Page 77 of House of Lilith

He comes to block my way, his frown having grown deeper. “I don’t care,” he hisses at me, raising a clenched fist to his stomach without taking his eyes off me. “I never should’ve let you hang out with that asshole. Those shifters, they’re all bloody lowlifes.”

Normally, I’d just roll my eyes at him. Now, all I want to do is cry. “Yeah, whatever,” I say and I move to push past him, again.

Andagain, he blocks my way, this time taking my upper arm into his grip. “There are people out there watching these games,” he starts through gritted teeth, “importantpeople. We’re trying to sell the land to them and you’re behaving like a fucking madwoman right in front of their eyes.”

I barely register what he calls me. “The land?” I demand. “You’re trying to sell my land?”

“Ourland, Nyx,” he reminds me.

Well, technically, it’s not, I think to myself. Father left it to me and me only. But I don’t say anything.

I just break my arm free, my heart cracking in my chest, and I run out of the Common Room. I hear him call after me, but I don’t even turn around.

*

I close the door behind me, my mind buzzing and my muscles clenched. The silence and the privacy of the portrait room is so complete, so welcoming, at first it feels downright odd.

But no one’s ever found me here. And no one ever will.

I let my body slide down to the floor and I fix my eyes on Lady X. It brings a certain relief, seeing her looking the same as always, observing me from the soft shadows of her picture-perfect, secluded garden.

But the relief is short lived. The shock, the anger, the deep, deep sadness, they all come rushing back up to the surface, making me hug my legs and lay my forehead on my knees in search of comfort in darkness.

Forget, I tell myself, just forget.

But the images of the look in Max’s eyes refuse to desert me, and so does the ghostly grip of his hand on my aching wrist.

“You’ve fucking ruined yourself.”

The words dig into me and they burn and they burn, clawing themselves deeper and deeper, until all I can do to stop myself from reaching for my knife is bite my lip until it bleeds.

Serves me right, I guess. And as soon as I think that, it’s as if the sadness dissipates and I look up and I fix my eyes on Lady X again, a joyless, desperate smile on my lips.

“Serves me right to think I can drop the act for even a second, right?” I ask her.

No reply. Just that meek, subservient look in her eyes.

It makes me start to fume, my breathing becoming heavier as I keep staring at her, more intently by the second.

“I know, yeah,” I tell her, bitterness lacing my every word, “you would’ve done it so much better than I did. If they’d even let you participate in the Games. You would’ve gasped and asked for assistance, been the perfect damsel in distress, right? And afterwards, your fiance would beam at you, telling you how proud you’ve made him. And then you’d ride off into the sunset with him, yeah?” I pause, breathing heavily. “Or would you?”

No reply.

“Tell me what you’d do,” I insist through gritted teeth.

Still, nothing.

“What about the land?” I demand as I spring onto my feet. “What would you do about the land that your father left you? Would you just keep going, changing from morning to evening dress as they take away piece by piece of your heart? You would, wouldn’t you? Just like they all did, just like they all do, turning blind eyes to much worse than that, wining and dining with children dying outside their gilded gates, am I right, Lady X?”

For a second, I think I’ve caught a glimpse of something in her eyes.

But she just keeps looking at me, all docile and smiling.

“Am I fucking right, you stupid fucking bitch?”I demand as I take a step closer and I slam a fist into her face, as if she’s a living and breathing being, as ifshe’sthe enemy.

Once again, no reply. I let my fist slide down the painting, my teeth gritted.

“Ourland, Nyx,” I hear my brother’s voice in my head.

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