Page 27 of The Last War We Ever Fought

Impatiently, she chewed on the stolen lemon sherbets War had left behind as she waited for his return.

Would he really delay them?

Could he?

Why would he at all? Maybe he had just lied to her. Deceived her. He could do neither of those since he’d told her he had no desire in such things. She believed him then, but maybe he had changed his tune now.

“You ate them all?”

She coughed at his sudden appearance, almost choking on the candy.

He patted her back and she jumped to her feet, trying to get away from him.

War raised both of his hands up, lowering his eyes, but Rowan had caught the glimpse of hurt that had flashed against the violet. “Apologies. I didn't mean to scare you.”

He didn’t scare her. Not like he thought, at least. “You’re back.”

“I am,” he said, laying back down on his rock. “The soldiers are also returning. Slower, but they are.”

“They are?” How had he done it?

“Is that doubt in your voice, Rowan?”

“It is.”

He smiled. “No need for it. I am the God of War, King of the Gods.”

“I know. What I don’t know are your intentions behind helping me.”

“You asked.”

It simply couldn’t have been that simple. “I’m sure many have asked you to do things for them since you have come down in this camp.”

“And maybe I have obliged.”

“Have you?”

“No,” he said, pensively. “No, Rowan, I haven't.”

“You helped me because I look like her, didn’t you?”

The pensiveness in his eyes and voice grew dour. “Yes.”

“That was a lie, wasn’t it?” Though it had been only a few days, she could easily tell his lies, mostly because she hadn't heard any from him thus far. Something that was odd considering that it took Rowan much longer to distinguish human lies. Humans were good liars—terrific even. They lied to the point of self-destruction. They lied until they believed their own lies, until they manifested them into reality. They lied until they had manipulated their own minds, until the lie had grown into an ugly disease which they couldn't get rid of. Rowan knew. Rowan had been living with that disease herself. It was killing her. Maybe it would kill her. Some nights she hoped it would. Some nights she prayed it didn’t, that the gods would also choose the least cruel thing to do with her life. That they’d allow her death to be swift.

“It was.”

She forced her feet forward until she was standing near his rock, compelled by his lie and her desire to dissect it. Carefully, she sat down. “Why do you sit here?”

“I’ve got a great view.”

Rowan tilted up her head to look up at the skies only to find them as arid, as blue and as insipid as they had always been. “Your world must be so different from this one. No one would consider this a great view,” she said, looking back down at him, finding him already looking back at her. It flustered her even though she had tried to not let herself be flustered by him.

“On the contrary. It’s spectacular.”

Rowan swallowed hard, and even though she wanted to look away from him, she couldn’t. Instead, she found herself compelled to ask, “What was her name?”

His eyes almost swallowed her entirely, roaming over every inch of her face, watching certain features more intently than others. “She had many names. Thousands. In every new life she lived.”