Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)

by Rebecca Ross

ensorcelled

there’s also a small voice in the back of my mind, a voice that tells me, “You will miss so much by being so guarded.”

For a breath, Iris couldn’t move. And whatever mask he had been wearing for everyone else—the smile and the merry eyes and the flushed cheeks—faded until she saw how exhausted and sad he was. It struck a chord within her, music that she could feel deep in her bones, and she broke their stare first.

she knows

“Winnow? Winnow, are you there?” Roman Kitt was at her flat, knocking on her door.

“Winnow?” he said, taking a step closer, as if he felt the tug of her movements. “You’re all right?” “I’m fine, Kitt,”

I love this trope

I loved her fiercely.

My favorite phrase

You will learn to live outside of it again, as impossible as that may sound. Others who share your pain will also help you heal. Because you are not alone. Not in your fear or your grief or your hopes or your dreams. You are not alone.

But she knew the moment Roman walked into the office. She knew it like a cord was bound between the two of them,

Invisible string

I have nothing. I have nothing. I have nothing. I have nothing. I have nothing.

Poor baby

His eyes were keen, as if he could see everything that dwelled in her—the light and the shadows. Her threads of ambition and desire and joy and grief. Never had a man looked at her in that way.

Which only made Attie laugh, and gods, if she didn’t have a contagious one, just like Roman Kitt.

A bond that not even distance can break.

Are you safe? Are you well? What happened? Please write to me, whenever you can.

Cries

He drank his lukewarm tea and listened, and he began to see the invisible threads that drew him to Iris.

He was late to work.

I’ll be here, waiting for whenever you’re ready to see me.

You don’t deserve to be happy or loved. “As you want, then,” he said.

I don’t think you realize how strong you are, because sometimes strength isn’t swords and steel and fire, as we are so often made to believe. Sometimes it’s found in quiet, gentle places. The way you hold someone’s hand as they grieve. The way you listen to others. The way you show up, day after day, even when you are weary or afraid or simply uncertain.

“Shut up, Kitt.” “Absolutely. Whatever you want.”

That fire in her eyes could have brought him to his knees, and he loathed the façade he was wearing.

Iris was fuming as she slipped into her room. She didn’t want Roman going to the front. She wanted him here, where he would be safe.

She unfortunately had to sit on Roman Kitt’s lap, nearly all the way to the front lines.

“I don’t mind sharing the seat. That is, if you don’t mind me sitting on your—” “I don’t mind,” he said.

whipped

Because that was all that really mattered to him. The things in his bag and Iris, sitting across from him.

She has to survive this, Roman thought. He didn’t want to live in a world without her and her words.

She couldn’t bear to live in a world without him.

“I don’t think…” he began, half a whisper, half a moan. “You should take my bag and go. Leave me here.” “Like hell I am!” she shouted. Everything within her was fracturing under the weight of her fear.

but in that split second of desperation, she clearly beheld what she wanted. She and Roman would survive this war. They would have the chance to grow old together, year by year. They would be friends until they both finally acknowledged the truth. And they would have everything that other couples had—the arguments and the hand-holding in the market and the gradual exploration of their bodies and the birthday celebrations and the journeys to new cities and the living as one and sharing a bed and the gradual sense of melting into each other.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered, and his hand flailed, reaching for her. “You and I … we need to stay together. We’re better this way.”

A transcendent connection. A divine threshold.

I am so afraid. And yet how I long to be vulnerable and brave when it comes to my own heart.

“But the moment you walked away,” Roman rushed on, “I knew I felt something for you, which I had been denying for weeks. The moment you wrote me and said you were six hundred kilometers away from Oath … I thought my heart had stopped. To know that you would still want to write to me, but also that you were so far away. And as our letters progressed, I finally acknowledged that I was in love with you, and I wanted you to know who I was. That’s when I decided I would follow you. I didn’t want the life my father had planned for me—a life where I could never be with you.”

She reminded herself that even though she had been left, time and time again, by the people she loved, Roman had come to her. He was choosing her.

Your Kitt

“Read to me, Roman.”

It’s not a crime to feel joy, even when things seem hopeless. Iris, look at me. You deserve all the happiness in the world. And I intend to see that you have it.”

“Iris,” said Roman, “you are worthy of love. You are worthy to feel joy right now, even in the darkness. And just in case you’re wondering … I’m not going anywhere, unless you tell me to leave, and even then, we might need to negotiate.”