Chapter 4
Iris
“I’m so glad you were available to meet with me today,” Finn said as soon as they were both seated.
Iris bit back her real thoughts that ran along the ‘It’s not like I had a choice’ direction and pivoted to the complete other way.
“Of course! I was so intrigued by your offer. It’s not every day a land man wants to endure the rigorous courtship of a mermaid.”
Doubt flicked across his green eyes, making her hold back a smile.
He was a master at controlling his emotions, though, tamping them down and replacing them with something more manufactured. Even the smile he shot her seemed practiced and disingenuous.
“This union could be historic,” he said.
“A royal mermaid has never married a surface-dweller before, let alone a human.” That voice that just a moment before had been so appealing felt suddenly fake.
Too clean. Too careful. Like someone had focus-grouped his vowels.
“A real step forward for both our kinds. And who better than us to set the example?”
Oh, he was smooth all right.
He was the kind of man who could convince you to sell him your coral bed and thank him for the privilege.
Iris’s eyes narrowed.
But before she could respond, a peppy woman came bouncing over. In one hand was a small glass that she set silently in front of Finn. Then, with a flourish, she set a glass the size of her head in front of Iris.
“We made you a saltwater cocktail!” she gushed. “Salt water infused with just a splash of gin, muddled with nori, and garnished with pink Himalayan salt and ground kelp!”
They’d even put a little fake fish inside the cup.
“It looks lovely,” she told the waitress, even if she’d never had ‘gin’ before.
“And we have a massive seafood menu. Just flag me down when you’re ready to order.”
With that, she bounced away.
“She was very excited to get to make you a drink. And serve a mermaid.”
“I feel like there are a lot of eyes on me,” Iris admitted.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of white. Turning, she saw Monty landing on the railing near an abandoned table. Hopping down, he started eating leftover crab cakes off a plate.
“Can you blame th—Is that a pelican?”
“Seems like it. So, Finn, what made you decide you want a mermaid wife?”
He reached as if to loosen his tie before he lowered his hand to the white tablecloth instead.
“Well, to be honest, you represent a key demographic. Your background will add great diversity to my platform.”
He sounded like he was reading off a script.
Had his campaign manager coached him on what to say? Or, worse yet, did he truly feel that way?
“We don’t need to be in love, obviously,” Finn kept prattling on. “We simply need to put on a convincing show for the media, and—”
“Shoo! Shoo!” someone called from her side, making Iris turn to see one of the servers trying to get Monty to leave.
She was so amused by the show Monty was putting on, pretending to try to bite the woman’s arm, that she lost track of what Finn was saying.
Not that it was hard to drift off during Finn’s press release disguised as conversation.
“The optics of a single male candidate aren’t great. Not even with how much progress we’ve made as a society the past few decades. The people—both human and not—like the idea of strong family values.”
“I see,” she said when it seemed like Finn was waiting for a response from her.
“It is, unfortunately, a lot to accomplish in a small amount of time. But I’m confident we can curate something believable. After all, a picture-perfect couple is curated, not happened upon.”
How romantic.
“You’ll be amazed how quickly the press will take to you. Once we … tweak a few things.”
“Tweak a few things?”
Iris was quickly losing control of her composure. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to blow up at him. Then there would be no avoiding her mother’s wrath.
“Oh, I don’t mean to offend you. Your look might just need to be … refined a bit. Nothing dramatic, just polished. We all have to sacrifice a bit of individuality for the sake of public image. We might just need to tone down the … mermaidness.”
“But I am a mermaid.”
“Yes, which is an important factor. Polling suggests that the fae, vampires, and shifters—in particular—would prefer a candidate who has close ties to one of the paranormal communities, so they know we understand their specific concerns. However, polls also suggest that they like their politicians to be relatable. Voters wouldn’t be able to see themselves in us if we are too … unique.”
“So we can’t be individuals.”
“Sure we can. For example, I practice archery, go to plays, play golf—”
But did he enjoy any of those things?
“Look, I can see you’re getting a little … tense.” She wasn’t sure what word he’d been going to say before he settled on that one. But even if it was unflattering, she would have preferred something real. “Try not to let your emotions lead.”
Try not to let her emotions lead? She was a mermaid. Everyone knew that mermaids were known for accepting and embracing their emotions.
And he was, what, calling an important part of her identity a flaw?
“Politics are all about calm and control. If we give in to feelings, we lose credibility.”
Iris could feel her pulse quickening with each word he was saying.
“And the last thing we need is an emotional outburst in front of the cameras.”
She was out of her seat before she could even process what she was doing.
Her giant drink was in her hands one moment.
The next, it was poured over his head.
As the salt water ran down his face, there was no anger in his expression. Not even surprise. Just a quiet kind of resignation. Like he’d expected the worst and was relieved it was only seawater.
For a man who seemed so obsessed with perception, it was almost unsettling how little he cared about how he looked in that moment.
He simply blinked the salt from his lashes, the tiniest sigh escaping as if he’d just surrendered to her fury.
It made her stomach twist.
He was still sputtering on the salt water as she turned and walked away.
How was that for an emotional outburst?
“Shoo, you dumb bird!” she heard from somewhere behind her.
By the time Iris burst out of the restaurant, Monty was flitting over to her, his feathers literally—and figuratively—ruffled.
“You dump a drink on a politician’s head, and I’m the one who’s banned from the restaurant?”
“The nerve of that man!” Iris stomped forward, finding her gait was a lot steadier when she was angry. “He was basically calling my entire persona political suicide, but he still expects me to want to marry him?”
“Back in my day, we didn’t need to arrange marriages,” Monty said. “We just fought over sardines. Like adults.”
“Not a single word that came out of his mouth seemed like a unique thought that he’d had. It was all off some script or something. The man is absolutely devoid of character.”
“He looks like he wears boat shoes unironically,” Monty declared.
“Dammit,” Iris said, stopping mid-stride, head tipped up to the sky. “My mother is going to be livid. I’m going to be cleaning barnacles off sea turtles for the next thirty years.”
“Oh, what do you have to be sad about? I’m the one who’s losing his chance at fame and fortune.”
“Maybe this won’t get back to my mother.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Didn’t you see that pack of gulls hanging about? They’re your mother’s personal spies. She’s probably getting an earful as we speak. I should have eaten them instead of those crab cakes; they’re repeating on me,” he said, tapping his chest.
“Don’t even try to be comforting,” Iris grumbled.
“Technically, I am your emotional support bird. Emotionally, I am struggling.”
“What are you struggling about?”
“I was having dreams of penthouse apartments or brownstones with some order-in sushi and eighteen seasons of The Real Lives of Desperate Minotaurs.”
“I fully support you going out and getting that dream life for yourself.”
“And leave you all alone? The woman who gave me life?”
“I gave you a voice,” Iris clarified.
“Same thing! Do you think I enjoyed squawking and grunting? Like some … some animal?”
Iris smiled down at her old friend. “I’m sorry to destroy your dream. If it makes you feel any better, I am going to suffer for it.”
“A platter of anchovies would make me feel better.”
“You got it. If I’m not grounded like a child, that is.”
By the time she and Monty made it back to the hotel, gathered her things, and drove back to the beach, Iris had rehearsed a long speech to give her mother. Then revised it half a dozen times.
“You’re going to need to go and face the music eventually,” Monty said as the two of them sat on the sandbar, watching the sun lower down on the horizon, casting pink and purple slashes across the sky.
“Yeah,” Iris said, flapping her tail in the water. “I guess, so long as it isn’t the singing eels, I can deal.”
She sucked in a deep breath and slipped further into the water. For the first time in her life, all she felt was dread as the water enveloped her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, if I can get away,” she called to Monty.
She dipped under the surface, humming to herself as she swam slowly back down to the seafloor.
The subtle headshake from the gate guard was all the evidence she needed that the word had already gotten back to her mother.
It was time to face the consequences of her actions.
“Where is she?” Iris asked Juna as she swam past her sister. She chose to ignore the judgmental eyes.
“In her room.”
If possible, Iris swam even slower as she neared her mother’s quarters.
“Come in,” Tatiana called before Iris could even lift her hand to knock.
Iris’s brows knitted when she didn’t hear any sharpness in her mother’s tone. But she pushed open the door and swam inside.
“Mother, I can—”
“That arrived for you,” Tatiana said. She waved her hand toward the table where her jewelry collection was set.
Iris moved closer, brows knitting when her gaze landed on it.
“What is this?”
“A book.”