Lucy, who Iris had come to learn was the direct opposite of Marisol, poured milk into everyone’s goblets before she settled at the head of the table. She was tall, fair-headed, with freckled skin and shrewd gray eyes. She seemed to wear a perpetual frown, but Marisol had warned Iris that her sister was reserved and wary to trust strangers. To earn a cup of tea from her was a sign that one had earned her friendship and respect.
“I love this song,” Attie said, tilting her head toward the radio.
It was a melancholy score, made even more so because parts of it were missing. Iris knew only because she had heard this song before. The strings were culled from it, all due to the recent ban in the city. The law had been the chancellor’s way of curbing Enva’s magical abilities with her harp, but Iris considered it a restriction built on fear. Fear of losing control and power. Fear of watching the truth about the war and what was to come spread across Oath.
“G.W. Winters,” Lucy said, snapping wrinkles from her napkin. “One of the greatest composers of our time.”
“You know of her?” Attie asked.
“I do. I attended a few of her concerts back in the day when I lived in Oath. Marisol accompanied me once.”
“That was a night to remember,” Marisol said. “Everything that could have gone wrong did.”
“Save for the music,” Lucy countered.
“We’re lucky to be alive.”
“A touch dramatic, wouldn’t you say, little sister?”
Marisol glared, but she couldn’t maintain the facade for long. Her lips betrayed her with a smile, and then she laughed.
“I think this is a story that should be shared,” Iris said, glancing between the sisters.
“Only if I can tell it.” Lucy held up her goblet of milk.
“Fine,” Marisol sighed, but she sounded amused. “I get two interjections, though.”
“Deal.”
Their banter was interrupted by a startling trio of beeps on the radio.
Iris turned to look at it, a chilled silence settling over the table.
“We interrupt tonight’s broadcast to share an important message from Chancellor Verlice,” a monotone voice said through the box. “All visitors to Oath must register their presence in the city, as well as that of their family members, with the Commonwealth Ministry. Please bring a form of identification as well as all pertaining relatives to be photographed for our records. Thank you for your attention and cooperation, and tonight’s broadcast will now continue.”
The music resumed—woodwinds and brass and percussion—but no one moved. Iris released a shaky exhale, her appetite gone. She glanced around the table, noticing the deep furrow in Lucy’s brow, the tense posture of Marisol’s shoulders. Attie looked troubled, and Tobias was scowling.
“By visitors they mean refugees,” Marisol said. “People fleeing to escape the war.”
“Have there been many refugees coming to River Down?” Iris asked.
“We’ve had a few families arrive over the past week,” Lucy replied. “But I imagine that number will only increase when Dacre begins to march. We’re prepared to help house and feed as many people as we can.”
“Last we heard, Dacre was sitting on Avalon Bluff,” Attie said. “Like a hen on a nest. Biding his time for reasons we can only dread.”
“Keegan wrote to me not long ago,” Marisol said. “She said Enva’s forces have retreated to Hawk Shire but she expects they’ll be marching farther east soon. Scouts have reported that Dacre has recovered enough soldiers now to make his next assault. She told me to prepare for things to turn quickly, even here, deep in the east. I don’t think you should mention this in your articles, Iris and Attie, and I don’t want to scare you, but Keegan said she doesn’t think her forces can hold Dacre off again if he makes a hard press for Oath. His army has grown considerably, and he’s been able to take these small towns of the boroughs with terrible ease.”
Iris was quiet as she met Attie’s gaze.
“How far does Helena have you three traveling?” Lucy asked.
When the girls hesitated, Tobias replied, “She asked me to drive them no further than Winthrop.”
“Winthrop!” Marisol cried. “That’s far too close to the front, especially if something happens overnight. Winthrop is just a stone’s throw from Hawk Shire.”
“Mari,” Lucy said.
“No, Luce! I have some choice words for Helena, and I’m not going to sit back and swallow them this time. Like I’ve done all the times before!”