HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 42

Glancing up at the mirror, Lilith still found it baffling that she had not strung the pieces together until it was too late. Everything was so obvious now that she recognized the problem. Literally, her obtuseness stared her in the face, as if mocking her.

She went back to closing her eyes. It did not make her feel better. She tried rubbing her temples, but it was awkward massaging the right side of her head with her left hand; she could not quite get her fingers to mimic the angle and motions. After several futile attempts at deriving relief, she gave up. It wasn't like she could stay here all night, anyway.

With a deep breath, and gritting her teeth, Lilith stood. She succeeded in not making a sound all right, but it was still a minute before she dared move again. Maneuvering herself out of the stall, and then washing her hand were feats of their own. The only saving grace was that her grimaces had no witnesses.

Outside, the banquet had progressed into a dance, and since Lilith had sworn to abstain, she used the opportunity to visit the ladies. It was just a pretext. She needed to be alone. She needed somewhere she didn't have to pretend her arm wasn't throbbing like no tomorrow and her head didn't pound more viciously every second. Somehow, it was through this that she realized she must have, together with her appetizers, regurgitated her medication. Three rounds of Projectiles later—they had all adopted Ptolemy's self-proclaimed moniker for the "magical" potion that enabled them to feast limitlessly—she was paying for having stubbornly ignored the signs.

When Lilith emerged from the empty powder room, however, she was convinced she looked normal, with her cheeks blushed, her concealer touched up, and her left hand toying at the chain of her purse like she was shopping along the Corso. As casually as she could, she strolled towards the bar, but was soon making a beeline for it.

The same boy—Titus, she now knew, who was not only handy with spirits but had a keen eye for fashion (he had identified her TGRS)—spotted her approach and automatically produced a champagne flute, preparing to fill it with "gin." Could she blame him? It was precisely what she had asked for every time she appeared, since posca-laced punch, which she had had much too much of as well, was freely available at the buffet table.

"Oh, no," said Lilith hurriedly, waving her hand in dismissal. "That's not what I came for."

Titus gave her a curious look, and Lilith swallowed. He waited patiently as she dithered, though, and if his expression had been any less benign, she would never have capitulated.

Quietly, Lilith asked, "You won't happen to have something warm, would you?"

"For example?"

"Tea?"

"What kind?"

"Honeysuckle?"

"I'll have to look for it," said Titus, not in any patronizing manner, but as he restored the flute below the counter, his bartender smile was back, and his dark eyes focused somewhere over her shoulder. "Another Merlot, sir?"

"I don't think so, no."

The answering voice made Lilith feel like her insides had frozen over, which she ought to have found amusing, since Snow had descended on her, but she was far too stressed to appreciate any sort of humour.

A midnight blue sleeve, set off by a crisp white cuff adorned with a monogrammed cufflink—a cursive gold 'S' decorated the circular white gilded enamel—reached out and placed a wine glass containing residual light purple liquid onto the granite surface. Then the rest of him drew level with her.

"I'll take a brandy. On the rocks." Snow turned suddenly toward her. "Can I get you anything, Lilith?"

Struggling to subdue her inner panic, Lilith did not meet his gaze but stared at the pale pink rosebud pinned to his lapel as she bowed her head deferentially.