Page 42 of War

I twist a little with the effort. This ogre.

“Wife.”

I take a steadying breath, staring at his chest. This is really what I didn’t want.

Slowly, my eyes move up to War’s. He’s so close I can see those flecks of gold in them. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips and a deep look of satisfaction.

“This is your fault,” I say.

He raises his eyebrows. “Is it?”

The horseman doesn’t bother pointing out that we’re on his flimsy excuse of a bed. He also doesn’t bother removing his arm from where it’s draped over me. Instead, his hand slides from my back to my ribcage, settling into the dip of my waist. I can tell he’s mapping out the contours of my body. He must like what he’s discovering because he looks annoyingly pleased.

His eyes are like honey when he says, “Stay with me, Miriam.” His hand flexes against my side. “Sleep in my tent. Make your weapons. Argue with me.”

I search his face. If only he knew just how tempting his words are to a lonely girl like me. And he asks it right as I’m guiltily basking in his arms. Touch is a luxury I’ve gone too long without.

But that’s what it is—a luxury. One I cannot afford, especially with this creature.

“No,” I say. Now that War’s awake, he’s back to looking fierce. It makes it easier to turn him down. “I’ll play along and let you call me your wife, but I’mnevergoing to choose you of my own free will.”

War’s grip tightens against my waist. He pulls me in close. “Do you want to know a truth, Miriam? Humans make proclamations like that all the time. But their oaths are brittle and break with age. I’m not afraid of yours, but you should be afraid of mine for I will tell you this: you are my wife, you will surrender to me, and you will be mine in every sense of the word before I’ve destroyed the last of this world.”

Things have goneback to the way they were.

War is in his tent, I’m in mine, and there are now five thousand people that separate us.

We haven’t spoken since the horseman’s army arrived yesterday. He was swept away into talks with his phobos riders, undoubtedly strategizing the best way to kill off the next city they’ve set their sights on.

As for the rest of us, we’re all settling into this place like it’s a new pair of shoes. In my case, a very ill-fitting pair of shoes. But I guess that’s a personal problem at this point.

My tent and my things were returned to me yesterday, right down to the tattered romance novel and coffee set I inherited from the last poor soul who lived here.

Even my wood was returned to me. Mywood. I thought for sure that would disappear.

I run my hands over a branch now. I’ve been putting off making weapons, but the itch to create has returned to my fingers.

I grab the canvas bag War gave me several days ago. Unceremoniously I turn it over and dump everything out.

I sift through my tools, looking for one to shave away bark. As I do so, my hand brushes against something that doesn’t belong. Pausing, I push away the tools and uncover a familiar metal frame.

Inside it is a picture of my mother, my father, my sister, and me.

A small sound slips out.

Grabbing the photo, I lift it reverently.There’s my family.My throat works as I run my thumb over my sister Lia’s dimpled face. She and my mother are younger here than I remember them—as am I. But this was the last family photo of allfourof us. In it, my mother is alive, my father is alive, my sister is alive, and I am sitting amongst them all.

Getting this back is like getting a piece of myself back. Without it, I might’ve forgotten their faces.

I don’t realize I’m crying until a drop of water hits the glass.

Why would War pack this? Was it an accident? He doesn’t seem like the sentimental type. Or was it meant to be cruel? If it was, it missed its mark.

Outside my tent, I hear the rhythmic pounding of a drum—one, two, three times. I’ve started understanding the noises well enough to distinguish execution drumbeats from celebratory or battle drumbeats. This one heralds in some sort of announcement.

I take a stuttering breath, then carefully I set my family photo aside and leave my tent. Following the growing crowd of people, I make my way to the center of camp.

The layout here is just like it was at the last campsite, so I know exactly where to go; the setting may change, but the spaces don’t.