Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)

by Rebecca Ross

“I’m sure I’ll need the spare hangers, since—as you well know—I keep up with all the current fashion trends,” Iris countered wryly, hoping Forest couldn’t hear the sadness in her voice.

Iris stood amidst the hum, her gaze flickering to Roman’s desk.

“Has anyone ever told you that you squint when you lie?” His scowl only deepened. “No, but only because no one has spent as much time looking at me as you do, Winnow.”

“Roman Cheeky Kitt?” Iris had guessed. “Or maybe Roman Churlish Kitt?” His amusement dimmed. He didn’t like to be made fun of, and Iris’s grin broadened as she leaned back in her chair. “Or perhaps it’s Roman Cantankerous Kitt?”

“If you have a problem with it, then go speak to Autry yourself,” she said, just as the doors yawned. “Although I don’t know why you’re so worried. In case you need to be reminded … ‘She’ll give me no competition. None at all. She dropped out of Windy Grove School in her final year.’”

Roman was reading in bed when the paper arrived.

“Stop thinking about her!” he hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Congratulations, Kitt,” said Iris. Roman startled. The tea spewed from his mouth as he coughed, and then those blue eyes of his cut upward to where she stood, pinning her with a furious gleam. She watched as that anger burned away into shock. His gaze traced her long, wild hair. Down her body, although she was wearing her typical drab raiment. And then back up to her cherry-red mouth.

“Never mind,” she said with a wave of her hand. “That’s rude of me to ask. I would never show you my notes either.” He wordlessly reached into his bag and handed her his notepad.

“Yes,” she whispered before she collapsed, into the embrace of darkness.

Roman nodded, but his eyes narrowed as he intently studied her, like he sensed her lie. “Can I get you anything else? Are you hungry? Should I fetch a sandwich or soup or whatever else you’d like?”

He was still standing there, hands shoved into his coat pockets, his dark hair windblown. Waiting. Her annoyance flared until she bolted the door. As soon as he heard the locks slide, Roman Kitt turned and left.

You are not alone.

to whoever else needs to hear this, you are not alone 🫶🏼🫶🏼.

“Don’t go, Iris,” he said.

STOPPP, I LOVE SARAH SM 😭🫶🏼

I miss him.

STOOOPPP OMG MY BABIES 🥹🫶🏼

“I don’t want to wake up when I’m seventy-four only to realize I haven’t lived.”

I wish people realized this fact, relized how deep it was and actually tried to impllement it 😕🫶🏼

“Twenty,” Attie replied. “By law, we’re both legal adults who can drink and be formerly charged for murder, so Helena’s safe for now.”

SIX HUNDRED KILOMETERS FROM OATH?!!! Answer me, and I’ll do my best to find the other half of the myth: Did you go to war? And before you ask, yes. I’m relieved to discover more paper of yours on my floor. P.S.—Forgive my lack of manners. How are you these days?

P.S. You truly don’t have wings? I’m shocked.

P.S. I most certainly don’t have wings.

but you can call me Carver.

He was thinking about her far too much, and he knew this was going to doom him.

“But we really didn’t know each other all that well,” Iris rambled on, as if that mattered. And why was Marisol pressing her lips together, as if she were concealing a smile?

She thought of Carver, but she fell asleep to the metallic song of Roman Kitt’s typing.

“Yes. I like to run several kilometers every morning.” He shoveled a spoonful of sugar into his tea. “Why? Is that acceptable to you, Winnow?” “It is, so long as we don’t expire from hunger waiting for you every sunrise,” Iris quipped, and she thought she saw a smile tease his lips, but perhaps she imagined it.

“Are you trying to kill me, Kitt?” she panted, struggling up the slope. “Now, that would be a bestselling headline,” he said cheerfully, not at all winded. “INKRIDDEN IRIS AND THE HILL THAT BESTED HER.”

“That’s it. You’re doing great, Winnow.” “Shut up, Kitt.” “Absolutely. Whatever you want.”

“Captain?” he said. “If she goes, I would like to go with her, sir.” The captain spun to look at him, brow cocked. “I said I only have one seat in the lorry.” “Then I’ll ride on the side step, sir,” Roman said.

Your rival? Who is this bloke? If he’s competing with you, then he must be an utter fool. I have no doubt you will best him in every way.

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

Especially when she heard him groan after a particularly deep set of ruts in the road, which seemed to knock their thoughts sideways. “Am I hurting you?” Iris asked him. “No.” “Are you squinting, Kitt?” she teased.

Let me guess: he’s pouring his heart out onto the page, claiming how inadequate he feels because what he truly craves is affirmation from you. And he probably threw something in there about his family: a mum or his sister or his nan. Because he knows you’ll melt at the thought of the other women in his life, the ones who have shaped him. And if he knows you well enough … then he’ll mention something about books or newspaper articles, because surely by now he knows your writing is exquisite, and above all he knows that he doesn’t deserve you and your words and he never will.

“More?” she breathed, and while her hand felt hot as kindling, she didn’t pull away from him. “If I tell you anything else today, you’ll grow tired of me.” “Impossible,” he whispered.

Roman smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And whatever could it be? Iris Enchanting Winnow? Iris Ethereal Winnow? Iris Exquisite Winnow?”

“I suppose you’ll have to ask me and find out,” she said. And just when she thought she couldn’t be surprised by anything else, Roman began to kneel. Right there in the center of the street, halfway up the hill. He was about to ask her. He was truly about to ask her to be his wife, and Iris gasped.

Your Kitt

idk what oxygon is <33

“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.” Iris, heart full of fire, framed his face with her hands. She had never been this close to someone, but she felt safe with Roman. And she had not felt such safety in a long time. “Iris … Iris, say something,” he begged. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Roman Carver Kitt.”

YESYESYESYESYESYES

“See something you like?” he asked, not missing a beat. His gaze remained on his paper, his fingertips flying over the keys. Iris frowned. “You’re distracting me, Kitt.” “I’m pleased to hear it. Now you know how I’ve felt all this bloody time, Iris.”

Iris bit her lip, wondering what she should ask for. “Are you sure about that, Kitt? What if I want you to wash my laundry for the rest of the war? What if I want you to massage my feet every night? What if I want you to make me a cup of tea every hour?” “I can do all of that and more if you like,” he said, deadly serious. “Simply tell me what you want.”

“Why would you say that?” Roman replied, his voice gentle but urgent. “Do you think we could live in a world made only of those things? Death and pain and horror? Loss and agony? 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 met Attie’s gaze. “Are you telling me…” Attie smiled, tugging on her hand. “I’m telling you that Roman Carver Kitt is in the garden, waiting to marry you.”

Iris blushed when Roman held up his hand. “I’m the lucky one.”

“I have a request, Winnow.” “Gods, Kitt,” she said before she could stop herself. “What now?”

She whispered, “I want to touch you.” “Now that wasn’t in the letter,” he said wryly. “I would have framed it on the wall had it been.”

“Tomorrow,” Roman said, lacing his fingers with hers, “I want your hand to be in mine, no matter what comes. Just like this. We have to stay together, Iris.” “Don’t worry,” she said. Little did he know she had already planned this. To stay close to him. To be ready to support his weight all the way to the lorry if he needed her. To keep him alive. She opened her eyes to the night and drolly said, “It’ll be quite hard to get rid of me now, Kitt.” His laughter was beautiful in the dark.

Iris! Iris, it’s me, Kitt.