Page 5 of The Last War We Ever Fought

His grip on her hands loosened. “Then go ahead. Rid every world of war. Let them stand still. Let them be hit by famine and disease and remain still, indifferent. Let there be chaos while they stand still.”

“War is chaos, too. Worse than chaos.”

“War is order.”

“Look no further than outside. Do you see order?”

“To be ambitious is not a crime.”

“Murder is.”

“Death is inevitable. If not by war, it will be by something else. Die in battle, or die starving, begging, retching, ridden with disease.” He stepped closer to her. “You believe man would not kill man if there was no desire for war? It is human nature to be malicious. I only use it to my advantage, I do not give them their nature. Humanity is born with it.”

“You encourage it.”

“Nonsense. I’ve never done such a thing.”

“Lies.”

He scowled, almost offended at her accusation. “I am a God. I don’t bother myself with such human manners.”

Rowan’s grip on the blade loosened just slightly. She blamed it on the sweat coating her palm. Then on the little cut on her finger. She blamed it on everything.

“What?” he asked. “Saddened to hear the truth?”

“Disappointed.”

“So you believe me?”

She did. Part because she knew gods didn’t lie. Part because it wasn’t hard to believe the truth he’d just spoken of. Rowan had never been afraid of gods, but she’d been afraid of men. Because she’d seen them do worse harm than any god had ever done.“Did you lie?”

“No.”

“Can you do that math or is it too hard for your godly mind?”

“And she jokes.”

“Choke on your laugh while you’re at it.”

“What an awful way to die.”

She scoffed. Almost laughed, too, but she was rather aggravated. “You’ve never been on a battlefield, have you, oh mighty God of War? You would have seen a thousand more ugly ways to die there.”

“I’ve seen all of them. Every single war there has been fought and I will be here to see the very last one. To die out in the battlefield—to die by a blade is an honour.” He leaned in, bending down to her a little so their faces were close. “So don’t back down on me now. Finish what you started.”

He would be the first she would kill and watch him bleed until his very last breath; Rowan was sure of it. “In a minute,” she said, spinning and throwing her dagger through the thin fabric tent wall.

A small groan let her know she’d hit the target.

She headed outside to find the intruder who’d sneaked through their camp. A boy no more than fifteen had dropped to the muddy ground, nursing an injured leg and moaning in pain.

“Don’t pull it out unless you wish to die,” Rowan said, slowly approaching him.

The young spy tried to scurry away, but stopped when Rowan didn’t move from where she stood and instead raised an impatient brow at him. “What are you going to do with me?”

“What were you going to do with what you’ve gathered in our camp?”

He pressed his lips together, starting to shake from the blood loss and the sudden realisation of what he’d done. “They were going to send my little brother or someone else's brother, son, daughter. No one cares anymore.”