War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,157

our strange relationship. He takes a step forward, then another, his sword still raised. “Kind enough for me to consider sparing you. But we both know if I do, you’ll try to save him.”

I stare back at Hussain. There’s no use denying it. He already saw me cut down his men. He knows my intentions, just as I now know his.

“Besides,” his eyes move to my stomach, “there’s also the matter of his child …”

Without warning, Hussain brings the weapon down like a hammer, and I barely move out of the way in time. I swipe out at him, but I’m too far away and my weapons are too short to connect with anything.

The last of my emotions take a backseat as I truly engage in battle, dodging Hussain’s successive blows even as I swipe at him with my own weapons.

The two of us duck and pivot, sidestep and lunge, moving almost in synchrony. It’s a violent dance, and Hussain is my partner.

He swings again at me, and this time I’m too slow. I feel the sensation of skin tearing and warm liquid spilling down my arm.

The next second, the pain sets in. Fuck, does it set in. My left upper arm is on fire.

The rider follows the hit with another, this one grazing my other arm, equally deep.

I stare at him, my own attack coming to a grinding halt, and I know he’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me, and he won’t think twice about it. He’s done this a hundred times before. What’s another death? It’s as easy as breathing to him.

Hussain’s gaze has grown a bit excited, as though he relishes this moment where his opponent is caught on the brink between life and death.

“Did you truly think you could become the horseman’s wife and things could end well for you?” he says almost pityingly. “He is a monster. We all are. We don’t have happy endings.”

Hussain swings his sword, intending to slice my torso open, and the only advantage I have at this point is that his weapon is heavy and a bit slow.

I duck under the hit, feeling the air stir above me. Instinct is shouting at me to run, but the only chance I have of stopping him is to do the opposite. So when I rise, I step forward, swinging the battle axe underhanded as I do so.

My wounded arms scream against the weight of the weapon, and I have to grit my teeth against the pain.

The axe catches Hussain in the gut, lodging itself deep in his flesh. For a second I can only stare at the hit dumbly, shocked I actually landed a blow.

A split second later he backhands me, knocking me to the ground. I roll before I get a chance to recover, and an instant later, Hussain’s sword strikes the floor where I was an instant ago.

I scramble on all fours, crawling away from him, War’s dagger clutched in my hand. My cheek feels like it’s on fire.

I can hear Hussain’s heavy breathing. “I’m not dying today, Miriam,” he huffs out, grabbing my ankle and dragging me back to him.

I’m not either.

I flip onto my back just as he lifts his sword over his head, and I kick a booted foot at the axe handle protruding from his belly.

Hussain lets loose a sound that is half angry half agonized, a sound I’ve heard so many times on the battlefield as men and women died. His sword slips from his hand, and I have to roll out of its way as it clatters to the ground.

The rider’s hold on me loosens, and I manage to tug my ankle from his grip. I pull myself to my feet, my gaze moving over Hussain.

A curtain of blood cascades from his wound. It’s a fatal blow, I can tell that right away.

I think he knows it too. He gives a little laugh, even as he braces an arm against a wall. “Can’t believe—you got me,” he gasps out.

Neither can I.

“He’s not coming back to life, you know,” he says. “We’ve made sure of it.”

“I don’t believe that,” I say. I can’t.

I stand there for a moment, dagger in hand. I could kill Hussain right now. I’m not sure if that would be the more merciful thing to do.

I remember War’s words from last night.

Every man, woman, and child on earth is just as capable of redemption as I am … who am I to cut them down before their true