Page 165 of House of Lilith

But that makes Howe appear back in front of him. “Foreign trash?” he drawls mockingly. “Well now you’re hurting my feelings.”

Fuck, I think to myself even before he motions to his pack and like a trained army, they almost instantly surround the guy, grab him by all his limbs and pin him to the ground with his legs spread apart.

Slowly, Howe comes to tower over him, his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as if he’s only mildly amused.

“Please don’t,” I hear the guy whimper.

“Shh,” Howe starts, the tip of his left boot coming to press on the guy’s crotch. “It’s rocks you play with, right?” He pauses for a second before he says in a near whisper. “Just picture yourself being one.”

And it’s at that moment that I just can’t take it anymore. I get up, my chair scraping against the floor, and I hear Howe blow a laugh through his nose, telling the guy, “Go on, you’re no fun at all.”

But I’m already running out of the cafeteria, my mind buzzing as this bitterness starts flooding my mouth.

*

It’s with unseeing eyes that I keep sitting there, watching my brother open his presents in the Grand Hall of our Summer Palace, surrounded by a hundred or so blood relatives, friends and sycophants. And all the polished candlesticks have been lit and all the marble columns decorated with wreaths and all the tables set with the finest foods and drinks you can come by in our lands.

But I’m sticking to the outermost table, away from the crowd, the one with the view through the French doors and into the garden, only sipping on my champagne and not even touching the food.

Despite my decision to simply not think about these things anymore, my mind keeps going back to the incident in the cafeteria today, trying to explain this sudden change in a certain someone’s personality. From calm to aggressive, from friendly to vindictive.

Or maybe it’s not a change at all. Maybe I just haven’t seen him in situations like these before.

But whatever the explanation and no matter how hard it is to swallow, maybe they were right. MaybeMaxwas right. He’s not someone I should ever have been more than polite with.

“Bloody hell,” Nikolay yells, making me feel grateful for this interruption in my train of thoughts as my eyes snap back to him holding something small in his hands. “Thanks, Lord Pfenning.”

I frown, the sight of the old lord making me think of all the spats I’ve been forced to witness throughout the course of my life — about titles, investments, lands…

And it makes me start contemplating Vasilisa and her methods again. Once upon a time, I think to myself, all the distinguished families gathered here were ordinary families. Until they decided to become more than that. And now they wield such tremendous power only to waste it on bickering over the most inconsequential things.

But if you took them out of the equation… Or if you tookyourselfout of the equation, I think to myself as entire worlds start exploding in my mind, different than anything I’ve ever known. It would mean such freedom to start from scratch, it’s hard to even contemplate.

And it’s not like things like that haven’t been done before.

It’s at that moment that I see Aunt Frieda separate from the crowd and come over to my table, snapping me out of it. I glance at the petit fours on the three-tiered silver cake stand in front of me and I know exactly what she’s coming for and I know exactly what she’ll say.

“Aren’t these petit flowers to die for, dear?” she says as she comes to stand in front of me, lifting a piece with two shriveled yet delicate fingers.

Petit fours, I think to myself.Fours, not flowers. “You couldn’t have said it better, Aunt Frieda,” I tell her, having long ago given up on the quest of teaching her what the word really is.

And I throw her a smile and she throws one back, but all of a sudden, I feel so desolate, thinking this is how I’ll spend the next Lilith knows how many years of my life, knowing exactly what Aunt Frieda will say and about what.

And just as she turns to walk back into the crowd, I see Max doing the opposite.

It makes me frown when I see he’s headed straight towards me, despite having been expecting him to come talk to me the entire evening.

“Hello, cupcake,” he greets with a smile as he comes to stand before me, clad in an impeccable white suit.

“Hi, Max,” I say, trying not to sound too cold. After all, he’s been nothing but nice to me.

“Isn’t it a lovely evening?”

“It is.”

“Would you do me the honor of taking a walk with me?”

For a second, I just look at him, still feeling like I just don’t have it in me, to talk toanyone, let alone him. I seem to no longer know who I am, what I want, what’s wrong with me… What could I tell him?

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