Page 170 of Iris
I have to get there, I have to…
But if I rush off, then?—
I find my notebook and my pen in my satchel and start to write.
Monarch,
I know you told me if I caused anymore trouble, I’d be out. Well then, so be it. I don’t want the life that society and your Council want to force on me. I want to mate with the ones my heart calls to.
Isn’t that what we all want?
You have in your hands the power to shape the future or seal the fate of your Council.
Perhaps you can fight the inevitable for a while by cracking down on those who want like their livesthe way they see fit, but all you’ll be doing is forcing misery on them.
We are more than our last names.
We are more than our money or social standings, and we are more than the hierarchies we are born with.
You must know this being the first woman elected to the Council. You’ve broken barriers when no one thought it was possible.
The world is changing, and the Council needs to change with it.
People will fight.
Nightshade is small. It’s not violent. The group only wants to talk and lay out Sabine’s grievances. So do I.
I don’t think Mr. Vanellen was kidnapped. I think he ran away. He was last seen running off, with bags packed and a girl by his side.
Surely a united society is better than one fractured?
Why can we, for one Season, let love win?
At least listen to Nightshade. Hold off your forces. Talk to them.
Or me. I can speak for them.
In the meantime, I beg your forgiveness. Here is a bottle of Siren Rum from Nightshade as a peace offering.
A place to start negotiations.
- Iris Gardener
With shaking hands, I go up to the Monarch’s grand door and set the paper under the bottle there. Someone will see it—hopefully Sophine or Fredrick—the moment they try and step into the doorway.
It’s a risk, but it’s one I have to take.
Then, I turn on my heel and run.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-ONE
Killian
Smoke hangs heavy in the air.
It’s not anyone from the Lower Side starting fires. Or Nightshade, like the socials are saying.
