Page 60 of War

Zara gives me a small smile, but it quickly falls away when cheering rises from the festivities.

“Why are they happy?” she asks, listening to the sounds.

“The fuck if I know.” I take another sip from my cup.

I can feel her staring at me, weighing my words.

“What?” I finally say.

“If you hate them so much why were you fighting with them?”

I glance at her, lowering my drink. “Why did you choose allegiance over death?” I ask.

She doesn’t say anything to that. There isn’t anythingtosay. It’s all so very complicated.

I slosh around the liquid in my cup. “Ihavebeen fighting,” I admit, “but I’ve been targeting the horseman’s army, not the civilians.”

Zara gives me a sharp look. “You can do that?” She looks intrigued.

“Not with impunity, no.” Eventually someone will catch me and I’ll have to face the consequences of killing War’s army. They don’t really like traitors here.

“But you haven’t gotten punished for it?” Zara presses.

I hesitate. “Notyet.” There it is again, that word—yet. Because it’s inevitable that something bad will happen to all of us.

The two of us are silent for a bit, but eventually, I have to ask—

“Where in God’s name did you find the courage to fire agun?”

I can’t tell if Zara’s smiling or frowning at the reminder. “I didn’t have a lot left to lose, and I wassomad. So, so mad. I’m still mad. I just grabbed my family’s gun and hunted that asshole down.

Family.

Oh God. I feel my horror spread through me. Of course she had family. And now I’m left to wonder what she saw before she picked up that firearm and decided thatfuck it, I’ll take my chances.

“Howdidyou stop the horseman from killing me?” Zara asks then.

It’s such a reasonable question, but there is so much to that question that I don’t want to answer.

“I asked him to spare you,” I say, glad that the darkness shadows my face.

There’s a pause. Then Zara says, “That’s not really what I’m asking.”

I know. What she wants to know is why would War listen to me at all.

I bring my drink to my lips and swallow almost all of it, wincing at the taste.

Just tell her.

“He thinks I’m his wife.”

More silence.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Zara eventually says.

“I think it might eventually mean”—my mouth dries—“sex, but for now, it’s an empty title.”

I think of the times the horseman and I have kissed, and I am so conflicted. So, so conflicted.

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