Page 26 of The Last War We Ever Fought

All while he stood on the other side of the darkness. Watching her.

Rowan had never cried in front of anyone. Never had shed a tear when she’d been hurt or bleeding. Even over her parent’s grave, she had not shed a single tear. She couldn't. She didn’t know her parents well enough to miss them, to need them, to seek them at night when she’d had nightmares. Rowan had never cried before because of her rotten fate that had brought her this far and shaped her to be the monster Adam had talked about.

But she did because of him.

She didn’t want to be defended, justified, not by him out of all. But out of all he’d done so. Without a single doubt. As if he had not witnessed her monstrous ways Adam had talked about.

Maybe it was just one monster defending another monster.

At that moment, it had not mattered.

Rowan had thought about it long and very hard before she stomped to where he had sat just outside of their camp, sunbathing on top of a flat rock slightly raised from the ground and eating more lemon sherbets.

“Delay them,” she plainly said.

He smiled up at the blue skies, or perhaps at her. “Even in my dreams you sound angry.”

She kicked his foot and the ancient god jerked upright, shocked at her gesture more than angry. “Did you just…kick me?”

“Delay. Them.”

He scowled and stood. “Who?”

“Adam’s battalion heading to Gobresh.”

“I can’t interfere in this, Rowan.”

She swallowed hard, claws holding back her next words in her throat, trying to pull them back down to the pits of her pitiful insides that had surrendered to hopelessness. “Please,” she uttered the words in one shaky breath.

Those violent eyes hardened on her. “Rowan.”

She fell down to her knees before him and begged, “Please.”

The look on his face was nothing short of terrifying, stern shadows falling over his features. “Why do you want to prevent this war that hasn’t even happened yet this badly?”

Rowan shook her head and begged again, “Please, just this.” Her eyes lowered. “I-I will be her. I will be whoever you wish me to be. I’ll pretend.”

“Get up, Rowan.”.

She didn’t.

“Rowan, get up,” he called with none of his usual humour or amusement.

Looking up, she found him standing over her, his hand stretched to her. “Will you do it?”

“I will. Now, get up.”

Wincing, she put a palm to her aching knee. “My knee is locked. Give me a minute,” she said, truthfully. She had very bad joints. It was what heavy training and many days sleeping against cold surfaces did to one's body.

He hooked his arms under her shoulders and hoisted her up like she was a toddler, all one hundred and forty pounds of her. Once she was on her feet, he bent down to one knee and shook the dirt from her legs.

Rowan almost recoiled at that, looking around the camp to make sure no one could see the God of War kneeling before her and cleaning her up.

He got up, raked one last look over at Rowan and then turned towards the forest.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To delay them.”