War and I both know I’d only use the information to sabotage his efforts.

“That’s not why I’m here,” I say.

“Then why are you here?” he asks, moving away from his map. His eyes are alight with interest.

Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

He strides closer, and I take him in—really take him in. From his imposing frame, to his dark eyes and sharp cheekbones, his cutting jaw and the vast expanse of his bare torso. Everything about him was made to end lives.

I open my mouth—

Bail.

“You know what, forget about it.” The words rush out.

Another time, I promise myself.

Just as I turn to go, War catches my arm, and I twist back to look at him.

He searches my face. “You have a look in your eye …”

I have a look in my eye?

“Tell me why you’re here,” he commands.

My gaze moves from the hand on my arm to his face.

Just woman up say it already.

I exhale. “I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition,” he repeats. His voice carries weight to it, weight that heats my cheeks.

If anyone would understand trades, it would be War. Opposing sides meet, exchange one thing for another, and then resume conflict in the morning.

He continues scrutinizing me with growing intensity. “What is it, wife, that you propose?”

While I stare up at him, I step in close. Very deliberately, I place my palm against his chest.

“I think you want this,” I say softly, unable to spell out exactly what I’m offering. “And more.”

So much more.

War breathes deeply, and his eyes burn. He doesn’t deny it.

“This is your proposition?” he asks.

My dreaded plan.

I nod.

“What do you want?” His voice is deep and resonate.

He wants to make a deal.

I release a shaky breath. This is exactly what I’ve been hoping for. The misgivings I have pale in comparison.

“Stop raising the dead,” I say.

I’m not asking War to end his damnable crusade; I’m simply asking that he not completely eradicate us all. Maybe then some people would survive War’s raids. At this point, some is better than none.

War closes his eyes and moves a hand over mine, pinning my palm to his chest.

“It’s a good offer.” The horseman opens his eyes. “I’m as tempted as I’ll ever be—”

I feel my hope expanding …

“—but no, Miriam, I will not agree to this.”

… then plummeting.

My cheeks flush at the rejection.

I was a fool to think I could persuade him so easily. Or to think that my body has that high of a price tag on it. And then there’s also the petty humiliation I feel. It was debasing enough to offer up my services—but to then have them turned down anyway?

All at once I’m angry—mostly at myself, but at War as well.

I begin to pull my hand away, but he holds it prisoner.

“So quick to leave?” he says.

I openly glare at the horseman, and the look causes him to laugh menacingly.

“Yes, hate me, savage woman; your anger makes you come alive.”

He still has my hand pinned.

“This is where we bargain,” he says.

“This is non-negotiable,” I say. “You can take my offer or leave it and let me go.”

War ignores my words. “What if we camped a little longer between cities?” he says. “I could buy your people some extra time.”

A few days? If I’m going to screw this horseman when and how he asks for it, I want to be buying years—decades even—of someone’s life. Not days.

“That’s not good enough.”

He flashes me a cruel smile. “You’re quick to jump from trades to demands.”

“And you’re quick to shoot them down,” I snap.

The horseman releases my hand, but only so he can run his thumb across my lower lip.

The warlord leans in. “You will give yourself to me anyway. You are marked for me, my war prize.”

Now it’s my turn to give him a cruel smile. “Maybe,” I say. “Maybe you’ll get me, maybe you won’t. But it won’t be tonight—and it could’ve been.”

War’s eyes seem to darken.

Oh, touched on something he wanted now, didn’t I?

Too bad.

I turn and head for the door.

I’m nearly to the tent flaps when he says, “The aviaries.”

My brows furrow, and I glance over my shoulder at him. “What?”

He takes a step forward. “I won’t burn the aviaries.”

I can hear my heartbeat begin to pick up.

The aviaries. That was a city’s most efficient system of communication. If they were left intact, then other cities could be warned about War. People might then have time to flee before the horseman ever entered their city.

I scrutinize the horseman, swiveling more fully to face him. “Is this some sort of trick? You aren’t just planning on giving me your word only to kill the birds off in some other manner?”

War looks almost pleased at my question. Perhaps his strategic mind likes being tested. Meanwhile, here I am, just finding the whole thing tedious.

“I won’t stop my men from killing the birds,” he says, “but I will not explicitly order them to destroy the aviaries.”

This is the best I’m going to get. And it’s damn well better than his first counteroffer.

Slowly, I nod. I nod before I can truly think through the other ramifications of this deal. The ramifications that are going to cost me.

“Alright,” I say softly. “I agree to your terms.”

The horseman’s uncompromising gaze is fixed on mine. Finally, he gives a small nod. “Good. Then we have ourselves a trade.”

His eyes move over me, heating as they go.

“Now, come to me,” he says. His voice has gone rougher, deeper. “Show me what I’ve bought myself.”

Chapter 26

This is really happening.

God, I hadn’t expected it to happen this fast. Maybe I hadn’t truly expected it to happen at all. I think I might still be in shock.

I take a shaky breath. Anxiety and trepidation and perverse excitement all churn in my stomach as I take those halting steps back to him.

One of his hands cups my cheek, and I jolt at the sensation. Now that I know what the two of us will be doing—what I’ve agreed to do—his touch feels particularly electric.

“The things I have imagined, wife,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking my skin. Leisurely he drinks in every facet of my face—my nose, my lips, my cheeks, my eyes.

A shiver courses through me.

War leans in, his mouth the barest breath from mine. Just when I think his lips are going to close over mine, he says, “Touch me.”

I swallow.

Raising my hand, I touch his face softly, so softly. I don’t think this is what War had in mind when he gave me the order, but he’s not objecting. He continues to stare at me, his gaze searing.

What sort of mind lies beneath this handsome face? I’d call him evil and yet I’ve seen the human brand of evil. It thrives on cruelty and torture. I don’t think War is depraved, even though his brutality is astounding.