The Prince and His Girl

The Witches Hat

Lila's POV

Aunt Moira was unlike anyone I had ever met. She was short, but you hardly noticed—everything else about her was larger than life. Her long grey hair fell in tight ringlets to the middle of her back, her fingers were tipped in chipped black nail polish, and she wore layers of dramatic fabrics—velvets, silks, and beaded necklaces that clicked when she moved. Silver rings adorned nearly every finger, and matching earrings danced from her lobes.

She matched the mystery of the house perfectly.

“I hope you’re strong, Lila,” she said, smiling mischievously as we stopped in front of a rickety spiral staircase. The mint green paint was peeling, revealing rusted metal beneath. “I saved the best room for you—we call it the Watchtower. Best view in the house. Only one way in or out, though.”

She gave me an apologetic shrug, but her eyes sparkled with pride.

“I’ll be fine, Aunt Moira,” I said, already dragging my suitcase toward the first step. “Do you mind if I head up there now?”

“Not at all, I’ll give you a little tour,” she replied, cupping my chin affectionately before beginning the climb.

I followed, my suitcase thunking up each step, drawing attention from the stragglers in the lobby below. I picked up my pace, trying to avoid making a complete spectacle of myself.

“Tah-dah!” Moira exclaimed as we reached the top, spreading her arms wide like she was presenting a prize. “Fresh linens and everything. And your own bathroom’s through that door.”

“Thank you so much,” I breathed. Phew. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of sharing a bathroom with strangers.

“No need to thank me, you’re family,” Moira said warmly. “I left you a few things on the bedside table—wifi password, maps, bits and bobs. Take your time, shower, unpack. Come down when you’re ready.”

She wrapped me in a quick hug before turning to descend the stairs. “No rush, sweetheart.”

As she disappeared, I took in the room properly for the first time. It was outdated but beautiful. Completely round, except for the wall with the bathroom door. There were two large windows—one looking out over the long, tree-lined driveway, the other opening onto the forest behind the hostel. A big wooden sleigh bed was nestled against the curved wall, and a squishy-looking couch sat at the foot of it. Beside the bed was a small wardrobe and a vintage bedside table with a glowing salt lamp and a stack of folded maps.

I exhaled slowly. It was strange… but it already felt like mine.

I began unpacking, neatly hanging my clothes in the wardrobe and tucking my shoes into the corner. Curious, I opened the bathroom door and was met with a small, clean space tiled in dusty pink. Even the sink and toilet were a matching blush.

I laughed. “The seventies must’ve been wild.”

A hot shower sounded like heaven, so I peeled off my clothes and stepped under the spray, surprised at how good the water pressure was. I let the water pound down on my back, trying to relax into it, letting the last few days melt away. When I finally emerged, I reached for one of the fluffy towels Moira had left which barely wrapped around me.

“Great,” I muttered, clutching the towel tightly around my chest. Thank God I didn’t have to share the bathroom.

I cracked open the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom. Steam billowed around me, obscuring my vision for a second.

And then—standing right in the middle of my room—was Tobi.

He was frozen, staring at me, mouth slightly open.

I screamed, spinning around and darting back into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind me, echoing off the tiled walls.

“Tobi!” I shouted through the door, panic and mortification blending in my throat. “What the hell are you doing in my room?!”

I could hear his low chuckle through the wood.

“You left your phone in the taxi. I was just bringing it back. Moira told me to come up.”

“Thanks,” I said, my voice high and tight. “Can you just leave it on the bed and get out?”

“I did knock. You didn’t answer.”

I pressed my ear to the door, waiting in silence until his footsteps faded down the stairs. Only then did I peek out, rush to lock the door, and finally get dressed in peace. I pulled on a pair of distressed jeans and a loose white cotton shirt, then tied my damp hair up into a high ponytail. A quick spritz of perfume, some lip gloss, and I was ready to face the world… or at least my eccentric aunt and whoever else lived in this magical madhouse.

“Lila, honey!” Moira called as I entered the reception area. “Did you get your phone from that nice man—Tobi, I think he said his name was? So polite. And handsome. If I were twenty years younger...”

I laughed awkwardly. “I did, thanks.”

“Enough with the ‘Aunt’ business—just call me Moira. You ready for the rest of the tour?”

“Lead the way.”

“Great! Well, this is the ground floor—reception’s here, obviously. That’s where you’ll work. And the front room’s been converted into a café. Just small bites and drinks, but it’s the best coffee in town.”

I made a mental note to test that theory first thing in the morning. Moira guided me through a loop of the first floor. The space had a mismatched charm—eclectic furniture, retro couches, Moroccan rugs, abstract paintings, and shelves overflowing with old hardbacks and strange trinkets. Everything looked like it had a story. I picked up a carved wooden wolf with amber eyes and turned it over in my hands.

“All my guests leave me something from their hometown,” Moira explained. “A little tradition.”

She waved me on, leading me up to the next level.

“This is the first floor—girls’ dorms. Four rooms, ten bunks each. Showers are at the end of the hall. Second floor’s the same, but for the boys. I’ve got the top floor to myself, and there’s a storage room up there too.”

“So… this place can fit eighty people?” I asked, impressed.

“When we’re full, yeah. But usually we average about sixty.”

We descended again, this time into the basement. I expected more of the same quirky, antique vibe—but was met with something totally different. The basement was sleek. Polished concrete, steel benches, bright fluorescent lights. It looked like a commercial kitchen, not part of an old mansion.

“This is our shared kitchen,” Moira said. “Label any food you leave in the fridge—if it’s not labeled, it’ll be tossed at the end of the day.”

She pointed to a door near the sinks. “That’s the laundry room. Best time to use it is early morning. Gets crazy in the afternoons.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I said. “I’ll remember that.”

We made our way back upstairs.

“I’ll show you what you’ll be doing at reception,” she said, linking her arm through mine.

When we reached the desk again, someone was waiting. A slim guy about my height, with short dark hair, bright blue eyes, and skin so pale he looked like he lived under moonlight. He wore tartan pants, black boots, and a fitted band tee. Very punk, very cool.

“Henry, what do you need?” Moira asked, hurrying behind the counter.

“Just after the wifi password,” he said, flashing her a smile that made it clear he wasn’t just a passing guest.

Moira handed him a slip of paper. “Here you go, dear.”

“Thanks.” His eyes slid to me. “Who’s this pretty girl you’re hiding behind the counter?”

“This is my niece from back home,” Moira said. “She’ll be working here for a while. Make sure you show her around Lenweil, will you?”

The phone rang and she answered quickly, leaving me alone with him.

“Hi, I’m Lila,” I said, extending my hand over the counter.

“Henry.” He shook it, grinning. “Where’re you from?”

“Forreston,” I replied with a shrug. “It’s tiny. Pretty boring.”

“Never heard of it,” he said. “Do you like going out? Lenweil’s a big drinking town.”

I thought of the night I drank too much at Colin’s party—and how I still didn’t know how I got home.

“I’ve only drunk once,” I admitted, smiling. “Still don’t remember how I made it home. But hey—I’m a quick learner.”

Henry laughed. “Oh, I like you.”

Moira held the phone to her chest. “Henry I have to keep the boys off her or I’m dead. My sister will kill me.”

Henry winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll help keep her reputation intact.”

He wandered over to one of the plush armchairs, plopping down and pulling out his phone.