“All right,” Iris said, straining her voice to speak over the constant clicking. “I—”
Before she could continue, Helena took hold of her arm and guided her out into the quieter hallway.
“What do you have for me, kid?” Helena asked.
“This is what I’m thinking.” Iris took a deep breath before continuing. “Dacre will be reading the Inkridden Tribune tomorrow, to see if I complied and got his announcement on the front page. I don’t think he’ll peruse the Gazette as well, but just in case, I think we should list a few addresses on the front page, like it’s a mere advertisement, and then have it continue on the second or third, ending with the statement that these are presumed buildings on ley lines, and can provide the best shelter during the bombing.”
Helena, unlit cigarette in her mouth, smiled. “I think that’s brilliant, kid.”
“Until Zeb Autry calls me in the morning and threatens to sue me,” Lawrence said gruffly. Iris hadn’t realized he had followed them into the hallway. “I know it won’t matter after noon, but how am I to answer for his paper getting an ‘advertisement’ he never agreed to?”
“It’s quite simple, actually.” Iris laced her fingers behind her back. “Tell him it’s courtesy of Inkridden Iris.”
{44}
Iron and Salt
It was almost dark when Iris walked to the closest tram stop to wait beneath the glow of a streetlamp. Helena had decided to stay at the printer through the night to assist Lawrence, dismissing Iris shortly after they had agreed what to do about the Gazette.
“Get home before nightfall, kid,” Helena had said, lighting her cigarette at last. “Your brother, I’m sure, is keen to see you.”
Iris hadn’t protested. She felt exhausted and battered now that the article was out of her hands. And she did need to get home—she wanted to see Forest—but then she remembered the sword, still hiding under Helena’s desk.
With a sigh, Iris began the brisk walk to the Inkridden Tribune. It wasn’t far from the print factory, and she thankfully made it to the office before the last editor left.
“Lock up behind you, will you, Winnow?” he asked, shrugging on his coat.
Iris sat at her desk as if she planned to work through the night, but she nodded. “Yes, of course. Goodnight, Frank.”
She waited until his footsteps faded away on the stairs before she rose and snatched a spare jacket from the rack. She hurried into Helena’s office, worried that the sword would be gone. But it was still there, just as they had left it.
Iris knelt and wrapped the scabbard and hilt in the jacket. It was the best way she could think of transporting the sword home without revealing what it was—gods, what would she do if the Graveyard caught her with it?—and she was about to rise to her feet, sword awkwardly in tow, when she heard footsteps again. They were growing louder. Someone was descending the stairs, approaching the Tribune.
Iris remained behind Helena’s desk. She hadn’t locked the door when Frank strode out, thinking no one would swing by since curfew had almost struck. But now she was stranded in Helena’s office, unsure who was coming.
She heard the main door open and close. Footsteps walking around the desks, almost hesitant, as if they were lost, or looking for something.
Iris held her breath as they drew closer to Helena’s office. Go away, she thought, thinking whoever it was couldn’t be here for anything good. But then she heard a muffled cough. Someone cleared their throat.
“Iris?”
The voice was familiar.
She shot to her feet, sword in her arms, and stared wide-eyed at the last person she had expected to see.
“Kitt?”
He nudged the office door open, the lamplight washing over her face.
“You hide under desks often, Winnow?” he drawled.
The mirth in his voice, the slight smile tugging on his lips, the way her last name sounded in his mouth. It was like they had fallen back in time, and it made Iris’s chest ache. She had to swallow a sob, and she couldn’t resist glaring at him.
“It suits me from time to time,” she countered, but then her voice dropped low. “What are you doing here?”
“I was making sure you were all right when you left my house. And that you made it home safely. I’ve been waiting outside the printer and was surprised when you made a detour.” Roman’s eyes fixated on the bundle she carried. “Do I want to know what that is?”
“I’m sure you will. But let me bring it out to the light. Here, to my desk, actually.” She walked past him, just shy of grazing his chest. But she heard his sharp inhale, and it made her pulse quicken.