Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)(63)

“Can’t you see some of us are trying to work?” she shouted.

“Indeed,” he called back smoothly, as if he was well versed in arguing from a window. “But I need your assistance.”

“With what?”

“Open the message.”

“I’m busy, Kitt.”

Attie snatched the paper up before Iris could ruin it with water. She unfolded it and cleared her throat, reading aloud, “‘Alas, what is a synonym for sublime?’” Attie paused as if sorely disappointed, glancing up at Roman. “That’s it? That’s the message?”

“Yes. Any suggestions?”

“I seem to recall that you used to have three dictionaries and two thesauruses on your desk, Kitt,” Iris said, resuming her watering.

“Yes, which someone liked to frequently turn upside down and page-side out. But that’s beside the point. I wouldn’t be bothering you if I had my thesaurus handy,” he replied. “Please, Winnow. Give me a word, and I’ll leave you—”

“What about transcendent?” Attie offered. “Sounds like you’re writing about the gods. The Skywards?”

“Something along those lines,” said Roman. “And you, Winnow? Just one word.”

She glanced up in time to watch him rake his hand through his hair, as if he were anxious. And she had rarely seen Roman Kitt anxious. There was even a smudge of ink on his chin.

“I personally like divine,” she said. “Although I’m not sure I would attribute that to the gods these days.”

“Thank you both,” Roman said, ducking back into his room. He left the window open, and Iris could hear his typewriter clacking as he started to write.

The garden fell suspiciously quiet.

Iris looked at Attie to see her friend was biting her lip, as if to hide a grin.

“All right, Attie. What is it?”

Attie shrugged nonchalantly, draining her watering can. “I wasn’t too sure about this Roman Kitt at first. But he sure does bring the fire out in you.”

“You give him far too much credit,” Iris said, lowering her voice. “You would be the same if your old enemy showed up to challenge you again.”

“Is that why he’s here?”

Iris hesitated, and then fiddled with her watering can. “Do you need a refill?” She took Attie’s empty pail and was retreating to the well when she realized Marisol was standing in the open doorway to the kitchen, regarding them. How long had she been there?

“Marisol?” Iris asked, reading her tense posture. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Marisol replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “The captain is here and would like to take one of you with him to the front.”



* * *



Roman had just finished typing his letter to Iris and slipped it through his wardrobe when he heard the knock on the front door. It sent a shiver through the house, and he stood in his room, listening. He could faintly hear Iris and Attie’s conversation, drifting up from the garden through his window. But he could also hear Marisol as she answered the door.

A man had arrived and was speaking, his voice a muffle through the walls.

Roman couldn’t catch the words. He eased his bedroom door open, straining to hear more.

“… to the front. You have two correspondents here, correct?”

“Three, Captain. And yes, come in. I’ll gather them to speak with you.”

Roman drew in a deep breath and quietly hurried down the stairs. All he could think was that he had to be the one chosen. Not Attie and certainly not Iris. And yet as he moved down the corridor, his heart clenched, stung by fear. He came to a pause in the doorframe, gazing into the kitchen.

Iris was walking in from the garden, dirt on her knees. She had been wearing her hair loose these days, and it never ceased to shock him—to see how long and wavy it was. She came to a stop beside Attie, her hands anxiously fidgeting. Roman couldn’t take his eyes from her. Not even when the captain began speaking.

“I have one seat available in my lorry,” he said in a clipped tone. “Which one of you would like to go?”

“I will, sir,” Iris said before Roman could so much as flinch. “It’s my turn.”

“Very good. Go and fetch your bag. Only bring the essentials.”

She nodded and turned toward the hall. That was when she saw Roman standing in her way.

He didn’t know what sort of expression was on his face, but he watched her surprise descend into something else. It looked like worry and then annoyance. Like she knew the words that were about to come from his mouth, before he even spoke them.

“Captain?” he said. “If she goes, I would like to go with her, sir.”

The captain spun to look at him, brow cocked. “I said I only have one seat in the lorry.”

“Then I’ll ride on the side step, sir,” Roman said.

“Kitt,” Iris hissed at him.

“I don’t want you to go without me, Winnow.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine. You should stay here and—”

“I’m going with you,” he insisted. “Will that be acceptable, Captain?”

The captain sighed, tossing up his hand. “The two of you … go pack. You have five minutes to meet me out front by the lorry.”