Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Blue evoked feelings of trustworthiness and approachability to constituents. Or, at least, that was what decades of research had concluded.
Black was too somber, tan too casual. And gray was often the color worn by lawyers. And no one wanted to be associated with lawyers.
Blue hit the sweet spot, especially when paired with a crisp white shirt and a lighter blue tie. Not red, which was too aggressive and power-hungry. Or even striped, which people couldn’t put a finger on why they didn’t like but didn’t, regardless.
‘Color theory’ was just one of the many strategic moves being used by Henry, Finn’s campaign manager. And only friend in the world.
What that said about Finn, he chose not to think about.
Finn’s gaze moved over the rest of his appearance to check for anything out of place: neatly styled brown hair, his cleanly shaven square jaw, and the green eyes that Henry insisted were just the right shade—not too dark to seem like he’d gone to a witch for an enchantment spell on them, but not too light that they made him look like a revenant.
“Because you are falling behind in the polls,” Henry said. He was slouched on the couch in the corner of the room, one of his long legs crossed over the other at the ankle, his pants riding up to reveal socks printed with some amorphous cat character from an old cartoon.
Finn had to wear white socks, no exceptions. And he could never miss a trim or teeth-whitening appointment.
Henry’s own light brown hair was brushing the collar of his suit jacket. And he’d never gotten his crooked eye tooth fixed.
“I’m not the politician; you are,” he’d reminded Finn when he’d mentioned it.
“It’s early yet,” Finn insisted.
“That is the exact type of thinking that is going to have you losing this race.” Henry snapped the newspaper closed and stood as he folded it. “You need an advantageous marriage to a prominent member of one of the supernatural royal families. You know as well as I do that it’s important to make it clear we respect their dedication to stick to their old ways while also existing within a larger democratic rule. Marrying a member of one of the royal families will send that message of mutual respect loud and clear.”
“Fine. But why a mermaid?”
“Well, a mermaid would certainly look nice on your arm,” Henry said. Finn’s nose wrinkled at that. He was willing to concede that an arranged marriage would be good for his image and career. But he didn’t love the idea of choosing someone just because they were beautiful. “And they were the only family who asked for a reasonable request in exchange for the union. The vampires wanted the removal of bite consent cards.”
Finn ignored that sticky subject.
“What did Tatiana ask for?”
“Tighter pollution regulations around the city.”
“That was already part of my campaign.”
“Exactly. We are winning here.” Henry’s golden-brown eyes were bright at not needing to give in on anything.
Henry was experienced and knowledgeable, but he could (at times) be a bit cutthroat for Finn’s liking.
“What do we know about my potential bride?”
“There’s not much to know. Yet. She’s the second-born daughter.”
“Second?”
“The firstborn is automatically meant for the throne,” Henry explained.
“Right. Anything else?”
“Her name is Iris Lanae Marivelle. She’s a princess. And she likes to read. That is all I’ve got.”
“Really?” Finn’s brows knitted. It wasn’t like Henry to have such little information. He’d once compiled an entire fifty-page document about an important sorceress whom he’d only needed to shake hands with. Now he was supposed to marry this woman without knowing anything about her?
“Stop fidgeting.” Henry swatted him with the newspaper. “It’s just brunch.”
“You’re sure she’s coming alone?”
“From my understanding.”
“And you’re sure you can’t come?”
“I have that speech to write for your press conference.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed at Henry, suspicious. Henry was the definition of a micromanager. He’d once crashed Finn’s personal training lesson to inform the trainer that Finn’s shoulders weren’t wide enough and that the situation needed to be remedied.
Sure, Finn did appreciate his stronger, wider-looking shoulders. They did fill out a suit nicely. But Finn was forever concerned that Henry might drop in on his next haircut appointment or during his yearly physical.
“I’m not buying it. You never miss an opportunity to stick your nose in.”
“Fair enough,” Henry conceded. “But that is about politics. This is about your personal life.”
“You forced me to take up archery and take an interest in plays.”
He wasn’t even going to mention the piano lessons. That had been a disaster both of them wished to forget.
“Besides, in your eyes, my marriage is political.”
“Sure. And there will be discussions and media training for your bride-to-be, but I figure I can trust you to handle a simple meeting by yourself.” Henry checked his watch. “You need to get going if you’re going to get across town in time. Be charming. Ask her questions. Remind her how advantageous an arrangement this is for the both of you.”