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)
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Juna said.
“She does! All I have ever wanted is to go on land, but she’s keeping me here. All Iris wants is to be in the sea, and she’s forcing her to go on land. It makes no sense, unless she just wants to hurt us.”
“Or,” Juna said, her tone taking on a frustrated edge, “she is an incredible ruler who knows what is best for her people. And sometimes what is best requires a sacrifice.”
Iris was starting to feel just like that: a sacrifice. Someone handed over to a man she’d never met, knew nothing about, on a silver platter.
Here. Isn’t she pretty? She’d look lovely standing silently at your side.
Iris shook off those thoughts, knowing she wouldn’t be able to play her part even halfway convincingly if she let herself get too bitter about the whole situation.
“Anyway,” Juna said, looking at Iris. “You remember where you are going?”
“You’ve told me four times already.”
“Mother has it all arranged. There will be a change of clothes for you. And you will need to bathe.”
Juna tripped on the word. It wasn’t one most merfolk were familiar with. They didn’t, after all, need to bathe.
“Which, again, is a process—” Juna started.
“Where one submerges in water then rubs a slippery substance known as ‘soap’ all over their bodies.” Then, as she understood it, the water went down the drain. It sounded like a monumental waste of water to her.
“Precisely. If you struggle with dressing, the woman, Maria, who is taking you to the hotel can assist you.”
How hard could dressing be? Sure, she still had no idea how she was going to handle the whole legs situation, but she didn’t imagine it would be hard to slide fabric up over them.
It was actually the only part Iris was a little bit excited about. She’d never worn clothes; she couldn’t even imagine what they would feel like. Though she was reasonably sure that if the standard attire for humans involved that lower-body garment that slipped between women’s butt cheeks, she wasn’t going to enjoy that.
“I’m sure I can handle getting dressed.” She had to not only accomplish that but also tamp down all of her anger and resentment about the situation so she could come off as overly excited about it.
“Remember that while you are on land, you are representing not only our family but also all our kind. Conduct yourself appropriately,” Juna said, reaching out to tuck some of Iris’s hair behind her ear in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture.
“I know what I’m doing,” Iris assured her sisters.
She just went ahead and didn’t tell them that what she was doing was making her potential fiancé run screaming.
She said her goodbyes and started her swim toward the surface.
“What do we have here?” Monty called from the sky as she broke the surface on a sandbar. He landed with the grace of a swan and the drama of a disgraced duchess.
“You didn’t hear the news?”
“News? What news? I do hate to miss some juicy gossip.”
Iris plopped herself on the sand, knowing it would be a few minutes before the water would dry and her tail would slowly disappear. She couldn’t pinpoint why the potential of seeing her land legs filled her with so much dread.
“I am being sacrificed to the gods of politics,” Iris told the bird. “I’m getting married. To a human.”
“Betrothed? You’re betrothed? To a man with knees?”
“So it seems. I have to go meet with him today.”
“I have just the outfit for an Upper East Side brunch.” At Iris’s raised brow, Monty fluffed his feathers. “I’m obviously coming with you. I’ve always felt I was meant for city life. Do you think a cravat is too much?”
Iris had no idea what a cravat was but was almost certain it would be too much. Like most things Monty.
“Is there some sort of clause in this marriage contract for your emotional support pelican? Because there should be. Anyway, tell me everything. Does he have a penthouse? Does he have … breadcrumbs?”
Leave it to Monty to somehow lighten her mood, despite everything.
“I don’t know where he lives. I don’t know much about him. Apparently, his name is Finn Westrock—”
“The mayoral candidate?” Monty gasped. “We’re going to be political royalty. I want a sash! No, a tiara. With diamonds. We might be invited to galas! And be in the tabloids! I do hope they will catch my good side. I mean, they’re all good sides, but still. This is fantastic. We might be one step closer to my real dream: Broadway! Which, of course, I could segue into a long-running reality show. I could interview people every week. And give my opinion—”
“How do you know he’s a mayoral candidate?”
Looking down, Iris watched as the glitter of her scales dimmed, shimmer by shimmer, leaving unfamiliar skin in their wake.