Page 68 of House of Lilith

“The vampire?” he asks as he turns to look at me.

I nod. Then I point at the woman in a dirty white wedding dress. “See that right there? She has a blindfold on, suggesting she has no idea what she’s walking into.”

He stays silent for a second. Then I hear him ask, “You like it?”

I turn to frown at him. “Likeit?”

“You seem to know a lot about it.”

I let out an amused scoff. “I know a lot about the Second World War, too. Doesn’t mean I have fuzzy feelings about it.”

That makes a smile tug at his lips, my heart responding with a flood of relief.

“Is there anything here that youdolike?”

I squint at him. “Why?”

“Why?” he echoes, his mouth cracking into that grin again. “Need an essay explaining my motives?” he asks teasingly. “Not sure it’d be up to your standards, but I can give it a go. What’s the deadline?”

I roll my eyes at him, but there’s a smile dancing on my lips. “Fine. Follow me.”

And I turn to keep walking down the hallway, passing painting after painting until we reach the alcove.

I slow to a stop, sensing him do the same. I point at the statue nestled inside. “This,” I say.

He stays silent for a second. “A peasant girl with a doll? Not what I expected.”

“That’s Vasilisa the Wise,” I snap at him, albeit warmly, “a famous figure where I come from.”

“Alright, alright,” he says with a laugh, raising his arms in defense.

“See the embroidery on her dress? That’s the traditional sun chariot depiction.”

He takes a step to the side, to see what I’m pointing at, and he gets so close, I can feel the heat off his body. And I’m still staring at the statue, but my attention is wholly on his proximity.

“So what’s the story behind this Vasilisa girl?” I hear him ask.

I think for a second. “You know Dame Gothel?” I don’t wait for an answer because, well, of course he knows the most famous fae of all time, the witch from countless fairy tales. “Well, this is a story of one girl’s encounter with one of the many recorded versions of her — Baba Yaga. It’s basically about the girl being kicked out of her home by her evil stepmother and stepsisters to fetch firewood from the evil witch in the middle of the harshest winter.”

I throw him a glance before I say with a soft laugh, “Of course, the three evil women thought that Baba Yaga would simply kill the girl and rid them of who they only viewed as another mouth to feed. But the girl’s doll helped her win the witch over, return carrying fire in skulls, and turn the women to ashes.”

“Weird,” he says. With the corner of my eye, I catch him giving me a side-ways glance, the look in his eyes intense and piercing. “Is it because of the story you like it? The statue, I mean?”

My heart starting to pound, I force myself to look away and fix my eyes on the statue. “I don’t know. I just do. It was donated to the school by my family, back in the nineteenth century.”

“Ah,” I hear him say, dropping his voice, “the family with a capital F. How come it’s tucked away like this?”

“It’s a bit tacky so everyone seems to hate it,” I start, doing my best to ignore the fact he seems to be looking atme, not the statue, “starting with the Duchess who first received it as a gift from her mother-in-law. Maybe that’s part of the reason I have a soft spot for it.”

“Meaning?” comes a whisper that makes my skin flush.

I turn to look at him, finding him staring at me with soft yet intense eyes. “If you want to achieve anything of significance,” I say, “you can’t worry about being liked.”

“Mm,” he hums, the sound making me lose my breath. His eyes dart to my lips and then back up to my eyes. “Makes me wonder, what you plan on achieving,” he says in a whisper.

“Mm.” That’s all I say. That’s all Icansay as I struggle to keep my breathing even and my eyes from roaming all over his face, his jawline, his lips.

He blows out a soft laugh, raising his eyebrows. “It was an actual question,” he says, making me snap out of it.

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