War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,81
of me again, wife,” he says darkly. “You will be denied.”
With that, War brushes past me. He mounts Deimos, and then he’s gone.
Chapter 31
I kneel down next to Zara, who’s holding her nephew tightly to her, tears tracking down her face.
Her hands go to the wound. There’s still blood covering the area, but once she smears it away, it’s clear there’s nothing beneath the blood except a fresh scab. At the sight of it, a choked sob slips out of Zara.
“He saved Mamoon’s life.” She glances up at me. “How did he do that? And how did you know he could do that?”
I sit down heavily next to her. “He saved my life once before.”
He’s saved your life more than once.
Zara takes my hand and squeezes it. “I can’t repay you, Miriam. Thank you. I am forever in your debt.”
“You are not in my debt. Besides,” I reach over and pull Zara’s headscarf back over her hair. “You and your nephew are not safe yet.” I glance out at the ocean, where people paw at several of the capsized boats. Our earlier plan—to have Zara’s family escape to sea—has vanished like smoke in the wind. “Let me find you a horse so the two of you can return to camp safely—and remember, if anyone comes at you, kill them.”
There’s so much ferocity in Zara’s eyes. “Gladly.”
I leave them there, scanning the streets for any riderless horses. Inevitably, there’s always some spooked steed riding about. They don’t make for great transportation, but at least it will lessen the odds of Zara and her nephew getting attacked. War’s army doesn’t tend to target mounted men and women.
A block away, I see a horse tethered to a lamppost. I jog down the street towards it. It’s definitely some soldier’s ride, judging by the weapons and kitsch shoved into its saddle bags—the items clearly lifted from some poor soul’s house.
Too bad for that soldier, his stolen goods are about to get stolen from him.
As soon as I get to the horse, I begin to untie the creature’s reins.
“Hey!” a man shouts from above me.
Three stories up a soldier leans out the window. Apparently, this is the horse’s rider, busy pillaging another house.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he yells at me.
Ignoring him, I finish untying the reins and haul myself onto the steed.
There’s something undeniably satisfying about stealing from a thief.
Tapping the horse’s sides, I take off, smiling at the string of colorful curses the soldier shouts at my back.
It takes barely any time at all to ride back to Zara and her nephew.
I swing off the horse, dust billowing in my wake. “Alright, you get on first, then I’ll lift your nephew—”
“Mamoon,” she interjects. She gives me a small smile. “His name is Mamoon.”
“—I’ll lift Mamoon to you.”
She hesitates, not wanting to be away from him for even a moment. But eventually she stands, lifting her exhausted nephew in her arms. She hands him to me, then pulls herself onto the steed.
I look down at the toddler in my arms, and my heart swells.
He’s alive when he might’ve died. War spared him.
War spared him.
Zara reaches out and I lift her nephew up and into her arms. Together the two of us settle him onto the saddle in front of Zara.
The moment Mamoon realizes he’s on a horse, he begins to cry. It’s not the burning houses or the screaming people, or even my weapons that ends up terrifying him. It’s the horse.
“Sssh. Mamoon,” my friend says. “Zaza’s got you.”
“Hey!” That same male voice from earlier shouts. I glance over, and I see the soldier stalking towards us.
I turn back to Zara. “Time to go.”
Zara glances over at the man.
“Will you be—?”
“I’ll be fine.” I’m already sliding my bow off my shoulder. “Go. I’ll see you later.”
Zara nods and gives the horse a swift tap to its sides, and her mount takes off.
“Hey!” the man says again. “That was my horse!”
“Get another one,” I say, turning to him as I pull an arrow from my quiver.
“I’m not going to fucking get another one,” he says, storming towards me, a sword on his hand. “You’re going to get my horse back, or you’re going to regret it.”
I nock the arrow and aim it at his chest. “Come any closer, and I will shoot.”
The soldier doesn’t so much as falter.
I release the arrow, and he sidesteps it. I aim and fire another and another—both he evades without even looking concerned.