Page 20 of The Last War We Ever Fought

“I knew he was tall because of the stupid size,” she almost shouted. “We pick sleeping clothes from piles dropped after battles belonging to the fallen soldiers.”

“I see.”

She paused her scrubbing, frowning at herself. There had been humour in his voice. She pulled her tent curtain back a little to scowl at him, only to find him smiling at himself. “All jolly topics for you, I suppose.”

He looked up at her, his smile turning into a grin. “Don’t forget your face, little thief,” he said, tapping a finger on his cheek.

Rowan let the curtain fall and hid back inside her tent, scrubbing at her face a little more roughly than normal. When she’d gotten all of her skin and hair clean, and her teeth had begun chattering, she left her tent for the infirmary.

Of course, he followed after her like a lost puppy.

“Other way around, Rowan.”

She paused, glanced around and then spun towards the other side of camp when she realised he had been right.

He put a hand on the side of her arm when she swayed on her feet, and she jerked back as if his touch had been burning coals. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Help you?”

“Touch me.”

“It was barely that, Rowan.”

“It’s enough you breathe around me.”

“It really is.”

She glanced up at him and frowned. Why the hell did he make so little sense all the damn time?

“You’re going to trip if you keep looking at me.”

Rowan looked away, angry at herself for even being curious enough to give a shit about him. “Why do you care?” she spat, pulling back the infirmary tent curtain and stepping inside.

The night nurse dozing off on her chair jerked up from her seat. Her eyes wide more on Rowan than on the God of War. “R-Rowan?” the old woman stammered as if she was seeing a ghost.

“I need something for my sleep.”

“For sleep?” The nurse rushed to her cabinet, stumbling on her feet a couple times. Pulling back a sachet, she handed it to Rowan. “Noreberry powder. You can use them fresh as well if you find them in the forest.”

Rowan shook her head. “They resemble haleberries too much.” One of the most poisonous little things in this realm. Death’s fruit.

“Ah,” the nurse said, her eye twitching a little as a droplet of sweat fell down her temple. “They do, you’re right.” She turned her feigned laughter and smile to War. “She’s right. Good thing she is so smart.”

“Good thing,” War agreed, smiling back at her. Giving the nurse a polite nod, he followed after her and into the night as she veered around the tents.

“Why did you pick them the other night?” he asked.

“Picked up what?”

“The haleberries. If you knew what they were, why did you pick them?”

That made her still. “Maybe I have a taste for them.”

“An odd palette you have, little thief. Poison has a very acquired taste.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Who are you going to poison, Rowan?”