Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)

by Rebecca Ross

“If I tell you anything else today, you’ll grow tired of me.” “Impossible,” he whispered.

“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.”

But that was before, a time that was gilded by a different slant of light, and this present moment was now limned in the blue tinge of after.

How one could wake to a sunrise and die by sunset.

Because good things never lasted for long in her life.

“Gods, where was I before I interrupted myself?”

“Marry me, Iris Elizabeth Winnow,” Roman whispered, drawing back to look at her. “I want to spend all my days and all my nights with you. Marry me.”

“Yes.” Roman traced the corner of her mouth with his fingertip. “Let’s work together.”

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.”

he didn’t want to bring all this baggage into his marriage with Iris. But he didn’t know how to be free of it, and he realized she would simply have to take him as he was.

“I pray that my days will be long at your side. Let me fill and satisfy every longing in your soul. May your hand be in mine, by sun and by night. Let our breaths twine and our blood become one, until our bones return to dust. Even then, may I find your soul still sworn to mine.”

He would always be grateful for his decision that night, not so long ago. The night when he decided to write her back.

She settled beside him. His heat began to seep into her side, and she realized how brilliant this was going to be, sleeping next to him every night. She would never get cold again.

His breath escaped him, a tenuous unspooling, as if he had been holding it in years for her.

“It’ll be quite hard to get rid of me now, Kitt.” His laughter was beautiful in the dark.

She struggled to make sense of how one home was standing while its next-door neighbor was demolished.

She could never stay angry at him for long. “I just washed this dress!” “I know you did. It looks better off you anyways.”

And all she could think through her tears was He feels like a stranger to me now.

I never told you that I love you. And I regret that, most of all.

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 was “home,” and yet she felt like a stranger here. She felt like an entirely different person.

Dacre was quiet, watching the man crawl. What was he seeking? Why didn’t he just lie down and die?

Because Dacre suddenly realized with delight … this was no soldier, but a correspondent. And Dacre had never had one of those before.