Page 8 of The Last War We Ever Fought

“That means you will leave this realm alone?”

“You really believe it is I who has not left this realm alone?” He cocked an eyebrow up. “They pray for me, Rowan. Not to me. They do not pray to me to let them be. They wish for me, they yearn for me, they seek my blessing.” For a quiet moment, he just looked at her—something that flustered her because no one had ever looked at her, not like he was—in fact, no one really dared to look at Rowan at all, let alone like that. They didn’t dare say her name as he did either. “It is strange how you’ve been surrounded all your life with people who have prayed for me and never have noticed it. Not all do, but most have. Usually, the ones that never have are the ones who have lost hope entirely, those that fight because there either is nothing for them to do or because they know of nothing else.”

“How do you not hate it?”

“Do you hate what you are?”

Rowan didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

She didn’t know why the look in his eyes softened, or why the violet in his eyes turned such a pale lilac. “Why?”

It was the easiest and simplest thing Rowan had ever answered. “Because the world would be so much better if I didn’t exist.”

He looked away from her for the first time since they’d met, his gaze raising to the dull waning moon. “You do not know how untrue that is.”

“I do not need your flattery,” she bitterly snapped, feeling deep seated anger limber up. “You still haven’t answered me.”

“I’m not ready for you to stop talking just yet.”

Rowan’s patience had it for the night. Turning round, she walked towards the forest. Without her answer. Only with more questions.

Three poppies

She’d lied.

She’d sat at their meeting, all eyes and attention on her, and she had lied to all of them.

When the other two generals had asked her for the layout plans of the last battle ahead before they would take the Gobresh capitol, she’d lied.

The river tide, she had told them.

Not in their favour for crossing any time soon.

Even the detailed calculations she’d taken and mapped out for them were all false. He knew that because he’d seen her take those measurements and written the wrong numbers down intentionally. He’d followed her around all day, watching her do what he was told was the best anyone could do, and she’d done the exact opposite. Instead of letting them know that it was the most favourable time to cross the largest river between the kingdoms, she’d made them wait for another moon.

He’d made him a liar, too.

As when the generals and the captains had glanced at him in approval, he’d remained silent. That had been enough of a confirmation to them.

There was only one intention behind this that Elijah would make sense of. She wanted to delay them. The reasoning, however, he had none he could think of.

“They fell for your lies unusually fast,” he said, taking a seat beside her as Adam, one of the generals, left the tent.

Her movement halted and she froze entirely. There was nothing in her face to let anyone know she was affected in any way by him knowing the truth as she looked up at him. “They did. I’ve done nothing for them to doubt my words. I’ve won them countless battles,” she easily confessed to him, making him doubt every single thing he’d known about her so far.

“You don’t want to win them this one, too?”

She returned to her papers, rolling them neatly and placing them back into her bag. Not answering him.

“You could lie to me,” he probed, wanting for her to keep talking to him.

“What would the point be?”

“What if I tell them?” He wouldn’t. He wasn’t there to meddle in human affairs. Especially not in such interesting ones as the one Rowan was concocting.

She scoffed—the closest thing to amusement he’d seen from her. “Then tell them.”

“You don’t fear repercussions?”