“I’m not marrying her, Father.” The announcement rang in the air. Roman had never felt so relieved in his life until Mr. Kitt’s eyes narrowed. He took his time crushing his cigar into an ashtray and stood, his tall frame casting a crooked shadow.
“Come again, Roman?”
“I’m not marrying Elinor Little,” said Roman. He kept his inflection flat, his expression poised. As if he felt nothing and was merely stating a fact. “She and I are not a good match, but there are other ways I can serve the family. I would like to discuss them with you, if you have time tonight.”
His father smiled. It gleamed like a scythe in the lamplight. “What’s this really about, son?”
“It’s about my freedom.”
“Your freedom?”
Roman gritted his teeth. “Yes. I have already forgone one thing I wanted, based on your desires.”
“And what was that, Roman? Oh wait. I remember,” Mr. Kitt said with a chuckle. “You wanted to throw away years of your life studying literature at university. I’ve already told you once, but I suppose I should say it again: you can’t do anything with such a degree. But being columnist at the Oath Gazette? That will carry you far, son. I only want the best for you, even if you can’t see it now. And you’ll thank me one day when you understand better.”
It took everything within Roman to hold his temper in check. He ground the words he wanted to say between his molars and said, “I have gained columnist, as you wanted. At the very least, you should now agree that I have the right to choose who I want to marry, as you once chose Mother.”
“This is about that lowborn girl at the Gazette, isn’t it?” Mr. Kitt drawled. “She’s caught your eye, against all reason.”
Roman stiffened. He could feel the flush creep across his face, and he struggled to keep his voice calm, emotionless. “There’s no other girl.”
“Don’t lie to me, son. I caught wind of you having lunch with her the other day. And it was a bloody good thing your engagement hadn’t been announced yet, but what if the Littles had learned of it? What if they had seen you with her, the way you sat close beside her on a bench, sharing a sandwich, laughing at the things she said? How would you explain yourself?”
“It was strictly business,” Roman snapped. “We were discussing an article. And I didn’t pay for her lunch, just so you know.”
Mr. Kitt suddenly looked amused. Roman hated himself, especially when he remembered watching Iris reach for the coins in her purse at the deli. She almost hadn’t had enough, and she had chosen not to purchase a drink, as if she hadn’t wanted one.
He had paid for his sandwich, but not hers. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now he loathed himself for it.
Roman bit the inside of his cheek. Did his father also know that he had gone to Iris’s flat?
“I won’t see my grandchildren’s blood spoiled by the gutter,” Mr. Kitt said.
Then yes. He also knew about that visit, however brief it was, but Roman wouldn’t offer any explanations for it. Because no one had sent Roman but himself. Zeb Autry had been annoyed by Iris’s absence, and Sarah worried, but Roman was the one to grab her trench coat and look up her address and do something about it.
“Your prejudices are quite profound, Father,” he stated. “And you should stop having me followed.”
“I’ll call off my watch the moment you marry Miss Little,” Mr. Kitt countered. “And then you can sleep with whoever you want as long as you are discreet. You can sleep with your freckle-faced girl from the Gazette, but my one stipulation is you must not have pups with her. She’s far beneath you, son.”
“Enough, Father!” The words exploded from Roman. “I’m not marrying Miss Little, and your comments about my colleague are unfounded and uncalled-for!”
Mr. Kitt sighed. “I’m disappointed in you, Roman.”
Roman shut his eyes, suddenly drained. This conversation had taken a turn for the worse, and he didn’t know how to salvage it.
“Do you know what this is, son?” Mr. Kitt asked. Roman opened his eyes to see his father touching the crate. “This right here is our future. It’s going to save us in the war, because Dacre will one day reach us in Oath. And you breaking your commitment to Miss Little will jeopardize my plans to preserve our family.”
Roman stared at the crate. “What’s in it?”
Mr. Kitt lifted the lid. “Come take a look.”
Roman edged a few steps closer. Close enough so he could catch a glimpse of what rested within. Slender metal canisters the length of his forearm, resting like silver bullets in the crate.
“What are those?” he asked, frowning. “Are those bombs?”
His father only smiled and shut the lid. “Perhaps you should ask your fiancée. She helped her father create them.”
“This is evil,” Roman said, his voice wavering. “These bombs or whatever they are … you can’t return from something like this. They’re going to kill innocent people. I won’t—”
“No, this is ingenious,” Mr. Kitt interrupted. “All of the lords and ladies of Oath who are bowing to Enva … where do you think their titles will go when Dacre takes the city? Who do you think he will reward?”
Roman stared at his father, eyes wide in horror. “Is this all you care about? Where you stand among high society? How you can take advantage of others?” He began to step away, his breath hissing through his teeth. “I won’t be a part of this, Father.”
“You will do exactly what I tell you to do, Roman,” Mr. Kitt said. “Do you understand? If you won’t do it to save your own hide, then at least think of your mother, who is still grieving over your recklessness.”
Roman felt the blood drain from his face. The guilt over his sister’s death burned like acid in his mouth, and he lost all desire to fight, to speak.
“This is your duty, son,” his father said in a gentler voice. “I’m very proud of you for being promoted. You have a very bright future ahead of you. Don’t ruin it on a poor girl who no doubt wants to drain you of your inheritance.”
Roman turned and left.
He hardly remembered striding into his room. The door closed and locked behind him with a sigh of magic. Roman looked at his wardrobe, where the floor was bare. No letters waited for him. He expected there wouldn’t be any further correspondence with Iris from this point onward, since she had left to only the gods knew where. And he wasn’t sure if she had read his last letter or not, but he decided he could take no chances.
There was a loose floorboard beneath his desk. Roman knelt and gently worked it up, exposing a perfect hiding place. Once he had stashed candy and money and a home run baseball he had caught at a game and newspaper clippings here. Now, he took the shoebox full of Iris’s letters and he hid them, burying her words deep in the safety of darkness. He slid the floorboard back into place.
He couldn’t protect Del when she had needed him most, but he would try his best to protect Iris now.
Because he wasn’t sure how much his father truly knew about her. And Roman wasn’t about to let him discover anything more.