Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)
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Read between June 23 - July 7, 2024
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She hated thinking about her broken promise to Forest.
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There were the Skywards—Enva’s family—and then the Underlings—Dacre’s family. They’ve always hated each other.
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“They’re called eithrals,” Sarah said. “We touched on them briefly in my mythology class, years ago.
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The Skywards, who had ruled Cambria from above, and the Underlings, who had reigned below. Once, there had been a hundred gods between the two families, their individual powers fanning across the firmament, land, and water. But over time they had killed each other, one by one, until only five remained. And those five had been overcome by humankind and given as spoils to the boroughs of Cambria. Dacre had been buried in the west, Enva in the east, Mir in the north, Alva in the south, and Luz in Central Borough. They were never to wake from their enchanted sleep; their graves were markers of ...more
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Roman was reading in bed when the paper arrived.
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She knew how to stir up feelings in a reader, which Roman found quite dangerous. If he wasn’t careful, she would beat him and win columnist.
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her hands, expressionless. “We’ve arranged a marriage between you and Miss Little,” Mr. Kitt announced. “This joining of our families will not only be beneficial in our next endeavor but will also be just as your mother described: a joyous occasion. For too long, we have been in mourning. It’s time to celebrate.”
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“She can be found in the last place you would think she’d be” was the reply he received.
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“I always thought the two of you would make such a striking pair. A few of the editors—not me, of course—cast bets that you would end up together.” “Me and Kitt?”
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“Is it possible to love a stranger?”
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But I realize that people are just people, and they carry their own set of fears, dreams, desires, pains, and mistakes.
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Not even for a moment would I trade my pain to erase Del’s life.
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“Kitt, this is the best article you’ve ever written. The position is yours. You’re reliable, industrious, and turn good pieces in on time. You’ll officially start first thing tomorrow.”
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Iris found one last smile to give her. “I’ll miss you too. Perhaps one day I’ll find you at a museum?”
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He no longer had to pretend he was too busy for sandwiches.
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“I’m not marrying her, Father.” The announcement rang in the air.
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He couldn’t protect Del when she had needed him most, but he would try his best to protect Iris now.
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“Two in one day,” Helena remarked, at last turning her face to Iris. “Whatever have they put in the water?”
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The waiver was filled with things like I agree to not hold the Inkridden Tribune responsible for anything which may befall me, including but not limited to: dismemberment, sickness, perforated and ruined organs, starvation, long-lasting disease of any kind, broken bones, and even death. I will take full responsibility for whatever happens to me—bodily and mentally and emotionally—while I am on the campaign to report.
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The legends claim the typewriters were constructed in a magical house on a magical street of Oath by a man with a magical monocle that could discern magical bonds—who soon vanished, by the way.
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Iris had an inkling. She said nothing, but her mind wandered to the letters that were hiding in her bag. Her heart quickened as she thought, It isn’t the wardrobes connecting us. It’s our typewriters.
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“Your contact is Marisol Torres.
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I’m Thea Attwood, by the way. But everyone calls me Attie.”
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don’t want to wake up when I’m seventy-four only to realize I haven’t lived.”
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“If a siren wails continuously during the night, you have exactly three minutes to extinguish all light, cover all windows, and lock yourself indoors before the hounds arrive.”
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“The second siren I want to tell you about,” Marisol continued, “is the one that wails continuously during the day. If you hear that one, you have exactly two minutes to take cover before the eithrals arrive.
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Which leads me to the third and last siren you may hear—the one that wails intermittently at any time.
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“If you hear this siren, you need to evacuate to the east, immediately. It means that our soldiers on the western front lines are retreating and have given up ground and cannot defend us here. It means that the enemy is coming and will most likely take the town.
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But I think there is a magical link between you and me. A bond that not even distance can break.
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All of this to say—it is never wise to offend a musician. And choose your lovers wisely.
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THE SECOND ALOUETTE / MADE ESPECIALLY FOR H.M.A. Which are my nan’s initials.
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“There is always a choice. Are you going to let your father write your story, or will you?”
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“Who’s Keegan?” “My wife.”
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“A saleswoman?” Iris asked. “Something like that.”
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Would you ever want to meet me? He replied, swiftly: YES.
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“Maybe. I just have this strange feeling Marisol is lying to us.”
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Elinor snorted. “You don’t have to pretend, Roman. I know you don’t want to marry me any more than I want to wed you. We can eat in silence, appease our parents, and then return to our separate lives.”
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INKRIDDEN IRIS
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“Is Keegan fighting in the war?” Marisol froze.
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The way you show up, day after day, even when you are weary or afraid or simply uncertain.
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Years ago, he taught me how to play the violin.” At once, Iris thought of the current restriction on stringed instruments in the city. All due to fear of Enva’s recruitment.
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Someone was walking toward Avalon Bluff through the long grass.
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A tall, broad-shouldered body dressed in a gray jumpsuit was striding through the grass. They carried a typewriter case in one hand, a leather bag in the other. There was a badge over their chest—another war correspondent, Iris realized.
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It was Roman Confounded Kitt.
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She felt his hands slide down her back, resting on the curve of her hips.
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Roman was the sort of person who thrived in competition. And he had come to Avalon Bluff to outshine her, once again.
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She thought of Carver, but she fell asleep to the metallic song of Roman Kitt’s typing.
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“I wanted to see if you would like to run with me,” he said.
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“For being a mere acquaintance and office rival, you seem to know a lot about me,” Iris mused, standing before him.
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“I personally like divine,” she said. “Although I’m not sure I would attribute that to the gods these days.”
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