So as Arden spent the next few hours slathering things onher face and hair as he took her from grudgingly awake to (in his words) an ‘ethereal sea stunning,’ she tried to think of ways she might make Henry and Finn second-guess her as a political wife at the town hall, without being offensive to anyone or making a complete fool of herself.
She wanted to talk to Selene about it. But by the time Arden thrust the garment bag at her, they only had five minutes left before Henry started nagging.
Alone, she slipped into the light-pink pencil dress that hugged her figure but had a modest neck and hemline.
The fabric slid over her hips like a second skin, soft and smooth and nothing like seaweed wraps or the scratch of coral-polished shells. Too soft. Too easy. Too … human.
Though, she had to admit, Arden definitely knew how to dress her.
As she turned in the mirror, she had the strangest, most stomach-dropping thought.
She was starting to like playing dress-up more than she liked forever sporting her tail and shells.
The thought was so shocking, she walked out of the bathroom on stiff legs, her spine ramrod straight, feeling like her very mind was betraying her nature. The dress was simply something shewore. Her tail was part of who shewas. How could she possibly think for even a moment that she preferred window dressing to her true form?
“Arden does good work,” Henry said with a nod.
It was high praise from him, but Iris was too stunned by her own mind to react.
“Hey, are you all right?” Finn asked, reaching out toward her arm. Like he thought she might need support.
She did.
But she yanked her arm away.
She wasn’t upset with him this time. She was mad at herself. For becoming so land-oriented. It had been so easy to slip into this new world, this altered version of herself. There were things on the surface that felt like pieces she’d been missing all her life.
The books came into mind first. After a lifetime of reading the same stories, the world had opened up to her. There were endless stories within countless books. There were places she could only visit between the pages of books she would never be able to read under the water.
It was more than the books, though. It was the fascination that came with exposure to other cultures, other people. She hadn’t been ignorant of the surface. But it had existed as an abstract, almost like bedtime stories instead of reality. But almost as soon as she’d surfaced, she could see how narrow her own world had been. Always the same faces, the same sights, the same language and customs. While the land was bursting with people and experiences she never could have even imagined.
They were strange and wonderful things. Reality television. Soap operas. Taco Tuesdays. Next-day delivery. Fuzzy socks. Escalators. Balloons. Tiny dogs in sweaters. The scent of rain. The sparkle of magic in the air after a spell. The way humans argued passionately about pizza toppings. Intricate designs on long plastic nails. Glitter eyeshadow. Hot pretzels.
Without realizing it, without meaning to, she’d come to love thousands of little things she could only find on the surface.
She was terrified she was beginning to prefer it to her home, the place she loved so much, the thing that sang in her very veins.
It was terrible of her to think after just a few weeks on land that she could possibly choose it over her home, her ocean, her people. How could she abandon herself like that? She had to go back, to fall in love with all the things that had made her never want to step foot on the surface world in the first place.
And to do that, she had to get out of this engagement once and for all.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
She needed to get this event over with so she could get back to her original plan.
To get herself out of this marriage.
To get back to the ocean.
Before she became someone she didn’t even recognize anymore.
Nothing else mattered.
19
Finn
It was a packed town hall. Everyone stood shoulder to shoulder, barely having enough breathing room.