Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)(22)

Roman met her gaze, and she glanced away, unable to hold his stare.

“You’re nineteen,” she guessed. “But you have an old soul, don’t you?”

He only laughed.

“I take it that I’m correct,” Iris said, resisting the temptation to laugh with him. Because of course he would have one of those sorts of laughs. The ones you couldn’t hear and not feel in your own chest. “So. Tell me about her.”

“Who? My muse?”

“Your fiancée. Elinor A. Little,” Iris said, although she was intrigued to know what, exactly, inspired him. “Unless she is your muse, and in that case, how utterly romantic.”

Roman fell quiet, his half-eaten sandwich on his lap. “No, she’s not. I’ve met her once. We exchanged polite pleasantries and sat across from each other at dinner with our families.”

“You don’t love her?”

He stared into the distance. Iris thought he wouldn’t reply until he asked, “Is it possible to love a stranger?”

“Perhaps in time,” Iris said, wondering why she was giving him hope. “Why are you marrying her, if not for love?”

“It’s for the good of our families.” His tone became cold. “Now. You’ve graciously offered to help me with my article. What sort of assistance would you like to give me, Winnow?”

Iris set her sandwich aside. “Can I see the notes you’ve gathered so far?”

Roman hesitated.

“Never mind,” she said with a wave of her hand. “That’s rude of me to ask. I would never show you my notes either.”

He wordlessly reached into his bag and handed her his notepad.

Iris began to sift through the pages. He was methodical, organized. He had plenty of facts and numbers and dates. She read a few lines of his first draft, and she must have made a pained expression because Roman fidgeted.

“What is it?” he asked. “What have I done wrong?”

Iris closed the notepad. “You haven’t done anything wrong yet.”

“These notes are verbatim, Winnow. I asked the parents about their missing daughter. Those are their answers. I’m trying to express such in my writing.”

“Yes, but there’s no feeling. There’s no emotion, Kitt,” Iris said. “You asked the parents things like ‘When was the last time you heard from your daughter?’ ‘How old is she?’ ‘Why did she want to fight for Enva?’ And you have the facts, but you didn’t ask them how they’re doing or what advice they would give for someone experiencing a similar nightmare. Or even if there’s something the paper or community can do for them.” She handed him his notepad. “I think for this particular article, your words should be sharp as knives. You want the readers to feel this wound in their chest, even though they’ve never experienced a missing loved one.”

Roman flipped his notepad open to a fresh page. He rummaged for a pen in his bag and then asked, “May I?”

Iris nodded. She watched as he wrote, his handwriting turning her words into elegant ink.

“You said that your brother is missing,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“He enlisted five months ago,” Iris said. “Forest and I were always very close. So when he promised to write to me, I knew he would. But week after week passed, and his letters never came. So then I waited for a letter from his commanding officer, which they send when soldiers are killed or go missing at the front. That never came either. So I’m left with this fragile thread of hope that Forest is safe but unable to communicate. Or perhaps he’s engaged in a dangerous mission and can’t risk contact. Those are the things I tell myself, at least.”

“And what does that feel like?” Roman asked. “How would you describe it?”

Iris was quiet for a beat.

“You don’t have to reply,” he hurried to add.

“It feels like wearing shoes that are too small,” she whispered. “With every step, you notice it. It feels like blisters on your heels. It feels like a lump of ice in your chest that never melts, and you can only sleep a few hours at a time, because you’re always wondering where they are and those worries seep into your dreams. If they’re alive, or wounded, or sick. Some days you wish that you could take their place, no matter the cost. Just so you can have the peace of knowing their fate.”

She watched as Roman wrote everything down. He paused after a moment, staring at his script.

“Do you mind if I quote you for the article?”

“You can quote me, but I’d prefer to remain anonymous,” Iris replied. “Autry knows my brother is fighting, but no one else at the Gazette does. I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

Roman nodded. And then he said, “I’m sorry, Winnow. About your brother.”

Two apologies from Roman Kitt in the span of an hour? This day had truly caught her by surprise.

As they began to pack up to return to work, a cold breeze blew through the park. Iris shivered in her trench coat, glancing up at the bare branches that creaked above her.

She wondered if she had just inadvertently given the promotion to Roman Kitt.





{9}





One Piece of Armor


Her mother was gone that evening.