Chapter 50
CHAPTER
FIFTY
Iris
X avier drops me off on the edge of the street in the predawn light. Killian’s in the back.
I don’t look back as I pull the cloak tight, climb back up the trellis, and into my room.
I strip off and scatter the pillows everywhere before diving into the shower and then under the covers.
While I lie awake in my night dress, I relive the wonders of the last few hours.
I hid the bottle in the cloak’s big inner pocket and it’s sitting on my floor, calling to me.
Not to drink.
But to deliver to the Monarch. It needs to be me to make the pitch, just like we first decided.
I can’t see anyone from Nightshade, including Killian, rocking up to talk to Sophine and having a calm conversation. There’s too much animosity there.
There’s one person who can change that. One.
And that’s me.
I guess I’ve always known I was meant to do something big, something life-changing. I’ve been pushing against the norm since I could walk and talk. And I refuse to be a good, quiet Omega.
I have too much to say.
I get up and get ready, dressing like me, in my big boots, a plaid black-and-pink skirt, long stockings, and a black T-shirt.
I pull the cloak around me, even though I pack the bottle in my oversize satchel bag.
Then I sit on my bed and wait.
There’s something in the air, something heavy.
Change is coming.
“Iris?” Heath calls up the stairs. “You ready?”
I take a breath and go down. He’s there waiting for me at the bottom where he eyes my outfit and scowls.
“Really? You’re wearing that?”
“I figured if I’m going to be mating with the man, he might as well know the real me.”
Heath’s eyes narrow suspiciously and says, “Don’t fuck this up.”
I sit all day in front of the Monarch’s meeting room, and my soon-to-be mate is nowhere in sight.
Could I really be that lucky and he change his mind?
I sit alone way into the late afternoon and into the beginnings of evening.
Something’s going on. People run to and fro. Whispers rise with words like trouble , missing , taken, and fires .
But one word floats out as a couple of young Alpha women pass, and it turns everything in me into ice.
Nightshade.
I grit my teeth.
As time passes and the shadows grow and deepen, I realize that this long wait hasn’t been just some kind of power play by the Monarch.
I haven’t even seen Fredrick, the little man in blue. And I definitely haven’t seen Sophine.
Others go back and forth with files and phones in hand, all full of harried whispers.
My heart starts to thump, and I pull out my phone.
“They kidnapped him?” a woman says into her phone as she passes. “But he’s not even in the top three…”
Another three Alpha men hurry in the other direction.
“Nightshade?” one says. “Who even are they?”
“Riffraff. Rebels trying to scare the Council,” the second mutters.
“I heard they’re the ones starting fires, burning things down in the Lower Side.”
Lower Side?
Panic rises in me.
Things are burning? Kidnap?
“What do you expect of the lower class? And now they’re trying to bring chaos here,” the man next to him says. “Barbarians.”
My mind races to the Alpha guy and the Delta girl I bumped into.
I check my feeds, and my heart sinks to my toes. A spate of fires, of people protesting about the crack downs.
And then I click on the Stitch app, and the Queen Bee, her avatar, now a sexy bee detective, dances around. She spits fiery words about the Monarch, about me, and how one of the Council candidates has been kidnapped. There’s a girl’s missing now, too.
Fuck. It can’t be coincidence. Last night…
My stomach turns.
The QB’s still squawking.
Nightshade is out to riot, she says, and they’re lighting buildings on fire in the Lower Side.
Right then, the wail of fire engine sirens come from outside.
My mind rushes straight to my mates, my real mates.
I have to get to them.
I try and send a text, but nothing goes through. Just a blaring tone answers. I even try and call Vi, but that’s dead in the water, too.
Someone’s blocked cell service. And that means…
I dig out my mini. It’s dead, too.
“Shit.”
I have to get there, I have to…
But if I rush off, then?—
I find my notebook and my pen in my satchel and start to write.
Monarch,
I know you told me if I caused anymore trouble, I’d be out. Well then, so be it. I don’t want the life that society and your Council want to force on me. I want to mate with the ones my heart calls to.
Isn’t that what we all want?
You have in your hands the power to shape the future or seal the fate of your Council.
Perhaps you can fight the inevitable for a while by cracking down on those who want like their lives the way they see fit, but all you’ll be doing is forcing misery on them.
We are more than our last names.
We are more than our money or social standings, and we are more than the hierarchies we are born with.
You must know this being the first woman elected to the Council. You’ve broken barriers when no one thought it was possible.
The world is changing, and the Council needs to change with it.
People will fight.
Nightshade is small. It’s not violent. The group only wants to talk and lay out Sabine’s grievances. So do I.
I don’t think Mr. Vanellen was kidnapped. I think he ran away. He was last seen running off, with bags packed and a girl by his side.
Surely a united society is better than one fractured?
Why can we, for one Season, let love win?
At least listen to Nightshade. Hold off your forces. Talk to them.
Or me. I can speak for them.
In the meantime, I beg your forgiveness. Here is a bottle of Siren Rum from Nightshade as a peace offering.
A place to start negotiations.
- Iris Gardener
With shaking hands, I go up to the Monarch’s grand door and set the paper under the bottle there. Someone will see it—hopefully Sophine or Fredrick—the moment they try and step into the doorway.
It’s a risk, but it’s one I have to take.
Then, I turn on my heel and run.