CH 11 - Lily

LILY POV Someone was shaking me. Not gently. Not cruelly either, just persistently, like I was already late for something I hadn’t agreed to attend. “Princess,” a voice whispered close to my ear. “It’s time.” I opened my eyes to a ceiling I had stared at for eight years and still never felt belonged to me. Pale gold panels. Carved vines. Everything too perfect. For a second I didn’t know what day it was. Then it hit me. My last day of freedom. The day before my eighteenth birthday. Midnight tonight. And I gritted my teeth, because, deep down, I already knew nothing would change. I won’t be a fae, I won’t be a wolf. I would just prove to the entire freaking court I was the broken princess they all knew I was from the very start. “I need coffee,” I muttered, pushing myself up. “You’ll have peach tea,” Marisol said softly from beside the bed. “It’s light. The Queen’s orders.” Of course it was. I didn’t argue. I didn’t have the energy. Two more attendants entered before I even swung my legs off the bed. Curtains were pulled back. Light flooded the room. My robe was replaced before I fully stood upright. The day had already started without asking me. Queen Petunia dearest loved to mess with my sanity on normal daily basis. Today? I bet she was going all out. Marisol and another fae I hadn’t seen before led me to the bathing room like I was ceremonial glass. I was not. I was a mess of curls and silent rage and sleep. Warm water waited in a marble basin infused with oils that smelled like honey and citrus and something faintly metallic underneath. My robe slipped from my shoulders. Hands were already there. Efficient. Obnoxious. I couldn’t even bath myself today apparently. I stared at the wall while they worked. Washed my hair. Massaged perfumed oils into my skin. Scrubbed my arms like they were polishing something meant to be displayed. No one spoke unless necessary. No one asked how I felt. Because how I felt did not matter. What mattered was whether something would happen tonight. Whether I would shift. Whether I would glow. Whether I would prove them right. Or wrong. I inhaled sharply and prayed that the Queen had at least the decency of giving an invitation to the only true friend I ever had. Luna Kai. But I knew chances were low, she hated Wolves with a visceral fury. Even if Kai and been the one to save me, toghether with the one who we’ll call from now on “the traitorious liar”. Prince Simon. Peach tea was placed in my hands while someone combed through my damp hair. It was too sweet. It coated my tongue and did nothing to settle the hollow in my stomach. I hadn’t eaten. Apparently queens-to-be didn’t need solid food on important days. My reflection stared back at me in the mirror as they applied creams, powders, faint gold dust across my collarbones. I looked… expensive. Not powerful. Not confident. Just prepared. Prepared to be judged. Prepared to be measured. Prepared to be shoved into Samuel’s lap without a second guess. The door opened without warning. Mother. Queen Petunia the Third did not raise her voice when she entered a room. Ever. Or gods forbid smile, greet her own daughter with a ‘good morning sweetie’ nope. Nothing . She didn’t need to. The air shifted on its own and my stomach dropped like it always did. The attendants straightened immediately. She moved toward me slowly, examining every detail like she was inspecting a political treaty instead of her daughter. “You look pale,” she said. “I haven’t eaten all day” I replyed, thinking that a normal mother, a caring mother, would have been horrifyed. “You shouldn’t. Not yet.” Not yet. Her fingers lifted my chin, tilting my face toward the light. Her eyes searched mine like she was looking for something beneath the surface. “Do you feel anything?” she asked. There it was. Not are you nervous. Not are you excited. Do you feel anything. Magic. Shift. Change. Difference. I searched my body for something dramatic. A surge. A hum. A warning. Nothing. Just my heart beating too fast. “No,” I said. I watched it happen, just like every single time we had this conversation. The smallest change in her expression. The tightness around her mouth. The fraction of a second where hope dimmed before she forced composure back into place. “Perhaps it will come later,” she said smoothly. Perhaps. The attendants resumed their work, hiding the sharky smiles and biting their tongues. The broken princess. Until the very last day. I clenched my fists, I had already disappointed her and the day hadn’t even begun. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You understand how important tonight is.” “Yes.” “The court needs reassurance.” “I know.” “And Samuel—” My stomach tightened at his name. “He is prepared,” she continued. “He is strong. He will support you.” Support. Or use. I thought of Samuel’s smile. His dimples. The way he had said my future wife like he had already rehearsed it in his head. I didn’t hate him. Couldn’t even find him spitiful like I thought I would. For Gods’ sake he was the Grinch’s son. And still, he couldn’t be more different. That was the problem. He wasn’t slimy like his father. He wasn’t cruel. He was confident. Grounded. Too sure of himself. He was hot too. He wanted me. Not just the throne. Me. And I didn’t know what to do with that. “And the ambassador?” my mother added casually, but not casually enough. My head snapped slightly before I could stop it. Had I been too lost in my own damn mind and didn’t hear an important information? “What about him?” “He arrived yesterday. Have you Greethed him for his good job with the mutts? I heard that you crossed paths” Of course she knew. “Yes,” I said carefully. “And?” There was something in her eyes I didn’t like. Calculation. Suspicion. “He seemed…” I searched for the right word. “Busy.” Yep, busy glaring at me and Samuel. Didn’t tell that part though. Her lips pressed thin. “He has a reputation.” “Has he?.” I hadn’t been able to shake his stare since last night. The way his jaw had been set. The way his fists had looked like they were holding back something violent. The way his eyes had locked on me like I was something he recognized. It had unsettled me more than Samuel’s confidence ever could. “Just…Stay away from him,” my mother said softly. “I wasn’t planning on running toward him.” Her gaze sharpened. “Lily.” “I know,” I said quickly. But even as I said it, the memory of that icy glare burned in the back of my mind. Not disgust. Not judgment. Something else. Something almost— No. Stop. ‘We’re not going to think about the traitorious liar once again.’ As if this pep talk would ever last. They finished dressing me in layers of silk and pale gold that felt heavier than they looked. My hair was twisted and pinned until it no longer felt like mine. Jewelry clasped around my throat and wrists. I looked like a crown waiting to be worn. My mother stepped back to observe the final result. “Beautiful,” she said. The word landed flat. “Remember,” she added quietly, stepping close enough that only I could hear, “if you feel anything—anything at all—you tell me immediately.” I nodded. But inside, something bitter curled. What if I felt nothing? What if midnight came and went and I remained exactly as I was? Would she still look at me like I belonged here? Or would she look at me the way she had just now—measured and almost disappointed? Samuel’s smile flickered in my thoughts. The ambassador’s glare followed right behind it. Two very different men. One promising stability. One promising chaos. And somewhere between them, me. Midnight was coming. And for the first time in eight years, I wasn’t just afraid of disappointing the court. I was afraid of what I was going to unleash or not at midnight.