She blinked away her tears, hoping Roman couldn’t see them. She cleared her throat and said, “That seems like quite a bit of trouble, doesn’t 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.”
She nodded. She needed to trust him. She had doubted him before, and he had proven her wrong. Again and again.
Iris gave him a hint of a smile. Her chest felt heavy, but she wanted this. She wanted to be with him.
“A cup of tea,” she said. “That’s my fee for today.”
Roman returned her smile, rising from the table. “A cup every hour, I suppose?”
“That depends on how proficient you are at brewing tea.”
“Challenge accepted, Winnow.”
She watched him limp to the cooker, filling the kettle at the faucet. He didn’t like to use his crutch in the house, but it looked like he still needed it. She held her tongue, admiring the way the light limned him and the graceful movement of his hands.
Roman was just pouring her a cup of perfectly brewed tea when the siren sounded. Iris stiffened, listening as the distant wail rose and fell, rose and fell. Over and over, like a creature in the throes of death.
“Eithrals?” Roman asked, setting the kettle down with a clang.
“No,” Iris said, standing. Her gaze was on the garden, on the breeze that raked over it. “No, this is the evacuate siren.”
She had never heard it before, but she had often thought of it happening. Her feet froze to the floor as the siren continued to wail.
“Iris?” Roman’s voice brought her back into the moment. He was standing beside her, intently watching her face.
“Kitt.” She reached for his hand as the floor began to shake beneath her. She wondered if it was the aftershocks of a distant bomb, but the rumbling only intensified, as if something was drawing closer.
There was a loud pop, and Iris instantly cowered, teeth clenched. Roman pulled her back up, holding her against his chest. His voice was warm in her hair as he whispered, “It’s just a lorry. It’s just backfire. We’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”
She closed her eyes, but she listened to the beat of his heart and the sounds encircling them. He was right; the rumbling she felt was from a lorry driving by the house. The icy sweat still prickled on her palms and at the nape of her neck, but she was able to steady herself in his arms.
Multiple lorries must be driving by. Because the siren continued to wail, and the ground continued to shake.
She opened her eyes, feeling the sudden urge to look at him. “Kitt, you don’t think…?”
Roman only gazed down at her, but there was a haunted gleam in his eyes.
You don’t think this is Dacre’s soldiers? You don’t think that this is the end, do you?
He didn’t know, she realized as he caressed her face. He touched her the same way he always had, as if he wanted to savor it. As if it could be the last time.
The front door blew open with a bang.
Iris startled again, but Roman kept his arms around her. Someone was in the house, striding down the corridor with a heavy tread. And then came a voice, unfamiliar yet piercing.
“Marisol!”
A woman appeared in the kitchen. A tall soldier, dressed in an olive-green blood-splattered uniform. A rifle was strapped to her back, grenades to her belt. A golden star was pinned above her heart, revealing her status as a captain. Her blond hair was cut short, but a few tendrils shone in the light beneath her helmet. Her face was gaunt as if she hadn’t eaten properly over the past few months, but her brown eyes were keen, cutting across the kitchen to where Iris and Roman stood, embracing.
At once, Iris knew her. She had been kneeling in this woman’s garden, preparing it for her return. “Keegan?”
“Yes. Where’s my wife?” Keegan demanded. She hardly gave Iris the chance to respond before she turned on her heel, disappearing down the hallway. “Mari? Marisol!”
Iris slipped from Roman’s arms, hurrying after her. “She’s not here.”
Keegan pivoted in the foyer. “Where is she?”
“At the infirmary. What’s happening? Do we need to evacuate?”
“Yes.” Keegan’s gaze flickered beyond her, to where Roman had limped into the hallway, following them. “One of you needs to get the dash-packs ready. The other, come with me.” She stepped back into the brightness of the front yard, and Iris turned to Roman.
“Marisol has the dash-packs in the pantry,” she explained. “There should be four of them, one for each of us. If you’ll gather them together, I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.”
“Iris, Iris, wait.” He snagged her sleeve and drew her to him, and she thought he was about to argue until his mouth crashed against hers.
She was still breathless from his kiss a full minute later, when she was chasing Keegan through the chaotic streets. There were lorries parked everywhere, and soldiers were spilling out of them, preparing for battle.
“Keegan?” Iris called, hurrying to keep pace with Marisol’s wife. “What’s happened?”
“Dacre is about to assault Clover Hill,” Keegan replied, stepping around a man who was running home with three goats on a leash and a basket full of produce in his arms. “That’s a small town only a few kilometers from here. I don’t think we’ll be able to hold it for long, so we expect Dacre will strike the Bluff next, within a day or so.”
The words went through Iris like bullets. She felt a flash of pain in her chest, but then she went numb with shock. This can’t be happening, she thought, even as she saw how the residents of Avalon Bluff were rushing out of their homes with suitcases and dash-packs, heeding the orders of soldiers who were telling them to load up into the lorries and evacuate.
There was one family who had dragged a huge framed portrait out of the house and into their yard. A soldier was shaking his head, saying, “No, only the essentials. Leave everything else behind.”
“The residents are being evacuated by lorry?” Iris asked.
“Yes,” Keegan replied, her eyes set dead ahead of them as they continued to wind through the crowded street. “They’ll be driven to the next town east of here. But I’m asking for any residents who want to fight and defend the town to stay behind and assist. Hopefully, there’ll be a few who volunteer.”
Iris swallowed. Her mouth felt dry, and her pulse was beating hard in her throat. She wanted to stay and help, but she knew in that moment that she and Roman should evacuate.
“I never got your name,” Keegan said, glancing at her.
“Iris Winnow.”
Keegan’s eyes widened. She tripped over a loose cobblestone, but her reaction to Iris’s name was quickly stifled, which made Iris wonder if she had merely imagined it. Although she was haunted by an unspoken question …
Has Keegan heard of me before?