“Forest.” She took hold of his sleeve, stopping him on the pavement before their building. “I need to tell you something.”
He waited, his eyes on her face.
It began to rain softly. Mist beaded in their hair, gathered on their shoulders. It was eventide, and the lamps began to flicker to life.
“Mum’s not here,” Iris said.
“Where is she?”
“She passed away, weeks ago. It’s why I left Oath. It’s why I became a correspondent. There was nothing left for me here.”
Forest was silent. Iris dared to glance at his face. She was terrified she would find blame in his eyes, but her brother only sighed and pulled her close. She was stiff until his arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in a warm embrace. His chin rested on her head and they stood entwined as the last of the light dwindled.
“Come on,” he said, relinquishing her when he felt her shiver. “Let’s go home.”
Iris found the spare key, hidden behind a loose stone in the lintel. She was reluctant to step into the flat’s empty darkness first. She gave that honor to Forest, who instantly reached for the light switch.
“The electricity’s off,” he mumbled.
“There are a few candles on the sideboard. To your left,” Iris said, closing the door behind them.
Her brother fumbled in the dark, finding the matches from one of the dash-packs. He struck a flame and lit a host of candles. The light was weak, but it was enough.
Iris glanced around the room.
The flat was just as she remembered, only dustier. More cobwebs hung in the corners, and it smelled musty and sad, like spoiled paper and drenched wool and decaying memories.
The box with her mother’s belongings still sat on the tea table. Forest noticed, but he didn’t touch it and he said nothing as he collapsed on the sofa with a groan.
Iris remained standing, feeling strangely out of place.
“Do you want to sit down?” Forest asked.
She took that as an invitation to finally talk, and she gingerly crossed the room, sitting beside him.
The silence was awkward. Iris cracked her knuckles, wondering what she should say. Her hands were still covered in small lacerations, from when she had crawled through the rubble of Avalon Bluff, the grass of the field. She stared at the silver ring on her finger. In some terrible way, it felt as if Roman was nothing more than a feverish dream. This ring was the only proof she had, the one tangible thing to whisper to her, Yes, it happened, and he loved you.
Forest thankfully broke the quiet.
“I found the locket in the trenches,” he began. “I was with Dacre’s forces. We were driving forward, and I nearly passed over it. The gleam of gold caught my eye at the last minute, and I stopped, to see what it was.” He paused, pulling a loose thread from his sleeve. “As soon as I recognized it, I knew you had been wearing it, Iris. It devastated me in a way I can’t describe. And I was determined that I would find you and we would both escape the war. I was … I was so tired and exhausted. It took everything within me to break away from Dacre’s command. If not for the locket, I don’t think I could have done it.”
Iris was quiet. She watched her brother closely in the candlelight. The emotion he had been burying for days was stirring. She could hear it in his voice, see it in the deep lines of his brow.
“I made it my mission to find you,” Forest continued in a hushed tone. “It was surprisingly easy. After I deserted, I fled to Avalon Bluff. I caught wind that correspondents resided there and that’s when it hit me. You weren’t fighting as a soldier, but as a reporter. But I couldn’t simply walk up to you and announce myself. I knew I would have to wait and bide my time. That I would most likely have to wait until things got bad, when Dacre tried to take the town. And so that’s what I did. I lived on the outskirts, but I kept watch over you. I saw you that afternoon, in the garden with Kitt.”
Iris flushed. Her brother had seen her on Roman’s lap, kissing him. She had no idea what she thought about it.
“I know he means a great deal to you, Iris,” Forest whispered. “And I’m sorry, Little Flower. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him as I saved you. But I need you to understand that it took every fiber within me to desert, to defy Dacre’s command. It took everything within me to run to safety with you.”
He met her gaze. Iris glanced away, unable to withstand the pain in his eyes.
“It wasn’t your choice to fight for Dacre?” she asked.
“No.”
“I … I still don’t understand, Forest. I received news that you had been wounded, but evacuated in time. That you were fighting with another company of Enva’s.”
“Part of that is true,” Forest replied. “I was wounded at Lucia River, so badly that I was supposed to die in the Meriah infirmary. I held on for days, but was too weak to be evacuated, and when Dacre came to take Meriah … he healed me before I died. He held me by the debt of my life, and I had no choice but to fight for him.”
The words chilled her. They suddenly spun strange thoughts in her mind. Images of Roman, wounded. Struggling to breathe in the cloud of gas that had swarmed him in the field. Would she rather him dead or taken by the enemy?
“I’ve done things, Iris,” Forest continued, bringing her back to the present. “I’ve done things that I can barely live with. And I know you may want to leave me. I can see it in your eyes; you want to find Kitt and your other friends. But I need you. I’m asking you to stay here with me, where it’s safe.”
She nodded, even though her heart was sinking. “I won’t leave you, Forest.”
He closed his eyes, relieved.
He looked like he had aged an entire decade. She caught a fleeting glimpse of him as an old man, worn and weathered and somber.
“Get some sleep, brother,” she said. “We can talk more tomorrow.”
She rose and left Forest on the sofa. The very place he had once slept before the war, when he was a horologist’s apprentice with bright eyes and a quick laugh and bear hugs that always made Iris feel better after a hard day.
She took a candle and retreated to her bedroom, leaning against the door for a moment. She had to drop these fears about Roman, captured. Roman, dead. Roman, suffering. She had to have faith, and she needed to sleep. She needed her mind sharp and her body rested so she could forge a new plan to find her way to him.
She soaked in the forlorn truth that she was back where she started. She was “home,” and yet she felt like a stranger here. She felt like an entirely different person. Iris shut her eyes, listening to the rain tap on the window.
Slowly, she took in her old room.
The blankets on her bed were wrinkled. Books were strewn over her desk, which was draped with gossamer. Her wardrobe door was open, revealing a glimpse of the clothes she had left behind.
And there, on the floor, was a piece of paper.
Iris froze, staring at it.
She had left it there, untouched. She had chosen not to read it months ago, fearing Carver would alter the course she was determined to take.
She walked to the folded paper. She bent down and picked it up from the floor, carrying it to her bed. She set the candle aside, the light flickering around her.
Iris stared at the paper, nearly holding it over the flame to burn. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to open it. She worried it would break the last of her, to read his words now.