“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 wassupposed 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.”
“Quite romantic,” Finn drawled.
“Never claimed there was anything romantic about politics,” Henry said. He flicked his wrist, checking the time. “You need to get going. Be the charmer we both know you can be.”
Finn said goodbye to Henry and made his way to the subway. It would shave off time and frustration simply to take a cab, but Henry thought it was important for Finn to be seen as a ‘man of the people.’
And given the positive press that had come from some other passenger snapping a picture of Finn while he’d been standing, one arm holding on to the bar, the other holding a book he was reading on interspecies relations after giving up his seat to a young fae woman, Henry was right about that.
The subway platform buzzed with its usual chaos—commuters dodging harried pixie couriers, a warlock softly muttering into a runestone, a bored centaur chewing something that looked suspiciously like a travel-sized hay bale.
