Page 34 of House of Lilith

“Ugh,” I groan. And I roll my eyes and I shake my head, but then I nod. “But I’m only doing it this once. The rest of the year, it’s just you and your Fiáin Academy buddy.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he exclaims. And he literally bounces up and down with delight, making me blow a laugh through my nose.

“Okay, fucker, leave then,” I tell him with a smile.

“Will do,” he replies and starts rushing away, only craning his neck to throw, “His name is Howe and he’ll be waiting for you by the Brothers Grimm statue.”

Alright then, I think as he disappears out of the Common Room. If I’m efficient, I’ll probably be able to get this over with even before Max shows up.

*

As I leave the Common Room for the Entrance Hall — where the Brothers Grimm statue is — I walk by the tall, gilded mirror hanging on the wall just before the archway leading to the staircase.

And I normally don’t throw a single glance in its direction, but today is different. Because it just now occurs to me that this will be the first time I’m going somewhere with Max in the official fiance capacity.

So before I start making my way down the stairs, I pause in front of the mirror, just for a second. I don’t let myself linger on my reflection. It’s good enough, I think as I drag my eyes down my dress.

It’s good enough, I keep trying to convince myself as I tear myself away from the mirror and force myself to keep walking.

And step by step, I’m making my way down to the Elevator Door waiting on the ground floor of the tower. But the image of me as I saw myself in the mirror keeps haunting me.

Even the perfectly tailored burgundy dress with the detailing in Robin-egg blue can’t hide how little I resemble your usual princess. My body is hopelessly curveless and my face persistently tomboyish.

I reach the Elevator and I go in, pressing the button for the Entrance Hall. And I do manage to fight the urge to conjure up images to torture myself with, images of all the other Princesses, each more beautiful and feminine than the last.

But what Idon’tmanage to fight off is the image of Max, drunk at some party I can no longer remember properly, talking about one of them as if she were the embodiment of fucking perfection. Her and her huge tits. I asked him, once the party was over, if he liked them more than he liked mine. And he said of course not, but he hesitated a little.

So when the Elevator Door opens, I’m still self-conscious and a little grumpy.

I step out, the sound of my boots clicking against the polished stone floor getting drowned out by many others. I keep walking towards my destination, scanning the faces all around me as I go.

I slow to a stop as soon as I spot him.

That alpha standing among the buzzing students, leaned against the statue with one boot casually lifted to the lowest step. He’s typing on his phone, the muscles in those big tattooed arms flexed in a way that evokes images of deadly weapons.

But there’s a tag on his shirt that my eyes get drawn to. I zero in on it. Howe, it says Howe.

Of course that Nikolay would get the alpha assigned to him. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I curse as I suddenly become even more self-conscious, with the stupid dress and the stupid body and the stupid face.

For a second, I consider turning on my heel and walking away.

But then he looks up, as if he’s sensed me watching, and he tears himself away from the statue, his head tilting as he slides his phone in his pocket and keeps standing there, looking at me.

I find myself moving toward him again. And this might not be pleasant for either of us, I think as I see his eyebrows pull down in what has to be irritation. After all, we haven’t exactly started off on the right foot.

But what’s done is done, I guess. And he’s a guest here and I need to make him feel welcome, I think to myself as I keep approaching him. So I force myself to shake it off and smile, however tensely.

*

When I come to stand in front of him, I see his frown disappear, but it doesn’t make me feel any less nervous because he’s still observing me too intently, his head tilted in a silent question.

Without ever consciously making the decision, I choose to ignore our first interaction ever even happened. “Hi,” I say, “I’ve been sent to show you around.” And I hold my hand out for a shake. “I’m Anastasya, nice to meet you.”

Why did I do that? Ihatethat name.

For a second, I think he’s going to say, “Yeah, we’ve already met.”

And his eyes narrow, but then a smile tugs at his lips and he takes my hand, saying, “Dahrian Howe. The pleasure’s all mine.”

---