Page 49 of Iris
Iris
An annoying shadow falls over me as a small hand rips my book away.
I glare up at Rue from my blanket in the shade, under the oak tree.
She smiles down at me, her dark hair with the sun-kissed highlights waterfalling down around her face.
“I-rus, pay me attention!”
“Give me my book.” I reach for it. “I was reading that.”
“Ugh,” she says, tossing it to the grass, “it’s boring.”
“It’s politics.” Rue’s sort of right, the subject matter’s dry and on the boring side if you don’t peek between the words.
“That’s what I said. Boring. Since you’re not doing anything, what do you think of this?” She pushes her phone in my face as the Queen Bee Icon thunders over the screen like she’s some kind of army of one.
No wonder my sister likes her.
The screen is black and white, the shadows stark. Whoever the Bee is, is as dramatic as fuck.
“It’s weird.” Rue crouches down, the phone still there. In my face. “Some people are posting Stitches saying she’s been kidnapped by the Monarch and Sophine’s behind it, but that makes nooo sense. Like, WTF?”
“Rue.” I look up at the blue sky peeking between the leaves overhead. “No one’s been kidnapped. There are no villains.” At least not how she means. I think Sophine’s a villain, but a low-key type, one hellbent on keeping the status totally quo.
Which means Omegas—Omega females—repressed into baby making roles.
“There are. The QB’s saying that. If you know how to speak QB, which I totally do.”
Piano tinkles pretty melodies on the air from the house. “She’s just Stitch-baiting. QB hasn’t got any gossip so she’s stirring pots to get people reading and keeping her the top of the Stitch pile.”
“Says you.” My little sister looks at me with big, serious eyes. “The QB is saying there’s a war coming.” She frowns, pulls her phone in to read something that flashes up, then looks back at me. “Should we get guns?”
“No, we should not.” I shove her with a toe. “Stitch. Bait. Now I know you’ve got chores so you should do them.”
“We have servants now.”
“Mom says chores are still our responsibility.”
“Mom isn’t out here. She’s in the front with that new head gardener and Heath’s out. I’ll do it later.”
“She won’t like you lazing.”
“You’re lazing.”
“I’m resting since I’m in this stupid Season. So go.”
“Nah. We’re safe.” She moves, pulling her legs under her so her ass is on her heels, and she shakes the phone at me. “I’m telling you, something’s up. It’s all secret revolution stuff and she hasn’t told us if you’re the Luxe yet!”
“Exactly.”
Rue flounces off to lean against the tree dramatically that I’m lying under.
I sit up. I’m not going to get anymore reading done and waiting three days for the phone to buzz with a message from Killian is driving me crazy.
“It’s unfair,” Rue says.
Keeping up with my sister is sometimes a full-time job. “What is?”
