Divine Rivals(9)
Author: Rebecca Ross
Sarah sighed as a piece of chutney fell from her sandwich. “You have to be born into that profession, or be very, very old. But what about you, Winnow? What is your dream?”
Iris hesitated. It had been a long time since someone had asked her such a thing.
“I think I’m living it,” she replied, tracing the chipped edge of her teacup. “I’ve always wanted to write about things that matter. To write things that inspire or inform people.” She suddenly felt shy, and chuckled. “But I don’t really know.”
“That’s swell,” Sarah replied. “And you’re in the right place.”
A comfortable silence came between the girls. Sarah continued to eat her sandwich and Iris cradled her tea, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was nearly time to return to her desk when she dared to lean closer to Sarah and whisper, “Do you ever pay attention to what the Inkridden Tribune publishes?”
Sarah’s eyebrows shot upward. “The Inkridden Tribune? Why on earth would you—”
Iris held a finger to her lips, heart quickening. It would be her luck if Zeb happened to walk by and hear them.
Sarah lowered her voice, sheepish. “Well, no. Because I don’t want to get fired.”
“I saw the paper yesterday,” Iris continued. “On the street. They were reporting on monsters at the front.”
“Monsters?”
Iris began to describe the image from the paper—wings, talons, teeth. She couldn’t stifle her shudder as she did, nor could she untangle the image of Forest from it.
“Have you ever heard of one?” Iris asked.
“They’re called eithrals,” Sarah said. “We touched on them briefly in my mythology class, years ago. There are a few stories about them in some of the older tomes in the library…” She paused, a startled expression stealing across her face. “You’re not thinking to write your own report on them, are you, Winnow?”
“I’m debating. But why are you looking at me that way, Prindle?”
“Because I don’t think Autry would like it.”
And I don’t care what he thinks! Iris wanted to say, but it wasn’t completely true. She did care, but only because she couldn’t afford to lose to Roman. She needed to pay the electricity bill. She needed to purchase a nice set of shoes that fit. She needed to eat regularly. She needed to find her mother help.
And yet she wanted to write about what was happening in the west. She wanted to write the truth.
She wanted to know what Forest was facing at the front.
“Don’t you think Oath needs to know what’s truly happening out there?” she whispered.
“Of course,” Sarah replied, pushing her glasses up her nose. “But who knows if eithrals are truly at the front or not. I mean, what if—” She abruptly cut herself off, her eyes flickering beyond Iris.
Iris straightened and turned, wincing when she saw Roman standing on the kitchen threshold. He was leaning on the doorframe, watching her with hooded eyes. She didn’t know how much he had overheard, and she attempted a smile, even as her stomach dropped.
“Conspiring, are we?” he drawled.
“Course we are,” Iris countered brightly, holding her teacup like a toast. “Thank you for the tip, Prindle. I need to get back to work.”
“But you haven’t eaten anything, Winnow!” Sarah protested.
“I’m not hungry,” Iris said as she approached the doorway. “Pardon me, Kitt.”
Roman didn’t move. His gaze was fixed on her as if he wanted to read her mind, and Iris fought the temptation to smooth the stray tendrils of her hair, to anxiously roll her lips together.
He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, his teeth clinking shut as he shifted sideways.
Iris stepped over the threshold. Her arm brushed his chest; she heard him exhale, a hiss as if she had burned him, and she wanted to laugh. She wanted to taunt him, but she felt scraped clean of words.
Iris strode back to her desk and set down her lukewarm tea. She shrugged on her coat and grabbed her notepad and pencil, feeling the draw of Roman’s suspicious gaze from across the room.
Let him wonder where she was going, she thought with a snort.
And she slipped away from the office.
* * *
Iris wandered deep into the library, where the oldest books sat on heavily guarded shelves. None of these volumes could be checked out, but they could be read at one of the library desks, and Iris choose a promising tome and carried it to a small table.
She flicked on the desk lamp and carefully turned the pages, which were so old they were speckled with mold and felt like silk beneath her fingertips. Pages that smelled like dust and tombs and places that could be reached only in the dark. Pages full of stories of gods and goddesses from a time long ago. Before the humans had slain them or bound them deep into the earth. Before magic had begun to bloom from the soil, rising from divine bones, charming certain doorways and buildings and settling into the rare object.
But now Enva and Dacre had woken from their prisons. Eithrals had been spotted near the front.
Iris wanted to know more about them.
She began to write down the lore she had never been taught in school. 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 mortal strength and resilience, but perhaps most of all were rumored to be places of great enchantment, drawing the ill, the faithful, the curious.
Iris herself had never visited Enva’s grave in the east. It was kilometers from Oath, in a remote valley. We’ll go one day, Little Flower, Forest had said to her only last year, even though they had never been a devout family. Perhaps we’ll be able to taste Enva’s magic in the air.
Iris bent over the book, continuing to search for the answers she craved.
How does one god draw another?