Kneeling before me, she tilts her slender neck up and gazes at me with a soft smile touching her lips.
But it’s her eyes that capture me—deep brown, and sparkling with an inner light. The skin crinkles at the edges of her eyes and she looks at me not unkindly, but rather like we share a secret.
“I do the exact same thing,” she states. “Overpacking, that is. I don’t regularly participate in suitcase explosions. More along the lines of sitting on my bag so that it can be zipped shut, all while hoping nothing inside is damaged.”
In that one moment, it feels like we are truly connected. No one else stands in the lobby with us; it’s just me and her and my rapidly pounding heart sharing a common experience.
“I’m Khatak,” I tell her. “A guest here at the hotel. I have a booking…”
Of course, that much is obvious. Who else travels to a hotel such as this one with full luggage, without checking in? What kind of weirdo would just hang around a public place like this otherwise?
“Hi, Khatak.” She says my name, practically in a whisper. It’s as if it’s for my ears alone, breathy and full of smiles and sunshine.
“I’m Selene.” She hands me an item, her small fingers brushing mine and lingering. Warmth spreads up my arm as my fingers curl around the device. “I’m one of the staff here helping coordinate the latest events and activities.”
And just like that, the illusion shatters. She’s not talking to me because she’s interested in me, but because it’s her assigned role. I realize that her shirt bears the hotel logo.
“And you are now checked in,” Selene tells me, fingers tapping away at her data pad. “Did you, ah, want some help navigating the Halloween activities?” she asks, looking up at me expectantly.
Halloween. I glance around at the strange decorations with new understanding—this is all for one of the fabled events this hotel has become known for—and yet, I’m still rather confused about what it all means. “I have to admit, I’m not familiar with this Halloween.”
Why am I still talking? I sound like a complete idiot, not someone smart or self-assured. Or knowledgeable. I’m a complete disaster. In front of someone likeher.
“Oh!” Her expression shifts to something more animated. “Right, let me explain. Halloween is a human custom. Basically a celebration where we dress up, carve vegetables, and do scary things.”
I blink at her. “You... celebrate being frightened?”
“Well, when you put it that way, it does sound weird.” She laughs, and the sound is dangerously pleasant, a tingling chime to my ears. “It ties into a lot of historical and cultural stuff, but that’s a lot to go into. For most people, it’s about having fun with fear. Making it silly instead of serious. That’s what we are doing here this week. We have activities planned—pumpkin carving, bobbing for apples, a haunted house tour, and more.”
Her hands wave to encompass the yellow and orange gourds that I may have had a hand in knocking over with my escaped underwear.
“You carved one of these gourds with the faces?” I ask.
“Not me, but my friends did. I haven’t had the chance yet,” she tells me. “But if you join the activities, you’ll get to carve one yourself. It’s very therapeutic.” She pauses, tilting her head. “Do Volscians celebrate anything similar?”
“We have the Festival of Blades, but that involves actual combat, so probably not the same thing.” I gesture at the hanging fabrics. “And these are...?”
“Ghosts. Spirits of the dead. Very spooky.” She makes her voice low and wavering on the last word, clearly teasing.
“The dead,” I repeat slowly. “You decorate with representations of corpses.”
“Okay, yeah… Maybe Halloween doesn’t translate well.” Her smile slides from her face, and immediately I regret my words. She should be smiling, always.
“No, no, it’s...” I scramble for the right words. I can’t offend her. Can’t make her think I’m dismissing her culture, or herself. “It’s interesting. Different. I’m looking forward to learning more about it.”
Smooth recovery. My brother would be proud. Actually, no, he wouldn’t.
“We’ll have someone assigned to guide you through all the events,” Selene tells me. “Let me check the roster and?—”
“You?” The word bursts out before I can stop it.
She blinks. “I’m sorry?”
She hesitates, something apologetic crossing her face. “I appreciate that, but I’m actually Rist’s personal assistant. I really should be available in case he needs me, and coordinating guest activities isn’t really part of my?—”
“Rist.” The name escapes before I can stop it, too sharp, too interested. Rist… as in Prince Rist? The very male I’ve come here seeking.
Her eyebrows lift slightly.
