Page 101 of House of Lilith

It’s only then that I realize I haven’t picked up any of the books I need. But just as I move to get up, a ping sounds from my phone.

Quickly, I grab it and I switch it to Mute, throwing a glance around the room in case anyone’s shooting me a nasty look.

But my eyes dart straight back to the screen. There’s a popup there saying I have a text from Mother.

Just what I need right now, I think as the knot of anxiety tucked deep inside my gut rises to the surface. Taking a deep breath, I pull up the chat and I read:

“Do you think she’ll ever want to talk to me again?”

I frown.

Then it hits me. She’s sent it to the wrong number. And she’s about to send another one, at least judging by the three little dots.

I breathe a sigh of relief, starting to type a message of my own, to let her know.

But she beats me to it. “This is what Max just asked me. Is that how it is, Anastasya? We can no longer be bothered to even greet the prince himself?”

It makes me grit my teeth, as soon as I realize what’s happened. “Not entirely true, Mother,” I rush to type, “I did nod.”

I press Send and then wait for two long minutes, staring at the screen, thinking about him going running to a mother. Nothismother.Mymother. But a mother nevertheless.

“Then all is right with the world,” Mother’s reply finally arrives, the sarcasm in it successfully coming through. “Except, wait, it isn’t. I want you to go to his quarters right now, and apologize.”

What the… And I can tell by the time it’s taking her to reply that she’s using one of her servants to text while she’s doing three other things in the background. So this is what I type back, “If you want to make requests like that, I suggest you give me a call.”

For a while, I just wait for the reply, fuming. Then, when it doesn’t arrive, I realize she’s giving me the silent treatment, and a knot twists in my stomach.

My teeth gritted, I let out a deep breath and I type, “I apologize, Mother.”

Coming quicker than the ones before, the reply reads, “Apology accepted, dear. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

For a second, I just stare at the screen, my mind scrambling for a way out of it all. “Look,” I finally start typing, holding mental fingers crossed, “I did nod, so it would just come off weak if I went there and apologized right now. I’ll make sure to say a proper hello the next time I see him.”

It takes her a moment, but what she writes back is, “Good girl.”

That gives me mixed feelings, but I move to put my phone away, thinking the conversation is over.

Then another text arrives, making me let out a sigh even before I check it. “Anastasya,” it reads, “we were gracious enough to give you some time to think about things. We just ask you don’t confuse it for license to get the family even deeper into trouble.”

The family, or the royal we, I think to myself, bitterly. But I just write, “Yes, Mother.”

“PS,” she adds, making me frown in expectation of another favor, “please make sure Nikolay is taken off the buddy duty. We don’t want him mixing with the wrong crowd, especially after everything that happened with Uncle.”

Murder, I want to yell at her. There’s been a fuckingmurder. But it seems it’ll just be forgotten.

Expelling an angry breath, I put my phone away and I sink deeper into my chair.Gracious enough to give me some time to think, those are the words that echo through my head.

And they make me lean my head on the backrest and look out the window, reliving that moment on New Year’s Eve, during winter break, when I was rushing down the stairs and into the dining hall only to spot him standing there in the foyer, staring at me as one of the servants was taking his coat.

That was the night his incessant texting finally stopped. He brought me flowers and a diamond bracelet that I didn’t accept, and we had dinner together, all of us, mostly in tense silence, Max trying to strike a conversation with me, and Mother acting as if she was pityinghimand accusingmethe entire time.

“Poor Max,” she told me after dinner. “For you to be treating him so unfairly and so harshly, when all he’s ever done was indulge you.”

And it took all I got, but I stood my ground.

“Fine,” she eventually told me, acting as if I needed her permission, “you’ll be officially broken up for now.”

The rest I’m paraphrasing, but it goes roughly like this.

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