The General parts 33-34

2 chapters :)

Malik is wrong.

I’m not pregnant. It’s impossible. My body is so malnourished that I sometimes skip menstrual cycles. I haven’t had any symptoms of pregnancy, and it has been weeks since War came inside me.

But what if…

My horror is joined by shame and sadness. Malik is long gone by now, and the other Masters are trickling out.

Malik is right. I’m not worthy of being beside War. Although he broke my heart by telling me that he and his brothers can’t stand me, he didn’t lie. I’m feeble-minded.

“You have not finished your food.”

I jerk with alert and realized that I got lost in thought for an hour. War is back, fully clothed. He hovers over me and stares with indifference.

The man who loves me stares as if I’m a stranger, and it’s all my fault.

Do I love him back? I haven’t felt love in such a long time that it’s hard to remember what it’s like. All I know is that I feel something bigger than lust for War. I care about him, even more since he came for me.

I snap out of it. “Sorry.”

“Is it cold? Would you like it warmed?”

Even now, he worries about me.

“It’s alright.” I take the spoon and quickly shovel food into my mouth. On the fifth spoonful, he snatches my wrist. A bolt of heat goes up my arm from the contact. My body starves for him while I could very well have a piece of him in my womb.

“Slow down,” War orders.

I cough and sputter. “Sorry,” I repeat, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Awkwardness does its thing, and I’m stuck between fight and flight. I choose flight. Of course I do.

“You should finish eating. We will roll out soon. Did you want to stop at the orphanage?”

The decision to leave or stay replaces my previous choice. I can argue that I want to stay at the orphanage, but that would mean parting with War for good. That is, if he would even let me go.

Malik thinks my place is with him.

“I do.”

I’ll stay with him. I will because something in my chest tells me Malik was brutal but honest. War needs me.

He nods. “We leave after the execution.”

I swallow, hard. “Whose execution?”

That might be the stupidest question I’ve asked yet.

His face hardens. “You will not sway me on this. That male will die by my hand.”

“Did The Queen approve of this? Was she who decided this?”

I want him to say yes. I want the blood to be on The Queen’s hands, not War’s. He has killed before, and I don’t want to add more skeletons to his closet.

“She opposes it, but I get the ultimate word. She knows better than to defy me.”

“War—”

“No.” He slams on the brakes. “I will hear no more on this.”

“I just think—”

“You do not lead an army. I do. The way Masters feel and think differs greatly from other males. The way we respect is different. There is nothing but filth in Vrint, and I will keep order among my ranks by making an example out of him.”

An example? The word makes me flinch.

“The execution will happen before we depart to the orphanage.”

There’s no changing his mind. The Queen didn’t, and it looks like I won’t be able to, either. I’ve been proven to be the person with the most influence over him, but that isn’t enough. His hatred for Vrint is too great.

“I don’t want to be there. I don’t want to see him die,” I admit.

“I would not ask you to.” He straightens and glances at my food. “Finish your meal. I will return for you.”

I watch his strong back as he walks away. His broad shoulders are proud and his stroll is purposeful. He is such a magnificent man— both biologically and psychologically. Why is it so difficult to stand beside him?

I finish eating, and wait. When it starts to get late, I consider walking to the room beside with my shredded feet. I only stay seated because I know War wouldn’t like that.

He returns eventually. After checking my empty plate, he says, “There has been a change of plans.”

He picks me up, and I feel his chest rumble with a familiar intensity that I’ve missed. “I will have someone take you to the orphanage as I finish business.”

I dip my chin. “Alright. Be safe, okay?”

He stops walking, and I wonder if I said anything wrong.

“Stop saying things like that. It makes it worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do not tell me to be safe. It entangles my thoughts further.”

Oh, I see. He’s not used to having people worrying about him.

“Sorry.”

I don’t mean it, though. I will never be sorry for wanting to be safe.

“Besides, you are the one with the torn feet. I will enjoy whipping those bastards.”

“Whipping?”

He doesn’t reply. He sets me on the bed, stands to his full glory, and shrugs his shirt off until all I see is a wall of ripped, toned, scarred muscles.

My core clenches with unexpected desire, but instead of jumping me, War tosses his shirt aside and picks up a sword resting against the wall. He swings it over a shoulder and heads out.

There’s a knock at the door a minute later. “Female, I was ordered by The General to escort you to the orphanage.”

“Be there in a second.” I stand on my tippy toes and bite back a groan.

I open the door and find two Masters I recognize.

“Hi.”

Their gaze drop to my feet.

“The General has authorized us to touch you for transportation. I will engage now.”

I nod, and the blank-faced Master reaches for me. He lifts me into his arms, and although he’s strong, I feel unnerved in his embrace because he’s not War.

I pass Malik on my way outside, but he doesn’t look my way. I drop my gaze, feeling embarrassed.

My escort helps me atop a scaly beast and leads it by the reins.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you rode too?” I ask him.

“The General forbade me from riding with you.”

I guess the thought of another man’s thighs encasing me was too much for War to bear. I’m actually surprised he’s letting another man escort me.

We reach the orphanage after some time, and Lady Hope comes barreling out before I get to swing off.

“Joan! I am so happy to see you.”

Little faces press against the windows of the second floor. I smile brightly at Hope so the kids can see I’m alright.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. Things got out of hand, but I’m fine.”

I can’t say the same for the dozens of guards that War pummeled through.

“What happened? I was so baffled.”

“Vrint is not a good person. He set me up,” I summarize.

“How?”

Answering that would require disclosing my relationship with War, and I would hate if Hope treated me differently after she knew how close we are.

“It is behind me now. Hope, I want you to go in room and sell everything valuable you find. There isn’t much, but—”

“What are you talking about, girl? Why does it sound like you’re leaving?”

“Use it for the orphanage. I’m sorry.” I swallow hard, but keep a brave face for the kids. “I have to go back to camp. I’m needed there.”

“Oh,” she frowns. “I will miss you terribly. And the kids—”

“Tell them an inspirational story. Tell them I left to do something great and that I’ll miss them and expect them to embark on adventures that are just as meaningful when they’re older.”

Something great? I’m going to camp to scrub pots and keep War from ripping heads off shoulders.

“They will miss you.”

“I will miss them more.”

“Do you want to come inside and talk to them?”

I shake my head, because I know I’ll cry if I see their sad little faces up close.

“I’ll see you again,” I promise her. With one last smile at the children, I nod at my escort.

I make a mental note to borrow money from War and send it to Hope. It doesn’t matter how long I have to work for to pay it back.

I’m led to the edge of the city, where the caravan of Masters await to ride into the wilderness until reaching the isolated camp.

On my way, I hear the city louder than ever. They’re catching wind of the gossip, whispering and remarking about it. They’re so engrossed that they don’t notice the human riding through the crowds was behind it all.

I find War at the very front of the caravan. I know what he’s done. He took Vrint’s life and punished others, but he doesn’t look shaken up by the violence. His face is hard like the rest of him.

I’m led to the front, right by his side, but I know the Masters don’t see a General and his strong significant other.

They see a General and his whore.

“I said goodbye to the orphanage,” I tell him shyly because it’s unnerving to have all these eyes on me.

He nods.

“Can I ask for something?”

The words taste like sand.

War nods, still expressionless.

“Can I borrow some money?”

He blinks slowly. I feel judged.

“What do you need to buy?”

“It’s not for me. It’s for the orphanage. I’ll pay you back, I promise. I…”

“I do not need you to pay me back, female. Do I look poor to you?” Without stepping off his beast, he reaches with his enormous arms, grasps my hips, and swings me in front of him. The quick, smooth motion surprises me, but we’re galloping before I can process it.

“The orphanage will be taken care of,” he promises.

“Thank you,” I acknowledge instantly.

I look over my shoulder to get a last glimpse of the city, somewhere in which Vrint’s head is separated from his shoulders, a Queen is rattled, high ladies are embarrassed, and guards are left traumatized.

War’s broad shoulders block my view. It’s like all he wants me to focus on is him.

I look forward. The wind feels like an endless slap on my face. Breathing has become harder, although I have all the oxygen in the world rushing at me. Every breath I take seems to get knocked out of my lungs when the beast below me gallops.

Hands settle at my waist and pin me back to a bare chest, minimizing my bouncing. War has read me, as usual.

We ride hard. If it weren’t for his hold, I would have toppled off a long time ago. My thighs have become to chafe from the friction. Masters are used to this, but I’ve only been atop these beasts a handful of times.

Camp comes closer with every bounce, and dread spreads in my belly. I’ll have to take a pregnancy test when I arrive. Paranoia of hurting my belly makes me gently squeeze War’s forearm to grab his attention.

“Yes?” he asks, gaze still locked on the horizon.

“Can you slow down, please?”

He slows, and the Masters behind us do, too.

We ride at a more manageable pace, and I let out a shaky breath.

It takes two days of riding to arrive. We paused a few times for breaks and to allow me to sleep a few hours. As usual, the Masters just lingered since they don’t need sleep like my inferior body.

When we finally stroll into the camp, I find many unhappy faces— mainly female.

War helps me to my wobbly feet, which have healed enough I can take a couple of steps. I step toward War’s tent, and he grasps my shoulder.

“Where are you going?”

“To your place. I know you’ll be busy, so I’ll go clean and wait for you.”

“No,” he says.

“War, I’m healed. I can clean and return to my normal duties.”

There is no way I’m spending another week sitting around completing no work.

“That’s not what I meant. You will no longer sleep or reside with me. You will return to your tent immediately.”

It feels like I got punched. He’s keeping me at arms-length.

“And it is best if you address me as General from now on.”

He’s revoking my freedom to call him by his first name.

I’m losing him.

“Oh.” I reply, disappointment poignant around me.

The last thing he says is, “I have work to do,” before he gives me his back.

I take a step toward him, but his quick strides quickly carry him away.

a/n: How do we feel about War's cold shoulder?