Page 171 of Warlord's Plaything

"Then don’t ask me to."

For the first time since this all started, since war became the only thing we could see?—

Hira’s shoulders drop.

She looks tired.

Not just from battle.

Not just from pain.

But from this.

From us.

From what we’ve been dancing around since the beginning.

She lifts a hand, pressing her fingers to her temple."Tomorrow, we fight. Tomorrow, we might die."Her voice is quieter now."But tonight?—"

She doesn’t finish.

She doesn’t have to.

I already know.

This is our last moment.

And neither of us want to waste it.

I reach for her, curling my fingers into the leather strap across her shoulder, pulling her against me.

Her breath catches.

And then she lets go.

Lets herself collapse into me, lets herself forget, just for a moment.

And fuck?—

I do too.

Because tomorrow might be the last time I ever hold her like this.

And if it is?—

Then I want to remember.

54

HIRA

The night feels unnatural.

Like it's holding its breath.

Like it's waiting for something to die.

Or maybe?—

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