Chapter 19
Finn
It was a packed town hall. Everyone stood shoulder to shoulder, barely having enough breathing room.
Werewolf musk mingled with banshee perfume and something spicy an eagle shifter had smuggled in from a street vendor outside.
He should have been going over points and scripted answers in his head.
But all he could do was keep gazing over at Iris.
What happened in that bathroom?
Sure, she’d been in a bit of a grumbly mood when she’d gone in there with Arden. But she’d been tired. And Henry had been his usual self toward her.
When she’d emerged, though, she’d looked gorgeous. But pale. And those lovely eyes of hers? Haunted.
Had Arden said something to her?
He got the impression that the two of them were close. Maybe not as close as she clearly was with the witch, but close enough that he didn’t think Arden would do or say something to make Iris look like that.
He tried to catch her gaze, to mouth her some reassurances.
Before he could untangle himself from Henry, though, he was being announced.
They had to go out.
To her credit, Iris slipped a mask over her face, hiding all that vulnerability behind it.
Even if he hated that she had to do that.
They moved out in sync toward some enthusiastic—and just as many reluctant—claps.
Finn waited for Iris to be seated in the chair on the raised stage before he took his own.
He glanced at her once again, finding her sitting exactly how Henry had told her to.
But her spine was ramrod straight.
Her smile was plastic.
He started to address the crowd even as he reached out, placing a hand on her knee and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
When he glanced around the crowd, he noticed her smile had relaxed slightly. Though he wasn’t sure if he could take credit for that, or if she was just fascinated by the crowd.
Living in the ocean, she’d had a very sheltered life, only being exposed to other sea-dwelling creatures. She’d never gotten a chance to meet all the paranormals that he’d known all his life.
She’d met fae and a gargoyle with him. The witch from the bookstore, Arden the demon, and a vampire dress shop owner. But it still left so many other paranormals she hadn’t been in direct contact with.
She was trying to be subtle, but he could see her looking at the people gathered, likely trying to figure out what kind of paranormals they might be. Her gaze caught on a man near the front—tall and fit in his casual gray tee and jeans, his sable hair styled kind of shaggy.
He was a werewolf, but Finn couldn’t help but wonder if Iris’s interest was just because of his shifting abilities or if it was a different kind of interest.
A cold pit formed in his stomach, heavy and undeniable. For the first time in his life, he felt the urge to get up and square up to a stranger. For no other reason than he suspected that Iris might find him attractive.
“Yes, Miss …” he prompted, pointing toward an ether-eal high fae with white-blonde hair and a sharp triangular face.
“Folk. Hi. I actually come with an issue my kind and I have been struggling with for our whole lives.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What is the issue I can hopefully help with?”
“The fences,” Miss Folk said.
“Which fences?”
“Just about every fence around the city. But especially those around Central Park. They’re wrought iron,” she explained. “We would like to have them replaced with something less … murdery.”
There was a chorus of claps from her peers.
“If we’re speaking about those sorts of requests,” an older male werewolf said, moving forward, “my kind would like you to commit to changing all of the silver door handles in public buildings. It’s an accessibility issue.”
“While we are talking about accessibility …” Another woman stepped forward. She was a shifter of some sort, but nothing about her suggested what kind. “I would like for you to commit to adding larger stalls to public restrooms. It’s impossible to shift comfortably in the current ones.”
“Hell, it’s impossible to comfortably take a leak in the current ones,” some human in the back of the crowd piped in, getting a chorus of laughter.
There were dozens of other questions, concerns, and demands for change from the crowd.
Finn answered to the best of his ability, prepped well with all the talking points he and Henry had discussed all morning.
There were a few who threw him for a loop, of course; you couldn’t prepare for everything.
But he’d been coached for so long on how to answer things with confidence, charm, and just a little bit of humor—when situationally appropriate—that he managed to answer those questions and calm those concerns with ease.
This was the part that made all the rehearsed press conferences and long television interviews with talking heads worth it.
This was why he was running. To be a man of the people.
All the people. To learn more about the issues that other communities faced, and try his best to make a better, more equitable world for them all.
“Hello,” a woman said. She was tall, with long braids that hinted at green when the light hit them right. A dryad, Finn guessed. “I actually have a question regarding your pollution initiatives.”
“Of course. That’s an issue near and dear to my—our—hearts,” he corrected, giving Iris’s knee another squeeze. It made her smile stretch wider for the audience, but he was acutely aware of how it didn’t reach her eyes.
All eyes shifted to Iris, who looked wide-eyed under the attention.
“I, uh, yes, of course,” she said, slowly pulling herself together.
“Ocean pollution is at an all-time high. The last time I took a swim, I got a candy wrapper and a fishing line stuck in my hair. I’ve seen so many examples of carelessness when it comes to disposing of waste properly.
And I know the roadsides and forests are dealing with similar issues. ”
The dryad nodded along as Iris spoke. Finn could swear everyone in the room leaned into her, found themselves drawn to her. She wasn’t a siren. She didn’t have the ability to lure people in. Still, they found themselves entranced by her.
Finn couldn’t blame them.
He felt a similar—stronger—tug toward her. Even if she seemed to do everything in her power to avoid him. When she wasn’t buried in a book, or going out with Arden or Selene, she was behind a closed door with Monty.
Whenever he passed those closed doors, he would feel a tug of envy as Iris’s real, twinkling laugh filtered out into the hall.
The more he was around Iris, the more he realized that he almost never got that real part of her. She was always guarded, masked, watching him with pinched brows and eyes that always seemed to find him lacking.
He only caught glimpses.
Like when she’d been excited over the ring.
Or, of course, when his hands and lips were on her, when they were lost in sensation and each other.
But since that night in the pool, she’d made it a point not to so much as brush his shoulder in the hall.
All he did was replay that scene over and over in his mind.
There were more questions for Iris, despite her not having the power to make changes. It seemed like everyone was just charmed by her and wanted to be in her orbit.
And Iris, to her credit, easily warmed up and lost her tension. Despite being new to land politics, she clearly had experience speaking to large groups of people.
It struck him, as he watched her, how little he actually knew about her life and upbringing.
Being a princess, there must have been royal duties. She surely had training in decorum and composure and had been forced to sit through never-ending ceremonies and meetings.
She handled it like a pro.
Before he knew it, after answering a few final questions, the whole thing was over.
They made their way off the stage but somehow lost track of each other in the crowd.
He wanted to look for her, to bring her back to his side. Not just because it was important for them to show a united front and a happy relationship. He just wanted her there.
He was pulled in a dozen different directions then, shaking hands and making connections. Henry was right there with him, taking down numbers and making promises for private meetings.
At this rate, Finn wasn’t going to get a moment to himself until election day.
Then, if he got elected, it would be endless as well.
And if he didn’t?
Honestly, he didn’t even have a backup plan for that scenario. He’d lived, breathed, eaten, and slept this campaign since college. There was no vision that didn’t involve politics, making changes and helping the people of all the communities.
His father had been killed trying to protect the old laws. Finn wanted to help create newer, fairer ones—ones that would benefit everyone, not just the select few interest groups who could afford to buy off the former corrupt politicians.
If he couldn’t do that, he had no idea what his life would be like. Where would he work? Would he lose Henry to some different campaign in another state? Would Iris feel compelled to follow through with their arrangement?
That last one gave him the biggest gut punch of all.
Once the rest of the constituents had cleared out, Henry ushered Finn into the staging area, going over all the meetings they would be setting up, how he thought things had gone, and which paranormal groups they’d gained.
“Unfortunately, at this rate, I don’t know if we have a chance of winning over the vampires,” Henry was going on as Finn craned over his shoulder to see if he could spot Iris anywhere.
Where could she have gotten to? Especially once everyone was gone?
He wanted just a couple of minutes alone with her to tell her how well she’d done, how impressed he was with her grace and kindness.
And ask her about her background, what royal duties she liked, and which ones she couldn’t stand.