Chapter 17 – Billie
Seventeen
BILLIE
The door slams behind me with enough force to rattle the ridiculous crystal knobs, and I want to punch something.
Preferably Prince Caelyx's stupidly perfect face for having the audacity to skip class today when I spent all night steeling myself for seeing him again.
Apparently being royalty means you can just fuck off whenever you feel like it, leaving the rest of us mortals to suffer through lectures on "The Proper Way to Accept Courtship Gifts" and "Omega Postures: Submission as an Art Form."
My shoulder throbs where I slammed it into a doorframe trying to dodge Brittany and her posse in the hallway.
The bruise from the stair incident has bloomed into a spectacular purple-green masterpiece across my hip.
But at least I survived another day without accidentally murdering anyone or blowing my cover.
It's the little things that count.
Olivia sits at her vanity, surrounded by enough beauty products to stock a small boutique. She's got three different textbooks open, somehow managing to take notes while applying what looks like her fifteenth coat of mascara. The efficiency would be impressive if it wasn't so fucking over the top.
Honestly, it's still kind of impressive.
"Do you mind?" she snaps without looking up. "Some of us actually care about our grades."
I drop my bag on my bed with more force than necessary. "Didn't say anything, Princess."
"Your breathing is distracting."
"Sorry my continued existence offends you." I pull out my own textbooks, trying not to think about how behind I already am. Turns out twenty years of hunter training doesn't prepare you for writing essays on pheromones. Who fucking knew?
The invitation Tallon gave me is still taking up residence in my bag and the foremost of my thoughts. I've been turning it over in my mind all day, weighing the risks against the potential rewards.
Going alone would be suspicious. Omegas travel in packs as much as shifters do, always surrounded by their little cliques and hierarchies.
A lone omega at a party thrown by the Golden Triad? Might as well paint a target on my back.
What I need is a human shield.
I glance at Olivia, who's now moved on to contouring her already perfect cheekbones with a brush that looks like a fan. She hates me, but she hates me less than most of the other omegas on campus. And she's exactly the type who'd jump at the chance to get close to the Triad.
"You doing anything tonight?" I ask, aiming for casual.
She freezes mid-brushstroke. "Why do you care?"
"Just wondering." I pull out the black envelope, turning it over in my hands. "Thought you might want to go to a party."
"There are no parties tonight." She finally deigns to look at me, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I would know. I know about every event on this campus."
"Apparently not this one."
The temperature in the room drops about ten degrees. Olivia swivels on her ridiculous pink tufted stool, giving me her full attention for the first time since we became roommates. "What party?"
I shrug. "Just some thing Tallon invited me to."
The mascara wand clatters to the floor.
"Tallon?" Her voice goes up an octave. "As in Tallon Fairfax?"
"I think so?" I hold up my hand, counting off on my fingers. "Tall, pretty guy with green eyes and sandy brown hair? Shoulders you could use as a landing strip?"
"You're lying." But her eyes are locked on the envelope in my hands like it's made of solid gold.
"Check for yourself if you don't believe me." I toss the invitation onto her vanity, watching as she picks it up with trembling fingers.
The seal on the envelope starts to glow the moment she touches it, golden light pulsing. Olivia's face goes through about twenty different emotions in the span of three seconds.
"That's..." She swallows hard. "That's the prince's personal seal."
"Is it?" I lean back on my bed, trying to project an air of complete indifference. "Huh."
"How did you get this?" She's holding the invitation like it's going to shatter. "I've been here all semester. Tallon Fairfax has never even looked in my direction."
"Ran into him outside the registrar's office. Literally." I pick at a loose thread on my comforter. "Not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" Olivia shrieks, and I'm pretty sure they heard her in the next building. "This is the biggest of deals! Do you not know who Tallon is?"
"Some guy with nice eyes?"
She looks like she might have an aneurysm. "He's Prince Corvinus's familiar! Part of the Golden Triad! One of the three hottest, most eligible alphas on this entire campus! In the entire universe!"
"Okay." I sit up, meeting her wild-eyed stare. "So does that mean you want to go to the party or not?"
Olivia's eyes narrow to slits. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. He said I could bring a friend." I gesture vaguely at our shared room. "I don't have any friends, and you seem to be the omega who hates me the least on campus, so I figured I'd offer."
"I hate you the least?" She wrinkles her button nose. "That's sad."
"Tell me about it." I stand, already regretting this entire conversation. "Forget it, I'll just go by myself."
"No!" She practically launches herself off the stool. "I'll go. Of course I'll go. Oh my gods, I have to get ready. We have to get ready. What are you wearing?"
I look down at my current outfit, a deep red dress that's probably the least offensive thing in my wardrobe by Fae standards. "This?"
The horror on her face is almost comical. "You cannot be serious."
"What? It's a dress." I spread my arms wide. "Everything I fucking own is a dress or a skirt. Against my will, I might add."
"You need something presentable!" She's already rushing toward my closet like a woman on a mission. "This is the biggest event we're going to get invited to all year. Maybe ever!"
I watch with mounting irritation as she starts frantically pawing through my clothes, tossing perfectly adequate dresses onto the floor like they've personally offended her.
"Nothing. You have nothing." She emerges from the closet looking genuinely distressed. "This is all trash."
"Gee, thanks. Really feeling the roomie love here."
"This is an emergency!" She starts pacing, hands fluttering like coked up butterflies. "The stores are closed, and it's not like you can wear anything of mine. My boobs are way bigger than yours."
I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of my skull. "It can't be that big of a deal. Tallon just said to wear whatever."
"And you believed him?" She stops pacing to stare at me in disbelief. "Are you even an omega?"
"Apparently," I mutter, crossing my arms.
Olivia sighs like she's been dealt a great burden and retreats into my closet.
After what feels like an eternity of fabric rustling and dramatic sighing, she emerges with a black dress from the Academy.
It was one of the least frilly options available, which means it's still ridiculous by my standards but apparently not ridiculous enough for whatever Olivia has in mind.
"This might work." She holds it up, squinting at it like she's trying to solve a complex mathematical equation. "With the right accessories..."
Before I can protest, she's raiding her own closet, pulling out belts and jewelry and things I don't even have names for. The next thirty minutes are a blur of fabric and frustration as she transforms me into someone I don't recognize.
The dress, which had seemed perfectly adequate on its own, now clings in ways that make me hyperaware of every curve I usually try to hide. A silver belt cinches my waist, and she's done something with the neckline that makes my decidedly modest chest look... not modest.
The shoes are the worst part. Heels that could double as weapons if I angled them right, which is literally their only redeeming quality. Unfortunately, we wear the same shoe size.
I guess at least I can use the heels as a weapon if I have to.
"Stop fidgeting," Olivia commands, attacking my hair with a brush that feels like it's made of steel wool. "Beauty is pain."
"That's just something alphas made up to sell bullshit," I counter, but I let her work her magic because if this gets me closer to Prince Corvinus, I'll endure worse than a makeover from my prissy roommate.
When she finally steps back to admire her handiwork, the look of shock on her face is almost worth the torture. "You actually look... good. I'm a genius."
"Your shock is really doing wonders for my self-esteem."
She ignores me, already focused on her own transformation. The hot pink gown she chooses makes my retinas burn, but somehow she makes it work. Every inch of her screams "look at me," from the way the fabric shimmers with each movement to the heels that add a good four inches to her height.
Perfect. All the attention will be on her, and they won't notice me scouting out the weak points in Prince Corvinus's security detail.
The invitation glows softly in her hand as we make our way across campus, drawing stares and whispers from everyone we pass.
A group of omegas blocks our path near the fountain, and I recognize them as part of Isabella's outer circle. Not quite prestigious enough to be in her direct orbit, but close enough to do her dirty work. Like security cameras in tulle.
"Well, well." The one in front, a redhead with a smile sharp enough to give you tetanus, looks us up and down. "Where are you two going dressed like that?"
Olivia, apparently drunk on the possibility of social elevation, blurts out, "We got invited to a party by the Golden Triad!"
I want to strangle her. So much for keeping a low profile.
The redhead's laugh is like nails on a chalkboard. "The Triad? Inviting two little drabs like you? Please."
"It's true!" Olivia waves the invitation like a battle flag, and I have to resist the urge to snatch it away.