Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“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.”
“A book? Like … a land book?”
She’d come across many a land book in her time—ones that had likely been left by careless humans on the beach and had been swept away in the tide. But by the time they made it to the seafloor, there was nothing left but a soggy clump of paper.
“Yes,” Tatiana said, head tilted as she watched her daughter’s eyes brighten.
“But how?”
“My best guess is it has been spelled to survive underwater.”
Her hands shot out, grabbing the tome with eager hands. She ran her fingers over the cover, amazed at the smooth feel of it.
The cover shimmered faintly beneath her touch, humming with subtle enchantment. It was a leather-like material, not fish leather, nor kelp-pressed pulp. It was something foreign. Something from the land.
Her fingers trembled as she flipped it open. The pages were bone-pale and unmarred, each line of text as crisp and perfect as the day it had been printed.
It smelled different than sea books too. Faintly metallic, with just a subtle hint of candle smoke, from whomever had spelled it to survive the deep.
Iris swallowed hard.
Maybe it was a PR stunt. Maybe it wasn’t. But the book was here, it was real, it was new, and it was personal.
Iris couldn’t remember the last time someone had given her something that wasn’t about education or duties.
“I didn’t know that was possible,” she said, looking up at her mother.
“Nor did I. But you know who did?”
“Who?”
“Your fiancé.”
Fiancé?
“Finn? Finn sent this?”
Why would he do that after what she’d done? Was it some sort of apology?
“He did. Even after you dumped a drink on his head.”
“Mother, I—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Iris. You had one job to do: to represent not only this family but also all of your people by being a kind and gracious brunch date. You failed even the most basic task set forth at your feet. You have embarrassed me, your sisters, this kingdom, and all of our kind. I am ashamed to have not only a daughter but also a princess to this great kingdom behaving so atrociously. Your behavior today was selfish. You may not have meant harm, but intent does not outweigh perception. Perception is everything in politics, and today, you projected pure chaos.”
Each word was a piercing sensation to Iris’s chest.
Her mother was right. She’d been selfish in her actions, thinking only of her own unhappiness, not the image she’d been projecting of all merfolk. She hadn’t even taken a sip of that lovely drink the server had prepared for her.
“I wouldn’t have blamed Mr. Westrock if he’d held a press conference explaining your reckless and rude behavior. But no, instead, he visited a bookstore, found a witch to enchant a book, then had it sent here for you. His graciousness seems boundless.”
Graciousness, Iris wanted to scoff. It was probably some carefully curated public relations move.
“I’m afraid your behavior is forcing my hand.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tomorrow, you will take your belongings, pack them in a suitcase, and go back to the surface.”
“My belongings? Why?”
“Because you are moving in with your fiancé.”
“What? Mother, I—”
“This is not up for discussion. You should count yourself lucky that Mr. Westrock still wishes to marry you. Because you would not have liked your punishment if this arrangement had fallen through.”
“But—”
“If you insist upon taking that insufferable pelican with you, I suggest you teach him proper restaurant etiquette. Now go. I am quite tired from all of the stress today.”
“Mother—”
“Iris, darling, I believe you have tried my patience enough for one day. Go. Take your book. Reflect upon the kind of man who would give you a gift after such blatant disrespect. Maybe you will conclude what I have known all along—Finn Westrock will be a considerate and forgiving husband for you. Now go. I need to rest. I have a council meeting in the morning.”