War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,132
and not by illness either.”
I exhale. “A doctor won’t be able to do anything other than tell me to rest and drink lots of fluids.”
War doesn’t look nearly so convinced.
“Please, I promise you, I’m not dying,” I insist, drinking down the cup of water he gave me.
Behind me, the tent flaps rustle, and one of his phobos riders steps inside. “My Lord, we need to talk to you about”—the rider’s eyes flick to me, and he doesn’t quite manage to hide his surprise—“the next raid.”
“Not now,” War says, refilling my glass of water. He only has eyes for me, and it feels embarrassingly good to be the center of his world.
“Go,” I say. “I’m fine.”
War’s jaw tightens subtly. “You’re not.”
“I am,” I insist.
“And the undead?” he asks accusingly.
I get his unspoken meaning. He sent away all of his zombies. If he leaves, there will be no one to guard me.
I’m ashamed at how much my heart soars, hearing his concern. I thought he didn’t care. There were days when I was sure of it. Only now am I aware of how much that hurt me.
“You’re going to have to have faith that I’ll be alright,” I say. Even as I speak, I feel my nausea begin to rise once more.
“Faith is for humans,” War mutters, but after a moment, he nods to his phobos rider.
The horseman comes over to me and takes my face in his hands and kisses me long and hard. “We will continue to discuss your health when I return. Until then, arm yourself, wife.”
War releases my face, and then he leaves.
“So you’re back with him.” Zara’s voice drifts in from outside my tent.
I’m back inside my old quarters, gathering together my things. I left War’s tent shortly after he did so that I could pick up my belongings … and muster the courage to tell Zara I was moving back in with the horseman. That’s how easily War swayed me. One visit from him and a single request that I live with him again, and I capitulated to it all.
Apparently, I have shockingly weak willpower when it comes to him.
I make my way out of my tent and face Zara. “You heard my conversation with War?”
She nods, her hijab fluttering in the breeze. “I’m going to miss having you as a neighbor … even if your zombies stink.”
I laugh a little at that before my expression turns serious. I stare off behind her, where Mamoon is playing soccer with several other little boys.
This moment and everyone in it seems so fragile. I’m afraid of my own happiness; it’s usually the quiet before the storm.
“Do you love him?” Zara asks me, interrupting my thoughts.
My gaze snaps to her.
I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say. There’s so much not to love about War.
Zara searches my features. Before I can scrape up some sort of answer, she says, “I gave him updates on you, you know.”
My eyes widen. “What? When?”
“While you two were apart,” she says. “He wanted to hear about how you were doing. If you were safe, happy, healthy.”
My heart stutters a little at that. So that’s how he learned I wasn’t eating. I assumed that he’d somehow gotten the information from my guards, but it was Zara who informed him.
“I’m sorry I kept it from you,” she adds—not that she sounds sorry.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask her. I don’t think I’m hurt, but … I can’t say what I’m feeling, knowing my friend was secretly passing along information to War.
“He asked me not to,” she says.
“But I’m your friend.”
“He forced my loyalty the day he saved Mamoon.”
I remember. I just never assumed he would make use of that loyalty.
Zara’s gaze goes to my tent. “Here, let me help you with your things.”
Normally, I’d turn down her offer, but I’m still feeling massively fatigued, and my nausea has returned. I’ll take all the help I can get.
The two of us gather up my few items, only leaving the coffee set behind. We fit most of my belongings into my canvas bag, which I then sling over my shoulder.
“You better come visit me,” Zara says.
I scoff at her. “Like I have anything better to do.”
She gives me a look that says, I wasn’t born yesterday. “I can think of one activity you might prefer over me …”
The two of us break into laughter, and I give her a playful shove. “Zara!”