War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,144
take you—and our child along with you.
“It’s hard to be aware of that fact and to not think about all the other fathers whose families I’ve killed. Whose loves I’ve killed. I am filled with growing shame at what I’ve done because losing you is already unfathomable.
“So yes, I believe I’ve grown a conscience.”
The horseman has done so many horrible things. He deserves to lose the only things he’s ever cared about. Maybe then he would actually know the price of his war. But I don’t want to die, I don’t want my baby to die, and most twisted of all, I don’t want War to feel pain the way he’s made others feel it. Even if it would be just.
He’s not the only one who’s been softened by this relationship.
“You really want a child?” It comes out as a whisper. I didn’t even know it was a question on my mind until the words leave my lips.
Being a father seems so completely at odds with everything War is.
“Before I was … a man,” he says, “I would’ve told you no.”
I get a little spooked, just like I always do, at the reminder of what he actually is.
“Back then I was pain and violence and brotherhood and animosity and loss. I feasted on blood and fear. I couldn’t conceive of life when I was so consumed with death.
“But then I was given this form, and suddenly, I existed in an entirely different way. I saw human nature off the battlefield for the first time. More than that, I felt what it was like to live off the battlefield.”
War’s face is laid bare, and for once, he looks very young.
“It greatly unnerved me, wife. There was so much about human nature that I didn’t know until I lived and walked amongst you all, and I felt stirrings of that nature within myself. I thought giving into those feelings was a weakness only mortals succumbed to.
“However, once I met you, and I began wanting things I had never imagined wanting—things I had once rejected. At first I gave into these new feelings I had for you because I believed God had sent you to me. I was supposed to feel companionship and compassion because He decreed it. I was supposed to take you as my wife because He delivered you to me. It wasn’t wrong.”
“Somewhere along the way, my reasons for giving into these human emotions changed. I no longer pursued you because I was supposed to. I craved your company, your smiles, your fierce anger and clever tongue because it brought me the same joy battle did. And the world bloomed into color. For the first time, I began to truly feel this body and every emotion within it.”
I had no idea. No idea that somewhere along all those winding weeks, when everything felt so hopeless to me, War was changing. Even before the vow he made to me, he was changing.
“I realize now,” he says, “this is what living, what being human, truly is.”
It’s late, and somehow I’m hungry and nauseous all at once. Which really isn’t any surprise because this has happened four other times within the last week.
I fucking hate morning sickness. Hate it, hate it, hate it.
I mean, at the very least it could mind its own damn business and just stick to the mornings.
I stumble out of bed. All the lamps are out but one, which is perched on the table. I stumble over to it.
Resting alongside the lamp is a pitcher of water, a glass, and a platter of fruit, cheese, pita bread, and what looks to be hummus.
Caught beneath the platter is a letter that reads, For my ferocious wife and child. I am hoping that if I feed you while I sleep, you won’t try to stab me again. Consider this a peace offering.
My lips twist into a smile at the note. Only War could make light of the fact that I kinda sorta tried to kill him.
I pick up the note, and much to my mortification, I can feel myself getting emotional.
It’s not even like this is a one-off event. For weeks War has been leaving out trays of food for me at night. He’s never commented on it; they’ve just appeared. I hadn’t noticed any notes before, but now I wonder if there were other nights with other midnight notes that went unnoticed. Notes that War cleaned up with the tray in the morning.