Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)(96)

He had been met by the opposite, as if Attie and Marisol and Keegan were eager for something to lift the heaviness of their spirits.

He continued to wait for Iris, and he didn’t know what to expect, but the moment he saw her walk through the doors with her hair swept up, adorned with flowers … he felt a rush of pride. Of immense joy, so deep there was no end to it, nor a way to measure it. He felt it break across his face in a wide smile, create a skip in his breath.

Attie brought her to him over the stone pathway, and there was a brightness in Iris’s eyes he had never seen before. It seemed like he waited hours for her, and yet it only felt like a breath had passed when Iris reached for his hand.

She was warm, flushed from her shower. Her palm was like silk in his.

Roman studied her face. He wanted to memorize it, the way she looked in the dusk. We are really doing this, he thought with a shiver. They were getting married in their jumpsuits on the eve of battle, six hundred kilometers away from home.

He didn’t know why she suddenly began to blur. Why her edges melted before him, as if she were a vision. A dream about to fade. Not until he blinked and tears slipped down his face.

He hadn’t cried in years. He hadn’t cried since Del. He had kept his feelings tightly locked away since then, as if it were wrong to set them free. As if they were a weakness, bound to ruin him.

But now that his tears were falling, it was like a dam had been breached. A small crack, and those old feelings of guilt flowed forth. He wanted to let them go; he didn’t want to bring all this baggage into his marriage with Iris. But he didn’t know how to be free of it, and he realized she would simply have to take him as he was.

“Roman,” Iris whispered tenderly. She rose on her toes and framed his face. She wiped his tears, and he let them fall until he could see her again, vividly.

And he thought, What have you done to me?

“Are we ready?” Keegan asked.

He had nearly forgotten about Keegan with her little book of vows, and Marisol with the two rings, and Attie with her basket of flowers.

But the stars were emerging overhead. The sun had retreated behind the hill; the clouds bled gold. It was almost dark.

“Yes,” he whispered, never taking his eyes from Iris.

“Take each other’s hands,” Keegan said. “And repeat after me.”

Iris let her hands slip back into his. Her fingers were damp from his tears.

The vows they spoke to each other were ancient. Words once carved in stone during a time when all the gods lived and roamed the earth.

“I pray that my days will be long at your side. Let me fill and satisfy every longing in your soul. May your hand be in mine, by sun and by night. Let our breaths twine and our blood become one, until our bones return to dust. Even then, may I find your soul still sworn to mine.”

“Beautiful,” Keegan said, turning to her wife. “Now for the rings.”

Marisol had found these rings in her jewelry box. She had told Roman that the silver band that had once been her aunt’s would fit Iris. And the copper ring was for him, to wear on his smallest finger. Just until he could get them proper matching bands.

Iris’s brows raised in surprise when Marisol gave her the copper ring. She obviously hadn’t expected they would still get married this day, let alone have rings to exchange, and she slipped it on his pinkie. Roman quickly returned the favor, sliding the silver onto her finger. It was a bit loose, but it would do for now.

He liked to see it on her hand, gleaming in the light.

“And now to conclude our service,” Keegan said, shutting the book, “seal your vows with a kiss.”

“At last,” Roman said, despite the fact their vows had taken only half a minute.

Iris laughed. Gods, he loved the sound, and he drew her closer. He kissed her thoroughly; his tongue brushed against hers, and he reveled in the slight gasp she gave him.

His blood was pounding, but they still had to eat dinner. Marisol had insisted on it. And so he broke the kiss.

Attie cheered, tossing flowers over them. Roman watched the petals cascade like snow, catching in their hair. Iris smiled, weaving her fingers with his.

He thought about who he had been before he had met her. Before she had stepped into the Gazette. Before her letter had crossed his wardrobe door. He thought about who he wanted to be now that her hand was in his.

He would always be grateful for his decision that night, not so long ago. The night when he decided to write her back.



* * *



Marisol sat them down, side by side, at the table. Iris was hungry, but she was also so excited and nervous that she wasn’t sure how much she’d be able to eat.

“Soup and bread tonight,” Marisol said, setting two bowls down before them. “Simple fare, but it should be enough, I hope?”

“This is perfect, Marisol,” Iris said. “Thank you.”

Not long after that, soldiers began to file in, partaking in a quick meal before they returned to their stations. The B and B was soon hot and crowded, brimming with candlelight and low murmurs. Iris continued to sit close beside Roman, her hand in his, resting on his thigh.

“I hear someone got married tonight,” one of the soldiers said with a smile.

Iris blushed when Roman held up his hand. “I’m the lucky one.”

That set off a round of cheers and claps, and Iris was amazed to find this felt normal, like any other night. And yet tomorrow was Enva’s Day, the end of the week. Anything could happen, and Iris tried to bury her worries. She wanted to simply enjoy the present. This was the life she wanted—slow and easy and vibrant, surrounded by people she loved.