Iris~~

The plane touches down on free soil—now I'm being melodramatic. But am I? I'm free from. . . from. . . from the Society. You know, the evil aristocracy that I grew up hating but now I'm marrying into? My sarcasm should not be directed at myself.

This is free soil though. People here can travel. If I didn't know Jonas, I wouldn't have ever been given the opportunity to fly away from Elleany. In a way, being on French soil at last is funny. I'll probably get in trouble if the Society learns where I am—or at least why I'm here—to see their exiled. But this is the place I was supposed to go to not cause the Society any problems.

As the plane slows, the outside world comes into focus, and I spot the airport terminal closest to us, a glass building that looks like a cylinder on its side. The rest of the airport is huge, and we pass a plane with a clover on its tail that's from Ireland. The control tower looks like the terminal except it's upright. Suddenly I don't want to chuck Colton out of the plane. I'm nervous but slightly excited. I glance at Bently and Colton who's seated next to me. Who would have though my bachelorette party would be with Colton and Bently? I don't see us hitting the town and getting drunk.

Though it is Bently and Colton. Maybe the getting drunk part is foreseeable.

The private jet of the Society's stops on the tarmac, and steps are wheeled up to the cabin door. Colton and Bently disembark first, but I hang back at the threshold. How do I explain this to Jonas? I can't. He's on his way to be millions of miles away. I can't believe he's actually up there—in space.

I make my ways down the stairs, one foot at a time, and eventually I step onto the tarmac. Onto France. A few attendants unload Colton's bags. He's the only one with luggage. A part of me was expecting for there to be press. The two of them are foreign leaders visiting another country after all. But Colton wouldn't want anyone to know we're here, which is going to be impossible to keep secret. Does the monarchy already know? Surely, they do.

"Iris, keep up," Colton yells. He and Bently head for a doorway that's underneath the glass part of the terminal.

I lift the front of my skirt so as not to trip over it and hurry after them all while working to maintain poise and grace. When I step through the doorway, I find them talking to a man behind a desk. Colton hands him a stack of papers, which must function as our passports.

About ten minutes later, the man clears us, and I follow Colton and Bently through another door, this one leading into an elegant hallway that seems to be seperate from the rest of the airport. The black marbled hallways take us outside where a limo awaits. A woman stands ready by the door which she promptly opens when she sees us.

"Beta." She bows as Colton slides in followed by Bently. "Digamma." She definitely knows who they are.

I smile at her as I pass her, ducking down to enter the limo.

"Miss Levine." She even gives me a small bow. To me? Did Colton see that?

I settle into a seat across from Colton. Bently is closer to the open partition that separates us from the driver. He begins talking to the driver in, what due to our location on the globe, I can only assume to be French.

"What other languages does he know?" I ask Colton.

"Italian and German, I believe."

"What is he telling the driver?"

Colton shrugs, pulling out his phone from his pocket. "I don't know, but I'm going to make the safe assumption it's to where I told him I want to go."

A grin spreads across my face. "You don't know French, do you?"

He rolls his eyes before focusing them on his phone. "Do you?"

"Touché." I try winking, but of course it fails. "But I wasn't supposed to come with you. Neither was Bently. What would you have done without him?"

"I'd make them speak in English."

"And if they didn't know English?"

"I'd scare the ability out of them."

I roll my eyes. "It's not an innate ability," I say.

"A pity. It would make my life easier."

Bently turns around in his seat so he's sitting correctly and facing us. "We're on route for the palace."

Colton forms a death grip around his phone.

"Do you really believe Vienna associates that closely with them?" Bently asks.

"I'm going off of one photo, but I believe so."

"And Erik?" My stomach twists in a ball of nerves.

Colton rubs his forehead, messing up the front of his hair. "Honestly, I have no idea."

Most of the buildings we pass appear to be hundreds of years old and still elegant. They're tall and pressed tightly against each other. The stories each one must have seen. . .

The limo pulls up to a tall black fence with hedges lining both sides. Beyond the fence is a palace made of stone and what looks like pearl. The edges are a rich cream and the stone the color of a vanilla latte—that description speaks volumes on my current lack of sleep.

The gate is adorned with pearl and guarded by five soldiers, all wearing red pants, blue jackets, and hats like those of a wooden solider. One of them approaches the driver's window, he and Bently converse with the soldier.

Finally, the gates open and we're allowed through. I twist my hands in my lap until I realize it's wrinkling my skirt. I was able to shower and freshen up on the plane, but I'm still wearing the clothes I was kidnapped in, and they're not exactly perma-pressed material. The green fabric of the skirt is a sea of wrinkles and folds, and my blouse could use a bit of perfume. The sleeves fan out as they travel down my arm so that the back of my arm is covered but not the front, leaving the bandage Colton gave me while on the plane exposed.

That's something I'll miss about the Society. I don't have to hide my Expiration Date when I'm there.

But back to the point I was getting at. I'm going to be seeing royalty in what I'm wearing.

A few minutes later we're being escorted by three soldiers to the double doors, which two more soldiers on the inside open for us. I've grown used to the magnificence of the Society, but this palace is of a different sort. Black and white tiles made of marble and incased in a pinkish tan stone make up the floor and the stairs. Vines of gold drape over the banisters of the staircase and continues along the railing of the four floors that wrap around the interior of the palace. A gold chandelier hangs over my head, and lifelike portraits of hundreds of years of French royalty stare down at me.

It's magnificence to the extreme degree.

We're led to another set of double doors but larger. One of the soldiers presses his hand to his ear where I can faintly make out an earpiece and says something in French. A moment later he and one of the other soldiers opens the doors, revealing a throne room, where not only are the floors made of the white marbles, but the walls and ceiling as well. Beams of marble arch from the tops of the walls toward the middle of the ceiling.

Large windows as well as five crystal chandeliers bring light into the room. I hear water trickling and along the edges of the room, water flows headed toward the end of the room, coming together before a raised platform only a step high where two thrones stand where Prince Alix—no, King Alix now and Princess Abella sit.

Colton bows, which is a sight for sore eyes, once to the king and once to the princess who nod in return. Bently bows only to the King, but I curtsey to both.

Alix stands and walks toward us, stepping down off the platform. "What brings you here?" he addresses his question to Bently and Colton.

"Pleasure," Colton says the word like he means it, almost seductively. "My brother, the Preeminence, is away for business, and Iris has never had the opportunity to leave the country."

"We thought you were here to check on your exiled." Abella remains in her throne. "We have three of yours now."

How did I forget about Andrew?

Colton smiles graciously, and I bet he's actually feeling gracious. She's saying exactly what he wants to hear. "I did have hopes to be able to check on them while I'm here."

Alix rubs his chin. "Unfortunately, Erik, has disappeared, though Miss Rosen assures us he's still in the country."

"And Andrew?" Bently asks. Andrew was the one who set the bomb in Jonas's office; the bomb that was supposed to kill him and caused his Expiration Date to be when it was.

"He is here in Paris." Abella's stare is rigid, but I'm not sure where or at who it's directed.

Doors open behind me and someone lets out what sounds like a twisted yelp. We turn, and there in the doorway stands Vienna.

Wattpad was amazing, and thank you to anyone who tuned in to my Instagram takeover of their account! All of the Wattpad staff made me feel super welcomed, and a big thank you to my talent manager, I-Yana, for coordinating the day! avaviolet, tahliepurvis, winx1348, and fayeaden are all such lovely ladies! You should totally check out their stories!

You can find more pictures on my Instagram! @mikaelabender