Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)(2)

“I’m sure I’ll need the spare hangers, since—as you well know—I keep up with all the current fashion trends,” Iris countered wryly, hoping Forest couldn’t hear the sadness in her voice.

He only smiled.

This was it, then. The platform was nearly empty of soldiers, and the train was hissing through the gloom. A knot welled in Iris’s throat; she bit the inside of her cheek as Forest embraced her. She closed her eyes, feeling the scratch of his linen uniform against her cheek, and she held the words she wanted to say in her mouth like water: How can you love this goddess more than me? How can you leave me like this?

Their mother had already spoken such sentiments, angry and upset with Forest for enlisting. Aster Winnow had refused to come to the depot to see him off, and Iris imagined she was at home, weeping as the denial wore away.

The train began to move, creeping along the tracks.

Forest slipped from Iris’s arms.

“Write to me,” she whispered.

“I promise.”

He took a few steps backward, holding her gaze. There was no fear in his eyes. Only a dark, feverish determination. And then Forest turned, rushing to board the train.

Iris followed until he disappeared into the closest car. She lifted her hand and waved, even as tears blurred her vision, and she stood on the platform long after the train had vanished into the fog. Rainwater was seeping into her shoes. The lamps flickered overhead, buzzing like wasps. The crowd had dispersed, and Iris felt hollow—alone—as she began to walk home.

Her hands were cold, and she slipped them into the coat pockets. That was when she felt it—a crinkle of paper. Frowning, she assumed it was a candy wrapper that Forest had forgotten about until she pulled it out to study in the dim light.

It was a small piece of paper, folded crookedly, with a vein of typed words. Iris couldn’t resist smiling, even as her heart ached. She read:

Just in case you didn’t know … you are by far the best sister I’ve ever had. I’m so proud of you.

And I’ll be home before you know it, Little Flower.





PART ONE


Letters Through the Wardrobe





{1}





Sworn Enemies


FIVE MONTHS LATER

Iris dashed through the rain with a broken high heel and a tattered trench coat. Hope was beating wildly in her chest, granting her speed and luck as she crossed the tram tracks downtown. She had been anticipating this day for weeks, and she knew she was ready. Even soaked, limping, and hungry.

Her first pang of unease came when she stepped into the lobby. This was an old building, constructed before the gods were vanquished. A few of those dead divines were painted on the ceiling, and despite the cracks and the faint light of the low-hanging chandeliers, Iris always glanced up at them. Gods and goddesses dancing among the clouds, dressed in long gilded robes with stars gleaming in their hair, their gazes sweeping the ground. It sometimes felt like those painted eyes were watching her, and Iris stifled a shiver. She removed her mangled right shoe and hurried to the lift with a stilted gait, thoughts of the gods swiftly fading when she thought about him. Perhaps the rain had slowed down Roman too, and she still had a chance.

She waited a full minute. The confounded lift must be stuck, of all days, and she decided to take the stairs, hustling up to the fifth floor. She was shaking and sweating when she finally pushed through the heavy doors to the Oath Gazette, greeted by a wash of yellow lamplight, the scent of strong tea, and the morning hustle of preparing the newspaper.

She was four minutes late.

Iris stood amidst the hum, her gaze flickering to Roman’s desk.

It was empty, and she was pleased until she glanced at the assignment board and saw him standing there, waiting for her to appear. As soon as their eyes met, he gave her a lazy smile and reached up to the board, yanking a piece of paper from a pin. The last assignment.

Iris didn’t move, not even when Roman Kitt wound around the cubicles to greet her. He was tall and lithe with cheekbones that could cut stone, and he waved the piece of paper in the air, just out of her reach. The piece of paper she so badly wanted.

“Late again, Winnow,” he greeted her. “The second time this week.”

“I didn’t know you were keeping tally, Kitt.”

His smirk eased as his gaze dropped to her hands, cradling her broken shoe. “Looks like you ran into a bit of trouble this time.”

“Not at all,” she replied, her chin tilted upward. “I planned for this, of course.”

“For your heel to break?”

“For you to get this final assignment.”

“Going easy on me, then?” He arched a brow. “That’s surprising. We’re supposed to duel to the death.”

She snorted. “A hyperbolic turn of phrase, Kitt. Which you do often in your articles, by the way. You should be careful of that tendency if you get columnist.”

A lie. Iris rarely read what he wrote. But he didn’t know that.

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “What’s so hyperbolic about soldiers going missing at the front?”

Iris’s stomach clenched, but she hid her reaction with a thin smile. “Is that the topic of the last assignment? Thanks for letting me know.” She turned away from him and began to weave around cubicles to her desk.