“Gods, no. I was only thinking how strange it is. To think how many people we cross paths with in our lives. How someone like me has found someone like you. And if I had never written that essay and sent it to the Gazette on a whim … would we still be here?”
“Are you getting philosophical on me, Iris?”
“I can’t seem to help it. You bring out the very best and the very worst in me.”
“I certainly bring out the best. But the worst?”
She only held his stare, water dripping from her jaw like tears. But then she caressed his hair again, a soft touch that he felt down to his toes. It wasn’t power or fear or magic that cleaved his heart open but her hand, gentle with adoration.
“And the answer is yes, by the way,” he said, kissing the curve of her knee. “I would have still found you, even if you had never written that essay.”
* * *
The hot water went out three minutes later.
Roman grappled with the lever, shutting off the valve as frigid water sluiced over them. Iris gasped, but he didn’t know if it was from the shock of cold or from the way he stood and took her in his arms, carrying her from the shower.
This wasn’t what he had envisioned for the night, but when Iris wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him, Roman decided that, for the first time in his life, he preferred to live in the moment.
He walked her to the bed and laid her down. His breaths were ragged; water dripped like rain down his back. But the sight of her chased away the lingering cold.
The way Iris gazed up at him, her eyes dark as new moons, drawing him in like the tides. The way she held to him, whispering his name against his throat. How she moved with him, in the light as well as in the darkness. The feel of her skin against his; the sensation of being bare and yet whole. Safe and complete.
She saw him as he saw her. With eyes open, with eyes shut.
As the stars faithfully burned beyond the window, Roman had never been more certain.
He could wake in the deepest region of Dacre’s realm, as far from the moon and sun as divinity could shackle him. He could wake and not know his name, forgetting every word he had ever written. But he would never forget the scent of Iris’s skin, the sound of her voice. The way she had looked at him. The confidence of her hands.
And he thought, There is no magic above or below that will ever steal this from me again.
{36}
Guests, Indefinitely
Iris dreamt of the Revel Diner. She sat at the bar with a book and a glass of lemonade before her, watching as her mother waited on tables. It felt like any other day, a page torn from her past, for she had often visited the diner before the war. Before Aster had started to drink heavily. That was how Iris knew she was dreaming. Her mother looked vibrant and whole again, quick to smile and laugh, her eyes bright as she moved around the café.
“Another lemonade, Iris?” Aster said as she returned behind the bar.
Before Iris could reply, a song crackled over the radio, filling the café with the melancholy tone of a violin. At once, the hair rose on her arms. There it was again. The melody that haunted her dreams when she saw her mother.
“Mum?” Iris whispered, leaning over the bar. “Why do I hear this song every time we meet in a dream?”
Aster set down a steaming coffeepot. “Do you know who Alzane was?”
Iris was startled by the abrupt change in topics, but said, “He was one of the last kings of Cambria, before the monarchy fell and chancellors were appointed.”
“Yes, but there is far more to him than that. He was the monarch who oversaw the divine graves. He buried Dacre, Mir, Alva, Luz, and Enva centuries ago. In a myth that has been cut away from our history, he inspired this lullaby to sing the gods to sleep. Since then, there have been many iterations of it, but the power of the notes remains, even if they have been forgotten by many.”
Iris mulled that over. The world beyond the café windows was beginning to darken. A storm was brewing. Rain slid down the glass, and flickers of lightning illuminated distant buildings.
“I don’t think Enva was ever buried,” Iris dared to say, to which Aster quirked her red-stained lips to the side. “I think she struck a deal with the king, and she sang the other four to sleep while she remained hidden in Oath.”
“A wild theory, sweetheart. But one that may have some truth within it.”
Iris listened to the music, but her breath caught when the radio’s static intensified and the dream began to break. Desperate, she reached out to take hold of Aster, but her mother had already faded into the shadows. The café began to spin, the glass windows cracking beneath the weight of the storm, until the pressure felt unbearable.