Page 135 of Revenant

41: Alicent

“I can’t believe they do this every year,” I tell Moriah. When she doesn’t respond, I look over at her and notice her eyes are glued to the ground, not even attempting to look at the booths as we pass. “Is everything okay?” She’s been kind of off since we got here. I’ve tried not to mention it, but I feel like she could start crying any second. Which is no problem for me—gotta let your emotions out and all that—I’m just not sure if she’d appreciate the entire quad being privy to her mental breakdown.

“It just sucks.” Her voice carries a sadness I’m not used to hearing. “Seeing all of the opportunities and futures that everyone gets the chance to achieve, knowing I don’t get that choice.”

“Don’t the men of the family run the business? Why can’t you just do what you want?” The prejudice within this whole wolf pack thing is crazy. “You’re literally the daughter of an Alpha, I think you should hold more power than any of those imbeciles with a thoughtless head swinging between their legs.”

Her smile is soft but doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s not that simple. If it was…I’d be grabbing every pamphlet I could carry and getting the hell out of here.” I know without a doubt she isn’t kidding. Her brother tried to kill her for god’s sake, and I know if she tried to leave, they would just hunt her down.

“Since I don’t get any real stake in the family business, my job is to marry. Preferably someone in the pack already, so we don’t have to bring in any newcomers, but if I don’t decide by the time I’m twenty-two, my father will arrange it. Said husband is supposed to take my place at the table essentially. Meanwhile, I’m basically a trophy wife, not wanting for anything else in life.”

The admission is hard to hear. Her entire life is mapped out for her, and she doesn’t even get a say. “Why twenty-two? That seems absurd.”

Moriah doesn’t answer for a beat, the silence stretching for what feels like an eternity. She gulps like the word is lodged in her throat, a look of disgust smearing over her face. “Pups.” She fake gags at the mention of children and I can’t help but laugh.

“That’s so many shades of fucked up. How could they expect—”

“It’s just how things are,” she interrupts, her tone slowly going from amusement to somber in the matter of a syllable. I didn’t realize how deep the claws of the pack are embedded in her, or maybe I’ve been too focused on all my own issues to clearly see or even know about hers. I decide to let it be, not wanting to push her further and add fuel to the fire.

The steps toward the blood drive booth are silent, but it’s as if everything that’s not being said between us is being transmitted through the cobblestone, and somehow they’re the loudest things I’ve ever heard. It pains me to see her this way, like the world is crumbling around her, and there isn’t anything anyone can do to stop it.

“Are you both donating today?” A woman’s voice breaks through, stunning me to a halt. I hadn’t even realized my feet carried me here, or maybe I was subconsciously following Moriah. She has on a typical name tag, one that says Hello, my name is, with the name Doris scribbled across the blank line.

“Yes,” we both say in unison, and Moriah cracks a smile. One that’s real and not a facade that’s being pulled down by the weight of her world.

The volunteer grabs a clipboard. “Names?”

I clear my throat. “Moriah Carrow and Alicent Calder.” The woman stops scribbling at the mention of my name. She jerks her gaze off the paper and right to me, as if my face alone didn’t ring any bells, but the second my name passed through my lips, sirens started blaring.

Moriah and I side eye each other; it’s quick, but enough for me to know I’m not the only one who found her reaction weird.

Doris’s lips spread in a thin, tight line across her face. “Follow me, we have a couple chairs opening up shortly.” We both follow her wordlessly.

A nurse passes with a student as they leave the tent. “Alright, Julian, you should be out of the woods, but here are a few extra cookies in case you get lightheaded. Don’t worry, a lot of people faint their first time.” I don’t pay them much mind, but Moriah grabs my arm and my attention immediately goes to her.

“That’s it!” she exclaims.

I stare at her puzzled. “What is?”

“His name! The guy I saw in the library the first day and made out with at the bonfire?” I look over my shoulder just before he cuts from view.

“You never learned his name after that?”

She looks at me as if the revelation will help her sleep at night. “Nope.”

There’s ten stations set up inside the tent behind the booth, complete with medical equipment, a water station, and a snack table—everything one could possibly need for getting stabbed in the arm. My eyes track the occupied chairs, staring at the humans that are none the wiser as to what their blood is being used for. Guilt churns my gut with deceit, but this is what needs to be done. The alternative? It wouldn’t be blood bags on campus; it would be body bags.

This is far more humane.

Doris shows us to our chairs and informs us that the nurses will be with us shortly. The skin around my nails screams as I pick around the newly formed flesh. I don’t do well with blood. Even with the amount of times the guys have convinced me to give it to Eryx, I’m still not used to it.

I close my eyes and lean my head back, waiting for the nurse when the familiar scent of bergamot filters in. A smile breaches the surface, but I stay quiet.

“It’s getting increasingly more difficult to sneak up on you, love.” His voice soothes me instantly.

I peek an eye open at him, unable to control curiosity when I see a deck of cards in his hands. “You never cease to amaze me,” I tell him, nodding at the deck. “What are those for?”

“Someone informed me you were here, and I know you’re not too fond of this arrangement.” It dawns on me that the guys must’ve told the volunteers my name to set aside for…safe keeping. “Nevertheless, I appreciate you keeping up appearances and going on with the school’s traditions. I must find some way to reward such good behavior.”