Chapter 15
Iris
“Just remember to smile for the cameras. Don’t ever let your face fall. If you look miserable for even a second,” Henry warned, “they will catch it and publish it. Along with some story about how you hate fae.”
“I don’t hate fae!” Iris insisted.
“That won’t matter. That’s the spin they will put on it.
Finn went to a siren poetry reading once, and the siren in question hit a painful note that made him wince.
What followed was an entire week of articles claiming Finn was not only speciesist to sirens but hated women’s stories and women in general. ”
“That’s absurd.”
“That is the media,” Henry told her as he handed her the garment bag with her outfit for the event.
Iris suddenly felt a little apologetic about all the times she’d thought the two men were overly concerned about what the media might print.
“When in doubt, let Finn lead with the answers.”
“Just smile and look pretty,” Iris drawled.
“Exactly,” Henry agreed, missing the sarcasm. “Okay. I have to go. I gave you flats,” he said, starting to lower the shoebox onto the counter.
“No! Not there,” she said, grabbing it out of his hands. “Finn said it’s bad luck.”
Henry’s raised brows had a lot to say. All of which she ignored as she took her outfit and made her way to the bathroom to get dressed.
Media nonsense aside, she was really excited about the event.
She’d asked Finn no fewer than a hundred questions about the parade, learning that it started out as a lunar alignment ritual, now turned annual fae flaunt-fest. He said it was not as flashy as the banshee lantern walk, but ten times louder.
She’d also inquired about what to expect and what might—or might not—be considered appropriate from a bystander.
It was the most she’d ever spoken to Finn since moving in with him. She tried really hard not to be charmed by his easy smiles. Or, you know, turned on by the smooth sound of his voice.
“Wait … that’s what you’re wearing?” Iris asked when Finn walked out of the bedroom, changed out of his usual blue suit. In its place, he had on knee-length tailored tan shorts, a lightweight brown cable polo shirt, and suede loafers.
It was casual yet screamed sophistication.
“It’s important for me to look put together at official events. But this isn’t supposed to look like an official event. We’re just supposed to be having a fun day out.”
Iris held in her sigh.
Nothing in Finn’s mind was ever just one thing. It always called back to the campaign and his image.
“Besides, I’ve worked hard on these calves. I’m tired of hiding them.”
That dragged a little laugh out of Iris. At the words, sure, but mostly at how genuine he sounded.
“I don’t know what the original calves looked like, but these look very mayoral. What?” she asked when he grimaced.
“The current mayor has chicken legs,” he said. “Don’t jinx me.”
“Can I hope my outfit is that casual?” she asked.
“Only one way to know,” he said, waving toward the bathroom.
It was his subtle way of trying to hurry her along, knowing she was always late and that he liked to be on time.
Iris went into the bathroom, combing her hair for a few moments longer than it truly required before opening up the garment bag.
It was too much to hope that Henry would let her wear a T-shirt and shorts. But she was pleased by the simple cream-colored A-line midi dress with a square neckline and wide straps. The back was low enough that it wouldn’t allow her to wear a bra.
Would she have preferred a more colorful outfit? Absolutely. But she was pleased with the soft fabric and the flowing skirt.
And the shoes?
Simple black ballet flats.
She knew when she slipped into her clothes and looked in the mirror that her outfit had been chosen explicitly to go along with Finn’s outfit. Did that make her feel a bit like the accessory she’d once been called? Yeah. But not even that could ruin her excitement about the event.
“Read—” Finn started as he heard Iris coming. But his voice fell away as he turned and looked at her. “Damn,” he said, exhaling hard as his gaze slid over her.
Each inch his eyes moved over felt like it warmed. And Iris couldn’t help but press her hand to her belly as it flip-flopped.
“We’ll be the picture-perfect couple,” she said, though she was pretty sure she was saying it to remind herself that this was a publicity stunt, not just a fun day out.
“Of course,” Finn said.
Iris was sure it was just her seeing what she wished to see, but she could swear she saw something sad cross his eyes.
“That’s the point,” he added, his voice deader than just a moment before. “Do you want me to carry anything for you, so you don’t need to bring a bag?”
“Oh, my phone. I want to take pictures. To show my sisters. If, you know, I see them again.”
“Of course you will see them again.” Finn’s certainty eased the ache at her sisters’ absence.
He shoved her phone in his back pocket, and then the two of them were off.
The barricades were already up to keep cars off the street, and thousands of people were on the sidewalks.
Iris was at once assaulted by the scents of hot pretzels, hot dogs, gyros, and the sickly-sweet smell of cotton candy coming from the dozens of food carts hanging around, just waiting for hungry spectators to stop by for some food.
“I forgot to ask Willow if she was going to be a part of this,” Iris said as she spotted a float parked down a side street, waiting for the parade to start, that featured several tall trees and a few potted little ones.
She couldn’t help but imagine adult dryads and little baby ones popping out of their trees as the float started to move.
“She told me last year that her tree is still too fragile to try to uproot it. But I’m sure she will be here. I’m surprised Monty isn’t here. This seems right up his alley.”
“Oh, he’s going to be here, all right. He got himself on a float.”
“A float? But he’s not fae.”
“Nope. But he has charmed the fae royal family. They invited him to ride with them.”
“I think I underestimated that pelican,” Finn said. “He really does seem to be going places.”
“He has always been a determined bird.”
“How did he come to talk?” Finn asked as they moved close to the barricade to secure their spots, as the crowd started to grow.
“Well, when I was a little mermaid, I was really lonely.”
“Really? Why?”
“Well, I guess I was a bit awkward. I kind of preferred to stay in the royal library and read. And no one else ever wanted to discuss books or anything like that, so I always kind of felt like an outsider.”
“So you befriended a talking pelican?”
“Well, actually, Monty didn’t speak then. He was just a bird who I swore had really knowing eyes. I used to sit on a rock and talk to him, tell him about my books, about my hopes, about what my mother was angry with me about that week.”
“How did he gain the ability?”
“Well, I remembered the stories of the Echoing Tides from my studies.”
At Finn’s blank look, Iris went on.
“Beneath the twilight tide, it was said that there is a species of rare oyster that absorbed not just seawater and minerals, but songs, stories, and secrets.
“Every hundred or so years, just after reproducing, the oyster travels to the harp coral and dies. And if you’re really lucky, you can find the pearls.
“So one night, I snuck out during one of my mother’s dinner parties and went in search of the pearl. It took me all night and part of the morning, but I finally found one.
“It was so neat. It shimmered like nothing I’d ever seen before. And, well, I’m a mermaid. I know all about shimmer.”
To that, Finn shot her a smile so warm that she felt like she could bask in it.
“So I took the pearl and offered it to Monty. The second he swallowed it, he started talking. And he has never stopped. He’s hardly slowed to take a breath,” she added with a little laugh.
“And you weren’t so lonely anymore.”
“Exactly,” she agreed.
Until now, she thought. Though having both Arden and Selene helped fill the space left by her hobnobbing pelican.
She glanced down the street, seeing a magnificent centaur in a vibrant green dashiki adjusting one of the sound boards just before music started to play.
“Oh, it’s starting!” Iris cheered, bouncing up and down as the first float started to move into the street.
It wasn’t the dryad one.
It appeared at first like a rolling garden—lush and vibrant. Roses, poppies, daisies, and lavender tumbled over its curved surface in a dazzling explosion of color. The petals swayed in some unfelt breeze.
Then—just as the float started to slide past them—the flowers appeared to shiver.
A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers—Iris included—as hundreds of tiny petals floated up into the air.
They weren’t plants after all.
They were flower sprites.
Their petal-wings fluttered in the air, fast and shimmering like dragonflies.
Iris’s head angled up, her lips parted, eyes wide, her heart thudding.
The shimmer of wings echoed something deep and wordless inside her.
It felt ancient—older than her frustration with Finn or the obligations to the surface world.
This was joy in its purest form. She wanted to bottle it, to drink it like sunlight through sea glass.
They lowered back down to the float, everyone moving in perfect choreography until they formed a sign out of their soft, vibrant bodies.
First, we pollinate.
Then, we party.
The onlookers erupted into cheers and whistles as music blasted from speakers built into the float, and the sprites indeed started to party.
“I think that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Iris declared when the float moved on.
“I agree,” Finn said, making her turn to find him watching her.
But before she could let herself analyze that, there was a chorus of voices, drawing her attention back to the street where hundreds of small red-hat-clad gnomes marched.
Each marched in a perfectly timed formation, wielding sparkly tools like hammers, garden spades, and rakes.