Page 22 of Revenant

I shoulder past Eryx—deliberately, hard enough that he feels it. He doesn’t react, but I feel the way he tenses, like he’s holding in every emotion he hasn’t voiced all these years.

I don’t give him a chance.

Before I’m out of earshot, I throw one last remark their way. “You know full well Alicent Calder is the only thing standing between us and our freedom. She’s the only person to give us hope. Don’t let an ancient grudge screw us over.”

I need to blow off some steam, but not before checking on her first. My whole body is buzzing with leftover adrenaline, irritation, and whatever the hell else Eryx manages to stir up in me every time he opens his damn mouth. He always has a way of winding me up, and not always in a good way. He pretends he doesn’t care—pretends she’s nothing and this whole situation with Veil is in the past—but I know better. I can practically feel it eating away at him, chewing through that carefully built composure he hides behind. Part of me relishes in it.

Lost in thought I end up at her building. The door opens without a sound, letting the cool breeze slip in behind me as if it’s trying to follow. Vesperian Hall always feels alive at night—full of secrets—harboring them as keepsakes. It hasn’t slipped my mind that she’s in the same room Veil once was. That’s not something you forget. That’s something you bury. Deep.

I planned on keeping that part to myself. But the second Koen saw me carrying her back to her dorm, he insisted on tagging along, as if I couldn’t be trusted to walk ten feet with her without supervision. Typical. He didn’t say anything outright, but the look he gave me said enough. I’m just hoping he’ll keep his big mouth shut and not turn this into a spectacle before I’ve even had a chance to think.

The others will find out eventually—they always do, but this? This is the kind of thing Eryx would treat like the final nail in the coffin. He doesn’t tend to believe in coincidences. Not when it comes to anything that threatens the fragile order he’s convinced he’s holding together by sheer force of will.

And maybe he’s right to be wary.

I’ve evaded this wing of Vesperian Hall for as long as I can remember, refusing to go anywhere near it after what happened to us. That is until she arrived. Even walking toward it now feels like testing a bruise I’ve spent years pretending doesn’t hurt. Room 259 comes into view, and despite the history cemented into every inch of this place, something in me loosens. Veil isn’t here anymore. This isn’t her room. It’s Alicent’s. And we all need to remember that.

She’s not her.

And for some reason, I feel this overwhelming need to make sure every single one of them knows it—to drive it into their skulls if I have to. Maybe it’s guilt—or instinct—but something in my bones says this is the path I have to follow, no matter where it leads.

I hesitate before knocking, wondering if she’s already passed out. Wouldn’t be shocking, considering the state she was in when I left her. I press my ear to the door, but there’s nothing—not even the sound of her breathing.

She’s probably asleep.

I should go.

I really, really should.

But my hand stays exactly where it is, hovering in the air like it didn’t get the memo. My brain is telling me to walk away, to be smart, to leave this alone for once in my life. Leave her alone. But my body, apparently, has other plans.

Temptation wins, and I knock anyway. Eryx had the nerve to ask if my compulsion worked, and ever since, I can’t shake the thought that maybe it didn’t. It had to…right? She didn’t question a single thing, didn’t even bat an eye when everyone wandered off in a daze just because I told them to.

Still…I can’t shake the tiny, annoying thought that maybe she’s in that room replaying everything that happened with a much clearer head than she should have. And that possibility is exactly why I’m still standing at her door instead of heading back to my room like a sane person.

The door swings open a few seconds later, but it’s not Alicent who answers. The girl standing there looks startled to see me, eyes widening for a moment before she schools her expression. I barely acknowledge her. My attention goes straight past her into the room I’ve been in more times than Alicent realizes, and it’s empty—bed made, lights low, not a single sign that she’s here.

“Isn’t this Alicent Calder’s room?” The question is more of a formality, of course this is her room.

It takes the girl a few beats to respond, like she’s deciding whether I’m worth answering. “Technically, yeah. She’s out, though.”

My brows pull together. “Out? Out where?”

She’s barely talked to anyone, and she sure as hell hasn’t wasted time on people she doesn’t have to put up with. The idea of her off with someone else sets off something nasty in my gut, and jealousy is the monster chewing through whatever patience I have left.

The girl shrugs, unimpressed. “Check Moriah Carrow’s room. She’s been following her around like a little dog.” She points toward a door at the end of the hall, and the relief that hits me is immediate and irritating.

I give her a brief nod and turn to go, but after a few steps, I can still feel her staring. I glance back. “Name’s Pryce.”

“Reyna,” she shoots back, brow lifting in a quick, cocky little motion. “And I don’t appreciate being woken up. Don’t make this a habit.” Then, she closes the door, effectively ending the conversation.

Alright. Alicent’s roommate is a piece of work. Noted for future avoidance.

I head toward Moriah’s door, not hesitating this time, fully ready to knock—until their voices hit me long before I reach it. I can hear every word if I want to, every breath, every shift of weight on the floorboards, but then her laugh cuts through everything else.

That laugh. It’s infectious.

My hand drops, even though knocking is the only thing I want to do. She needs this. Alicent came to Veilcrest with no idea who she is, no idea what’s coming. If I can give her one night before her entire world turns over—one night that’s just hers—then that’s what she’ll have.