Page 17 of House of Lilith

It surprises me, when, of all things, I choose to linger on Hilde’s words. “You’ve probably already done it, haven’t you?” she asked, referring to the kiss.

My eyebrows pull down. Why would she just assume? Giving someone the kiss is the most intimate thing of all, more serious than marriage itself.

Even Max, who, as it turns out, expected me to give it to him last night, saying we’re as good as married, didn’t insist after I told him I’m not ready for that yet.

And what’s wrong with waiting until marriage? Once we get married, we’ll get even closer than we are now. And sex in general will get better as well. I imagine it the way it was before my…troubles. Before all the fights and before I became so self-conscious about it all. No, better, I tell myself, it’ll bebetterthan that. It will be aboutus, and the kiss will come then. I’ll be ready, I’m sure of it.

I spend the next couple of minutes reliving our conversation, the one right before we made love. And it was so tender, the way he consoled me about my future as Princess, reminding me that the two of us won’t be like the other Princes and their wives. I’m marrying a man who knows and gets me and will give me all the support I need in becoming exactly the kind of princess I want to be.

An image of the tundra pops into my mind, the bleak colors and the comforting inhospitality of my ancestral land.

“After we’re married, I want us to go spend like six months at my family’s Winter Palace,” I told him after we agreed we’d have the wedding in May, my favorite month of the year.

And it was so eager, the look he gave me when he said yes, that it all made me feel so much better about everything.

But right now, I’ve no time to be contemplating the future. I’ve got more pressing things to do. So I spring from my bed, I get dressed and I draw the curtains.

And it’s everyday that I do this, but today is no ordinary day.

It’s neither my regular clothes nor my training outfit I’m wearing. The uniform I’ve squeezed myself into is charcoal silversilk, fabric known for being the top choice of the deadliest Originals in our lands. And on my back, there is the luxuriously embroidered green and gold sigil of my Academy.

Frowning, I come to sit cross-legged in front of the altar in my room. There’s practically no light coming through the curtains and the only sound I hear is the ticking of the clock beside the open window. It’s almost noon and I don’t have a lot of time before I have to show up for the start of the First Game.

My eyes sweep over the low, carved table in front of me. In the center, there’s the fat, white candle. To the left, the miniature wooden spinning wheel. And to the right, the shallow brass bowl filled with blood.

Like every day since I was five years old, I prepare to do what every vampire needs to do to keep his powers from fading away. Renew the vow made to the gods that give them. But today it can’t be the automatic act it normally is.

An image pops into my head, an image evoked by a line I read in the History of Grimm Academy. The Games of 1861, when “the First Game was so brutal, the Grimm Academy hospital became so overcrowded, they had to start sending the injured to the nearest medical facility.”

Today, I’m to participate in one of those. And sure, it won’tkillme. But that’s basically all it’s not allowed to do.

So it’ll make all the difference, how I do in the Ring. To my life, whether I get to keep all my limbs. To my family, whether I disappoint them. And to myself, whether I prove worthy.

I take a deep, nervous breath and I start the first ritual. I light the candle and for the millionth time these past few days, I think of what to ask of God of Death, the first of the Holy Trinity. The fact pains me, but today, using my magic to conceal the scars on my forearm is out of the question.

Sadly, that doesn’t make it any easier to feel determined about the choice I’m about to make. Who knows what I’m going to need? The Obscura keeps its secrets until the very last moment, so the players never get to know what will be expected of them beforehand. And even once the Game starts, you still first have to figure out the rules.

I force myself to go with the power I’d already concluded was the best choice for me. General body stealth. I take a deep breath and I do it.

Give me a light step, oh God of Death, and one day, I’ll walk away with you into the unknown.

I open my eyes and I snuff out the candle. In that very moment, I feel a surge of power rush through my body, for a split second making it disappear into the folds between realities. It’s intoxicating because it’s there that all power ultimately resides, in the nothingness that the gods have chosen to retreat into.

I inhale deeply, settle back in and move on to the miniature wooden spindle to the left of the candle. I don’t have Mind Magic, but as my father used to say, it’s good to address the gods even when you’ve nothing to ask of them. Vampires are said to be greedy and I can see exactly how that came to be, but not my father. No one could ever have said that about my father, I think with a pang of grief shooting through me.

I snap out of it and with one swift movement, I make the spinning wheel go round and round. As soon as it stops, I lift my finger to it and I prick it on the little spindle to the front, addressing the God of Dream.

Thank you, God of Dream, for making me your child.

And there has been no transaction between us, so there’s no rush of power following my words. Just comforting silence that makes it clear to me that I’ve been heard.

But I’ve no time to waste, I think as my mind rushes back to the impending doom that is the start of the Games. And I still have the most important thing left to do.

So I turn my eyes to the blood-filled bowl. To ask the God of Flow to grant me further use of Blood Magic. Blood, to put it clumsily, is the lifeblood of all vampires. And it doesn’t renew or even pump on its own. After all, it’s not ours. Every single drop was gifted to us by the original vampire. And it’s this god vampires get their reputation from. Hungry for life, hungry for power. It’s the darkest, most seductive source of power we have.

I place the finger I’ve just pricked above the bowl and I squeeze a few drops of blood out.

Give me mastery of the Flow, oh God of Flow, and I vow to use your blood to rise above nations.

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