Page 135 of War

Behind me I hear the phobos rider’s persistent footfalls.

Fuck.

Run, run, run!

I flee down the hall, where the fire is worst. I don’t know what I’m doing. By the time I realize that I might be able to jump out of a window, I’ve passed the rooms still intact enough to do so.

I don’t hear the metallic hiss of Uzair’s sword when he unsheathes it behind me, but I feel the tip of it catch the back of my neck when he swings, the blade slicing open my skin and loping off a chunk of my hair.

I trip, sprawling out across the ground, the arrows in my quiver scattering. The floor is hot to the touch.

He tried to behead me!

I can feel my blood dripping down the back of my neck, the heat evaporating most of it. The rooms to my left, my right, and ahead of me are all engulfed in flame.

Trapped.

I flip onto my back as Uzair looms over me, swallowing down my rising fear. I still have my dagger gripped tightly in my hand, but it’s next to useless at this point.

This is my end.

Wife. I can almost hear the horseman’s voice in my head.Don’t die on me now.

“War won’t forgive you for this,” I say. This might be the first time I’ve openly acknowledged what I think I mean to the horseman.

“He’s not going to know it was me,” Uzair replies.

I suppose he won’t. War might not find my body at all. The thought sends my pulse thundering. I’m not sure why it bothers me, only that it does.

I take a deep breath and stare up at the phobos rider, my forearms braced against the scorching ground.

Uzair pulls his sword back, the blade already caked with blood.

He swings downward, aiming for my neck, his attack controlled. I watch that blade fall, and I almost let him get me.

I’m not ready.

There are things I haven’t said to War, things I haven’t done and things I still haven’t even admitted to myself.

I roll away, barely missing the blow.

The phobos rider swings again at me, and this time, the edge of his blade opens my arm and trails across my chest. And Goddamn, it hurts like a bitch.

I bring my boot up and kick Uzair’s wrist. The impact jars his weapon from his hand, and the sword clatters to the ground.

He reaches for it, bending down within striking range. And that’s when I lunge.

I plunge my dagger into the rider’s neck, grimacing when his blood spurts out like a fountain.

He stares at me, furious, like that wasn’t supposed to happen. I was just a helpless, defeated woman.

Uzair tumbles forward, next to me. By the time his body hits the ground, he’s all but dead. I pull my dagger from his throat and stagger to my feet.

Need to move.The walls are on fire and the ground is becoming unbearably hot, even through the soles of my boots.

Now that the fight is over, however, I move slowly, my muscles leaden. I heave in several deep breaths, but I can’t seem to pull in enough air. Instead, smoke burns my lungs.

I’ve only taken a few steps forward when, ahead of me, part of the ceiling caves in, barricading me in and turning my only exit into a thick wall of fire.