The General ✔️ (Zolan Book 1)

22

"Joan!" War calls after me.

I run around the tent with Yippy in my arms, going straight for my favorite tree. It's where I treated Malik. I haven't been there in a long time.

I embrace the ache in my thighs as I run. I can only hope War doesn't catch up to me, or else I'll have to lower my head and abide to his command of returning. I can't disobey him in public again because that would only inspire disobedience in other camp members.

No matter how many times I'm in his arms, no matter how many times I sass him, no matter how many times I have sex with him, I'll always be another one of his subjects.

I sit under the tree and look over my shoulder in search of him. Two Masters walk together, carrying a dead animal that would be cooked for camp. They take one look at me and make a wide berth.

I've become an enigma here. I finally matter, but not in the sense I had been hoping for.

Approaching footsteps perk my attention, because few dare to approach me nowadays. I look behind the tree and rush to my feet when I see Malik.

He stops ten feet away. "Joan. What are you doing here? It is getting late."

"Hi," I smile at his chest. "Long time no see. Would you like to sit with me?"

He palms the grip of his sword. "Interesting. I am reluctant to breathe in your direction because it would infuriate your male, and yet you still do not meet my eyes."

My male?

"It's out of respect. I cannot meet your eyes because you're higher in status. You know this, Malik."

"The General is at his knees for you. He does not even show this much devotion to the Queen, and she cannot do anything about it because he's the best soldier on Zolan."

I shuffle my feet, because while there's some truth to his words, the power feels undeserved. I'm a nobody— skilled in a few areas, averse in ones that matter such as bravery. I'm no Queen.

"Look at me," he encourages.

"I don't know..." I hesitate.

"Do it. If The General's irises did not evaporate your soul, neither will mine."

I look up. First, I see his dimpled chin, then his nose, and finally those dark red eyes of his. He's handsome and as stiff as the rest of his body.

"Hi," I say again.

"You have already greeted me. Why repeat this?"

I shake my head with a smile. "I have been trying to get in touch with you to see how you were doing."

"Why? You have concluded your lessons. There is no need for further interactions with me."

"Because you kept me company, and you were kind. I consider you a friend."

Malik tips his head to the side curiously, the short strands of hair that touch his forehead shifting with the motion. "Masters do not have friends."

I figured he would say something like that.

"Have you been well?"

"Of course. We are winning the war."

Even after all those late night evenings under candlelight and walking under the scorching sun carrying buckets of water together, there's a coldness to him. I don't know what it is about Masters, but they seem emotionally unreachable. The only one that seems unaffected is War.

"I should return to work." He looks at Yippy and then back at me. "Do not stray away from camp. It is not safe."

I nod and watch him go.