Ruthless Vows (Letters of Enchantment, #2)

He was on his knees, gasping.

She knelt before him, touching his pale face with her hand. He felt so cold, like he was carved from marble. Fear struck her heart when she saw the bloodstains on his sleeves, the wounds on his wrists. She didn’t know what had happened since the last time she had seen him, but she sensed that his story would tear through her like rusted steel.

“You’re safe, Kitt,” she whispered, drawing him into her embrace. She wanted to weep, feeling how he shook and wheezed for air. She caressed his hair. “You’re safe with me.”

He pressed his face to her neck. When he wept, she felt empty of words, like they had been scraped clean from her bones. There were only her hands, her arms, and her mouth, pressed to his hair.

And she wept with him.



* * *



If Roman was being honest, he didn’t remember much after that moment when Iris had come between him and death. The hours that followed were strange ones, slipping by like he was in a fever. He felt lost in a swirl of storm clouds and smoke, and while he could hear and see, he couldn’t take those moments into his memory.

But when he fully came to again, he found himself lying in a hospital bed, an intravenous needle in his hand.

He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the quiet bustle of nurses and doctors, the click of wheels, a whimper from two beds down. He was afraid to fully acknowledge where he was until a svelte older woman with short gray hair and brown eyes stopped at his bedside.

“How are we feeling, Mr. Kitt?”

“I’m not Mr. Kitt,” Roman ground out. But then he realized how rude he sounded, and he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” the doctor said with a hint of a sad smile. “Do you want to tell me the history of your symptoms, starting when they began?”

Roman hesitated, his chest tightening when he remembered Avalon Bluff. But he let his hands relax at his sides, realizing that he was safe here. And he needed to open those old scars so they could heal.

He told the doctor everything. How long he had been feeling his symptoms, and what made them worse. How he had breathed in the gas at Avalon Bluff.

The doctor listened and recorded it all down on her clipboard, but then she placed her stethoscope on his bare chest and asked him to breathe. Roman did as she requested, anxious to look at her face. When she drew back, her expression was inscrutable, but there was a hint of sorrow in her voice.

“I would like to take an X-ray of your chest,” she began, “but I can tell you what I believe it is, due to the dozens of patients I’ve already seen and treated today for conditions identical to yours.”

“Tell me honestly, Doctor,” Roman said.

“Your lungs have scar tissue, which was created by the gas you were exposed to. The scarring makes it difficult for you to breathe, as you described, and it has also created stress on your heart. There’s no surgery or medicine that will fully treat this condition, but there are things you can do to help ease your symptoms when they worsen. Most of all, you will need to make adjustments in the days ahead, to ensure you are taking care of both your lungs and heart. Otherwise, this condition can be fatal, leading to cardiac arrest or making you susceptible to consumption.”

Roman was silent.

“Do you have any other questions?” she asked gently. “If not, I’ll send one of the nurses over to start your first breathing treatment and to administer some medicine.”

“Yes,” Roman said as he stared into the distance, at the white walls and faint blue curtains, dividing patients from each other. “When can I leave?”

“When you’ve been cleared, both by me and by the new chancellor.”

“The new chancellor?”

“Yes. She’s requested that all of Dacre’s soldiers be held either in the prison, or in the hospital if they need medical attention.”

Roman swallowed his panic. “I’m not a soldier.”

“I know.” The doctor squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t let this worry you. Focus on your recovery, so that I can discharge you soon. Your family is also keen to see you. We can’t admit visitors due to the circumstances, but your mum and Iris are both thinking of you and are eager to have you back.”

The doctor moved on to the next patient.

But Roman’s heart quickened, pounding until his breath wheezed. He wanted to go home; he wanted to be with Iris. And yet how long would he be here, cloistered in the hospital?

Chilled, he laid his palm over his breast. Over the hollow ache of his heart.



* * *



It was noon and humid, like summer had devoured the last weeks of spring. Iris paused to wipe the sweat from her face. The muscles in her arms and back were sore from all the hours she had spent moving rubble aside, but she wouldn’t stop. Not until they had recovered all the people who had died and were still buried beneath stone and brick. Not until they had rescued all the survivors, although as the days continued to progress, the chance of finding people still alive was greatly diminished.

Iris didn’t dwell on this fact, though, for one simple reason. It had been three days since the bombing, and she still hadn’t found Forest.

He’s fine, she thought as she pushed herself to work harder, scraping through piles of crushed rock until her fingernails broke.

But it wasn’t just the fact that her brother hadn’t appeared yet. Two days ago, the hospital had refused to let her visit Roman. The last time she had seen him, he had been lying on a gurney, surrounded by nurses who were rushing him into the infirmary. She had held his hand until she was forced to relinquish him, uncertain whether he had felt her touch or heard her voice.

Iris raked her fingers through her damp hair. She let her anger fuel her as she continued carrying bricks and twisted pipes and broken window frames to the wagon bed. Again and again, until Helena brought a canteen of water.

“You need to take a break, kid,” she said, looking Iris over with a worried gleam in her eyes. “Why don’t you collect names for a little while?”

Iris drank the water. She wiped her mouth and said, “No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

She left Helena gazing after her, and worked for another hour. Then another. Any time someone called for assistance, she lunged to join them, wondering if they had located Forest and Sarah, trapped beneath the debris, waiting to be drawn up to freedom.