Page 84 of Iris
It’s the woman, Val, but her eyes are sharp as she waits.
“By getting a place on the board. No one’s running so?—”
“How?” Killian asks, sarcasm laced through his tone. “There would have to be an opening.”
“There is,” I say. “There’s a seat open. All it would take is someone like Val to show they have a big following, that the Lower Side seeks representation on the board. It’s a way in.”
“That would be nice, but there are no Council members from the Lower Side for a reason. They don’t want us to have a voice.They’re scared we’ll rile up the rich and then where will they be?” Killian asks. “Sophine won’t talk to us.”
“I’ll try,” I say.
They all turn as one and stare at me.
“And how would you do that, little girl?” someone asks.
I gulp, struggling to get my breath. “M-my sister’s mate. He has an in. I can ask.”
“To be on the Council?” Val says. “I’m sorry, but you must be what, eighteen, nineteen? They wouldn’t let an Omega of child birthing years have a career.”
I want to argue, but I can’t.
“Not for a seat, but…I can try to get your message to her. Through Stephan. I can ask him, see if he can convince the Monarch to give me another audience.” I seek out Killian, his eyes burn with something, but I can’t read them.
The room crowds and I can smell him and then a mix of scents, not one of them Xavier.
And damn, do I want that calming, solid presence of him here now, more than ever.
The one thing I’m not though, is a girl who backs down from things.
I’m not Violet with her anxiety.
I’m me.
I don’t really know who I am, but I want to find out.
“Why would she do that?” Killian asks.
“Because,” I say, “I’m one of her chosen.”
I don’t mention I was late, and I don’t mention what Stephan’s in is.
“And if I get in to see her, I’ll do everything to get on her good side and gain favor and hopefully open that door you need opened.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Killian
Iread the text from Xavier.
Xavier
Are you done? Trouble’s brewing from the ball. Guys I dealt with. Party’s still going, family still there, but they’ll look for her soon. Fuck.
Fuck the is the right word, I think as I close my phone, not texting him back. Trouble, also. I don’t need details to know that. But we’ll deal with it. Or he will.
He’s right, though. The ball will be winding down and we need to get pretty Cinderella back or it’s pumpkin fucking city and our plans back to the drawing board.
