Page 2 of Iris
Can she follow in her sister’s footsteps and claim the title of Luxe? We’ll have to see.
For this Season, the Monarch has decided to stretch her wings and paint them black because the theme of this Season is…
Dark is Night.
The moody, Gothic aesthetic is in.
Hivemind, it’s a new year.
New scandals await.
So, send in your predictions on who’ll make the Monarch’s short list or any interesting tea.
My DMs are always open!
- Queen Bee
CHAPTER
ONE
Iris
“Nope. Not doing it.”
I stare at the doors to the mansion, Gothic in style. It’s been lit by candles to offer pools of flickering gold in an otherwise oasis of dark and gloom. A summer home for Dracula, if he were real.
“It’s your thing,” Marigold hisses, tugging my dark veil up.
“Veils?” I ask. “Transylvania-chic? That’s my thing?”
“Maaaybe.”
Giving her an epic glare, I tug it back into place. It’s not even a real veil. For starters, it’s black, the netting so thin and fine you can recognize who lays beyond. But her Great Councilness, the Monarch of Sabine, has decreed this Season will be something unlike any of the others.
“Slapping some candles down and naming the SeasonDark is Nightdoesn’t make it cool, punk or goth.” I wrinkle my nose.
“Emo?” Rue asks, bouncing up and into me. “Or…” She trails a hand through the air in an arc, “‘Glamo’?”
God. Now that she’s fifteen, she’s unbearable. Still too bouncy and perky, still too chatty. I quickly grab her and move her back. “Ugh, kill me now. If I’m dead, I’ll be in peace.”
“You’re dressed for the occasion,” she says, grinning.
I roll eyes heavenward. “Actually, don’t kill me.” I look ahead, itching to be at home, anywhere but here where societal norms are chains.
Rue bounces in front of me, her dress a gradient of grays tinged with silver. I want to be mean, but I can’t. She’s too proud of the dress, and the little thorn that she is, she’s still my sister,
“The QB says you’re lucky to be invited, after your stunt last summer with Alicia and the juice,” she says. “Can you believe it? That’s super lucky.”
Yeah, lucky.
“Stop that.” Mom nabs hold of Rue and pulls her back as we wait to be announced. Heath’s standing stiff and annoyed in his black-on-black tux, completely oblivious to the flutter of sighs that run through all the girls who pass him. “Behave, Rue.”
“Mo-om,” Rue whines, “you can’t.” Then she poses, smiling smugly. “I’m an Omega.”
“An Omega who’s about to lose her phone privileges for the entire summer if she doesn’t quit it,” Heath mutters, coming in and staring her down.
That makes Rue clamp her mouth shut.
