Page 69 of House of Lilith

“It would sound ridiculous.” I turn away from him and move to keep walking down the hall, exhaling a suppressed breath.

He darts around me, blocking my way. “All the best things do,” he says with a soft, encouraging smile.

I just look at him for a second. Then I roll my eyes, I let out a little laugh and I say, “I want to change the world.” When I see his eyebrows shoot up, I rush to add, “A small part of it at least.”

And I keep standing there, my breath bated as I wait for his reaction.

Without taking his eyes off me, he smiles and says, “I have a feeling you just might.”

And for one long moment, he keeps staring into my eyes and I keep staring into his.

Until it finally hits me, that we’re just fucking standing there, staring at each other, and I snap out of it, suddenly and painfully.

“Well,” I start, forcing myself to break the silence, “we make a good team, Max and I.”

There’s a flash of a frown in his eyes at the mention of my fiance’s name. He doesn’t like him. Unsurprisingly, considering how their last interaction went. “I know Max can seem…” I don’t finish the sentence. I blow out an awkward laugh instead.

Howe’s eyes narrow, his silence coupled with the piercing stare making me feel so self-conscious. “Yeah?” he finally asks.

“I know he can seem arrogant and whatnot, but he’s actually the best Prince we have right now.Also, he and I, we won’t be like all the other royal couples.”

“No?” he asks, softly but seriously.

“No,” I insist. “Unlike the other Princes, he’s marrying for love. He believes in me. He even bet on me staying in the Games until the end.”

Why do I feel like I’m explaining myself to him?

And then, instead of commenting on what I’ve just said, he just clears his throat, turns on his heel and throws me a look over his shoulder. “We’ll be late, won’t we?”

“Yeah,” I blurt out, blushing as I rush to catch up with him.

He’s picked up the pace, I notice. And soon, he’s moving to turn another corner.

“Nope,” I say, making him stop and turn to me. “Not that way.” I point at a service elevator to my right. “This way.”

We wait for the elevator and we ride in it, all in utter silence. I feel an urge to glance at him, to see if I’ve somehow made him mad. I resist it. I just let the elevator take us straight into the noisy, buzzing kitchens with exposed brick walls and polished brass cooking stations.

But once we step out, I fail to stop myself from looking over my shoulder, where he’s standing, dumbfounded, probably over the sheer size of the place.

“Fucking hell,” I see him say, or at least that’s what I think it was. I can barely hear him over all the clatter of utensils, simmering of water and shouts from one end of the room to the other, but it makes my lips curl into a smile.

“What?” I ask, having to raise my voice a little. “You thought the Winter Solstice Ball happens at the flick of a wand?”

He rolls his eyes at me, making me swallow a laugh.

I turn back and start marching between the cooking stations, my eyes drawn — as always — to the staff’s magic making wooden spoons stir, the spice jars season and the pancakes flip all on their own, no hands in sight.

I sense him catch up with me, asking, “Are we even allowed here?”

“Lady Romanov,” Brighid — one of my favorite sous chefs — calls out from one of the work stations to our left, throwing me a beaming smile as she motions at the pot in front of her.

I walk over to take a spoon and give it a taste. “Now how am I supposed to think about anything else for the rest of the day?” I ask her as I give the spoon back. Judging by the grin, she’s more than pleased by the reaction.

I turn to Howe. “What’re you waiting for? Or are you too posh to eat out of a pot?”

Shooting me a nasty look, he takes his own spoon and gives it a try. “Wow,” he says to Brighid, his mouth cracking into a grin, “makes me think I’ve never tasted real food before.”

Brighid lets out a little chuckle, throwing me the subtlest look telling me he’s charmed her, but it’s at that moment that I hear the Elevator open from the other side of the kitchen.

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