day in Jerusalem because you were mine. And I intend to keep it that way, no matter the cost.”

By the timewe return to camp, night has fallen. The smoke from the last fires in Ashdod obscures the stars. It’s better that way. I’d hate for the heavens to see all the horrible things we’ve done to each other.

As soon as War stops his horse, I hop off Deimos.

Once my feet hit the ground, I pause.

I’m ready to walk away and write War off completely, but thereissomething he should know.

Turning back to him, I say, “I found the picture of my family. The one inside my tool bag.”

The horseman stares down at me, emotionless.

“I was absurdly grateful to you, you know,” I continue. “For a moment there, when I held that picture, I wanted to go back to those two nights we were together. I wanted to relive them differently.Better.”

I leave him with that.

I can feel War’s intense gaze on me as I walk away, but here there aren’t any dead for him to stop me with. Or maybe he’s done caging me in. Either way, he lets me go, and I’m left to deal with my grief and horror alone.

Chapter 16

I’m distracted fromthe walk to my tent when I pass by a cluster of women, Tamar and Fatimah amongst them. At the center of the group is the woman I saved earlier, the one who repeatedly shot War.

---