Page 85 of You’re So Vein

GET HERE NOW.

“YOU LOOK HANDSOME,” HANNAH DECLARES. “Like a fairytale prince.”

I frown at the mirror. I’m wearing a suit with a line of rhinestones along the seams and around the pocket, courtesy of Hannah and Komal.

If I’m the prince in a fairytale, it’s the one where the prince is a frog. That’s certainly how Komal sees me. How else could you explain that she hasn’t spoken to me since the debate, even though she’s been hanging out with Hannah while I’ve been asleep?

I force myself not to acknowledge the warmth that spreads through my chest every time I picture them spending time together.

Meanwhile, I can’t wash Komal’s taste from my lips.

My fingers ache for the warmth of her skin, and my fangs tingle at the prospect of the hot blood that pulses beneath.

Hannah spins me around, smoothing down the back of my jacket, checking for lint, adjusting my lapels.

“Why do you care so much about how I look tonight?” I ask.

“Because Komal’s going to be there, obviously. I made you something.” She skips off to fetch it, calling to me from somewhere deeper in the cottage. “The invitation said that the party is masquerade themed. Everyone is supposed to wear a costume that depicts something from Upyr history or folklore.”

Ah, yes, Arabella’s flattery idea. Make the event a celebration of vampire greatness, so the Conclave is more positively inclined to make changes.

“The invite also said costumes were optional,” I call after Hannah, worry settling in my gut. I’d feel more comfortable in my black Saman Amel suit. I locked it in a secret compartment under my bed so it wouldn’t be bedazzled.

Hannah returns, carrying a wreath made from woven rowan branches, moss, and some of my favourite night-flowering blooms. Long antlers curl from the sides, and a small deer skull sits in the centre, surrounded by leaves and berries the colour of blood.

“Every prince needs a crown,” she says. “You can be Herne the Hunter.”

I take the wreath, admiring it. In vampire myth, Herne the Hunter was an antlered man who haunts the forests, not unlike me. Some believe he was the cursed child of a vampire and a werewolf, abandoned as a baby in the woods, but he survived to terrorise lonely travellers and farmers’ herds.

I rest the wreath on my head. The antlers curl around my ears before extending outward into sharp, red-tipped points. It gives the rhinestones a sinister air. I look dangerous.

What will Komal think?

I squeeze Hannah’s hand. “I love the horns. I’ll wear them proudly.”

“Good. Just go sideways through doorways, or you’ll get stuck. Are you sure I can’t go tonight?”

“You have no idea how much I wish you could, but with so many vampires and so much blood around, it’s just too dangerous—”

“I know, I know. I want to see photos.” She shoves her hands on her hips. “Not like the time you went to the library Halloween party and conveniently went to the bathroom during the group pictures.”

I’d hoped she’d forgotten about that. The mushroom costume Hannah made for me for the annual party fit a little, er… snugly. I’d spent half the night hiding and hoping no one had seen any part of me they didn’t wish to.

I’ll enjoy being Herne the Hunter tonight. It’ll be nice to wear someone else’s skin for a change, to be someone other than Augustin Durant. Even if that someone wears antler horns and a rhinestone-studded suit.

I make certain the crown is on straight, kiss Hannah on the head, and the two of us head out. I don’t like to leave her alone with the husker on the loose, so I’m grateful Reginald has offered to look after her for the evening. She’s excited to play with Alaric’s cat, Mirabelle, in a grand castle.

As we reach the top of the woodland path, Reginald’s vintage Ford careens around the corner and jerks to a stop, the passengers jerking forward from whiplash. Reginald turns down his R&B playlist and shoves open the passenger door. “Come on up, lass!” He pats the seat beside him. Hannah gets in. At least there’s a seatbelt up front.

It takes me three attempts to angle my head correctly so I can climb in the back with Alaric and Winnie. Winnie’s face looks a little green.

“If your horns damage any part of my car, expect my vengeance to be swift and violent,” warns Reginald as he jerks the car into motion, sounding more sinister than I’ve ever heard him.

“You’ve been working for Alaric for too long,” I say.

“What’s wrong with your face? Did you lose a battle with a hedgerow?” Alaric frowns at my wreath. He’s wearing his blackened suit of armour, because of course. Every time he moves, he sounds like a dishwasher on the pots and pans cycle. Beside him, Winnie’s dressed in an emerald-green gown with a medieval veil over her face.

“Ignore him. You look incredible, a god of the forest.” Winnie pats my arm. “Komal is going to flip when she sees you.”