“Worried I would stand you up, Kitt?” she asked, walking to him.
He smiled, but it could have passed for a wince in the shadows. “Not in the slightest.”
“What made you so confident?”
“You’re not one to let a challenge slip away, Winnow.”
“For being a mere acquaintance and office rival, you seem to know a lot about me,” Iris mused, standing before him.
Roman studied her. A few stars burned above them, extinguishing one by one as day broke. The first rays of sun illuminated the tree boughs overhead, the ivy and mossy stones of the B and B, and the flittering of birds. Light limned Iris’s arms and the length of her braid, Roman’s angular face and tousled dark hair.
It felt like she had woken in another world.
“I may have said you were a rival,” he countered. “But I never said you were an acquaintance.”
Before Iris could scrounge up a retort—was that a good thing or a bad thing?—Roman was striding to the gate, stepping onto the street.
“Tell me, Winnow,” he said. “Have you ever run a kilometer before?”
“No.” She began to keenly regret her decision to join him; she realized he was bound to run her ragged, to gloat with his stamina. She could already taste the dust he would kick up in her face, leaving her far behind. Perhaps this was some sort of twisted payback, for making him work to become columnist when the position would have been given to him on a silver platter if she hadn’t been at the Gazette. A column that he surrendered almost as swiftly as he had earned it, which continued to puzzle her.
“Good,” he said as she followed him through the gate. “We’ll start simple and work our way up every morning.”
“Every morning?” she cried.
“We need to be consistent if you want to make any sort of progress,” he said, beginning a brisk walk up the street. “Is there a problem with that?”
Iris sighed, keeping pace with him. “No. But if you’re a sorry coach, then don’t expect me to return tomorrow morning.”
“Fair enough.”
They walked for several minutes, Roman keeping an eye on his wristwatch. The silence was soft between them, the chilled morning air sharp as a blade down her throat. Soon, Iris felt her blood warm, and when Roman said it was time to run, she fell into a slow jog at his side.
“We’ll run for a minute, walk for two, and repeat that cycle until we need to return to Marisol’s,” he explained.
“Are you some sort of professional at this?” She couldn’t resist asking.
“I ran track at school, a few years back.”
Iris tried to imagine that—him dashing around a circular track in very short trousers. She laughed, partly embarrassed by her train of thought, which drew his attention.
“That’s hilarious to you?” he asked.
“No, but I’m wondering why you’re going so slow for me when you could run laps around this town.”
Roman checked his watch. She didn’t think he was going to respond until he said, “And now we walk.” He slowed, and she mirrored him. “I often run alone. But sometimes it’s nice to have company.” He looked at her. Iris quickly glanced away from him, distracting herself with details of the street.
They fell into a dance side by side, running for one minute, walking for two. At first, it felt easy to her, until they reached the hilly side of the bluff, and she suddenly felt like she might expire.
“Are you trying to kill me, Kitt?” she panted, struggling up the slope.
“Now, that would be a bestselling headline,” he said cheerfully, not at all winded. “INKRIDDEN IRIS AND THE HILL THAT BESTED HER.”
She smacked his arm, pressing a smile between her lips. “How much … longer … until we walk?”
He checked his watch. “Forty more seconds.” And he wouldn’t be Roman Kitt if he didn’t show off.
He turned to face her, running backward and slightly ahead, so he could keep his gaze on her as she labored up the hill.
“That’s it. You’re doing great, Winnow.”
“Shut up, Kitt.”
“Absolutely. Whatever you want.”
She glared at him—the flush of his cheeks, the mirth in his eyes. He was quite distracting, and she panted, “Are you trying … to tempt me to … press onward, like you’re some … metaphorical carrot?”
He laughed. The sound went through her like static, down to her toes. “If only I were. Do we need to stop?”
Yes. “No.”
“Good. You have twenty more seconds. Deep breaths through your belly, Winnow. Not your chest.”
She bared her teeth against the discomfort and strove to breathe as he had instructed. It was difficult when her lungs were heaving beyond her control. I am not doing this torture tomorrow, she thought over and over. A chant to carry her up the rest of the hill. I am not—
“Tell me what you think of this place,” he said, not two seconds later. “Do you like Avalon Bluff?”
“I can’t run and chat, Kitt!”
“When I’m done training you, you’ll be able to.”
“Who says … I’m doing this … tomorrow?” Gods, she felt like she was about to die.
“This does,” he said, at last turning around to lead her the rest of the way up the hill.
“Your backside?” she growled, helplessly studying it.
“No, Winnow,” he tossed over his shoulder. “This view.” He came to a stop on the crest of the hill.
Iris watched the sun gild his body. The light hit her two breaths later, when she reached the top at his side. Hands on her knees, she fought to calm her heart, sweat dripping down her back. But when she could stand upright, she reveled in the view. The fog was melting in the valleys. A river meandered through a field. The dew glittered like gemstones on the grass. The land seemed to roll on and on forever, idyllic as a dream, and Iris shielded her eyes, wondering where the road would take them if they kept running.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. And how strange to know this view had been here all along, and she had failed to see it.
Roman was quiet at her side, and they stood like that for a few moments. Soon, her heart was steady and her lungs calm. Her legs felt a bit shaky, and she knew she’d be sore tomorrow.
“Winnow?” he said, glancing at his watch with a frown.
“What’s wrong, Kitt?”
“We have exactly five minutes to get back to Marisol’s.”
“What?”
“We’ll have to run the whole way to make it by eight, but it’s mostly downhill.”
“Kitt!”
He began to jog the route they had come, and Iris had no choice but to chase after him, ankles sore as her boots hit the cobblestones.
Oh, she was going to kill him.
They were late by seven minutes.
{28}
A Divine Rival
Dear Iris,
Last night, I had a dream. I was standing in the middle of Broad Street in Oath, and it was raining. You walked past me; I knew it was you the moment your shoulder brushed mine. But when I tried to call your name, no sound emerged. When I hurried to follow you, you quickened your steps. Soon, the rain fell harder, and you slipped away from me.