She walked to the side of his pallet, her shadow spilling across his lean body. “Will you look at me, Kitt?”
He didn’t move. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to visit me. I know you hate me right now.”
“Obligated?”
“By Attie. I know she told you to come. It’s all right; you can return to whatever important task you were busy with.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to see you,” Iris said, and her chest tightened, as if a thread was wound about each of her ribs. “In fact, I came to ask you a question.”
He was quiet, but she could hear the curiosity in his voice as he said, “Go on, then.”
“Would you like to go on a walk with me?”
Roman’s hands slid away from his disbelieving face. “A walk?”
“Erm, maybe not a walk, exactly. If your leg … if you don’t feel like it. But we could go outside.”
“Where to?”
Now that his eyes had locked with hers, Iris felt seen, down to her bones. She could hardly breathe and she glanced at her dirty fingernails. “I was thinking we could go to our hill.”
“Our hill?”
“Or your hill,” she rushed to amend. “The hill that nearly bested me. Unless you think it’s destined to get the best of you now. If so, I think it can make the headlines by tomorrow.”
Roman was quiet, staring up at her. Iris couldn’t deny it a moment longer. She met his gaze and tentatively smiled, extending her hands to him.
“Come on, Kitt. Come outside with me. The sun and fresh air will do you good.”
Slowly, he lifted his fingers and wove them with hers—fingers that had typed letter after letter to her. And she raised him to his feet.
* * *
He was insistent on walking, and he used a crutch to avoid putting weight on his right leg. At first he moved with a strong rhythm, swinging himself forward. But then he began to tire, and their pace slowed. Fifteen minutes down the cobbled street, perspiration shone on Roman’s face from the heat and the effort. Iris instantly wished she had thought better of her offer.
“We don’t have to go all the way to the hill,” she said, glancing sidelong at him. “We can turn around halfway.”
He huffed a smile. “I’m not going to break, Winnow.”
“Yes, but your leg is still—”
“My leg is fine. I’d like to see the view again, anyways.”
She nodded but fiddled with the end of her braid, anxious about overworking him.
They turned onto the street that would gradually build to the crest. For the first time since she had met him, Iris didn’t know what to say. In the office at the Gazette, she always had a retort ready for him. Even when she was writing to him as Carver, the words had spilled out of her onto the page. But now she felt uncommonly shy, and the words were like honey on her tongue. She desperately wanted to say the right things to him.
Iris waited for him to speak, hoping perhaps he would break this strange silence between them, but his breaths became labored as the street steepened. She dwelled on that last letter of his, and suddenly Iris knew exactly what to say to Roman Carver Kitt.
She turned to face him, walking backward. He noticed, giving her an arched brow.
“Salty,” she said.
He chuckled, glancing down to the cobblestones as he crutched forward. “I know, I’m sweating.”
“No,” Iris said, drawing his eyes back to hers. “I prefer salty over sweet. I prefer sunsets over sunrises, but only because I love to watch the constellations begin to burn. My favorite season is autumn, because my mum and I both believed that’s the only time when magic can be tasted in the air. I am a devout tea lover and can drink my weight in it.”
A smile flickered over Roman’s face. She was answering the questions he had asked in his last letter to her.
“Now,” she said. “Tell me yours.”
“I have the worst sweet tooth imaginable,” Roman began. “I prefer sunrises, but only because I like the possibilities a new dawn brings. My favorite season is spring, because baseball returns. I prefer coffee, although I’ll drink whatever is placed in front of me.”
Iris grinned. Laughter slipped out of her, and she hurried to continue walking ahead of him, just out of his reach should he try to grab her. Because he had a hungry gleam in his eye, as if she were indeed a metaphorical carrot.
“You find my answers surprising, Winnow?”
“Not really, Kitt. I always knew you were my opposite. A nemesis usually is.”
“I prefer former rival.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “Tell me something more about you.”
“More? Such as what?”
“Anything.”
“Very well. I had a pet snail when I was seven.”
“A snail?”
Iris nodded. “His name was Morgie. I kept him in a serving dish with a little tray of water and some rocks and a few wilted flowers. I told him all of my secrets.”
“And whatever happened to Morgie?”
“He slinked away one day when I was at school. I came home to discover him gone, and he was nowhere to be found. I cried for a fortnight.”
“I can imagine that was devastating,” Roman said, at which Iris playfully batted him.
“Don’t poke fun at me, Kitt.”
“I’m not, Iris.” He effortlessly caught her hand in his, and they both came to a halt in the middle of the street. “Tell me more.”
“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.
She felt that shyness creeping over her again. What was happening right now, and why did it feel like wings were beating in her stomach?
“What’s your middle name?” Roman asked suddenly.
Iris arched her brow, amused. “You might have to earn that morsel of information.”
“Oh, come now. Could you at least give me the initial? It would only be fair.”
“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” she said. “My middle name begins with an E.”
Roman smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And whatever could it be? Iris Enchanting Winnow? Iris Ethereal Winnow? Iris Exquisite Winnow?”
“My gods, Kitt,” she said, blushing. “Let me save us both from this torture. It’s Elizabeth.”
“Iris Elizabeth Winnow,” Roman echoed, and she shivered to hear her name in his mouth.
Iris held his stare until the mirth faded from his eyes. He was looking at her the way he had in Zeb’s office. As if he could see all of her, and Iris swallowed, telling her heart to calm, to slow.
“I need to say something to you,” Roman said, tracing her knuckles with his thumb. “You mentioned the other day that you think I’m only here to ‘outshine’ you. But that’s the furthest thing from the truth. I broke my engagement, quit my job, and traveled six hundred kilometers into war-torn land to be with you, Iris.”
Iris squirmed. This didn’t feel real. The way he was looking at her, holding her hand. This must be a dream on the verge of dashing. “Kitt, I—”
“Please, let me finish.”