Page 86 of Revenant

“Until now…” Pryce mutters, and the three of us exchange nothing more than a look. Alicent isn’t just any other witch. She’s the kind whose bloodline was supposed to have died out centuries ago.

“It was foolish to send Alicent off on that bloody errand to track down Lacey.”

“I could’ve fucking told you that,” Pryce snaps. “Reed blindsiding us or not, she should never have been without one of us.”

“Look, we couldn’t have known Clara was involved.” Elias lifts the bourbon decanter, takes a slow drink, and sets it on the polished Edwardian console in his room. “Or that Reed would have the gall to turn on us. You reckon she’s working with them too?”

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Pryce answers before I can. And he’s right. Clara resurfacing the same time a Calder returns to Wickham? That kind of timing never happens by accident. In all our years, we’ve met very few witches capable of matching the Calders, and even fewer with whom we still have unfinished business.

“It seems we’re out of options,” I say, exasperated. “We need to talk to Eldritch.”

Eldritch has been around nearly as long as we have, though unlike us, he isn’t bound to the grounds. That distinction belongs to us alone. He’s remained loyal for centuries, but loyalty doesn’t erase the history he shares with Clara, and if anyone might understand why she’s back—or how the Reliquary ended up in Veilcrest—it’s him.

“You should show your face in his psychology class tomorrow,” Elias says. “Alicent too. With Clara back in town and the wolves circling, we need to move things forward.”

“And Naomi? Lacey?” Pryce asks. “What about them?” I’ve got to admit—it’s a fair question I don’t think any of us have the right answer to. Lacey’s newfound link to the Reliquary keeps her alive. We need more information, but Naomi’s only breathing because her family helps bankroll the school. Remove either, and they’d already be six feet under.

“Eryx has them,” Elias states.

I nearly choke. “Eryx? You’re drunk, surely. They’re probably already dead!”

“They’re fine,” he insists, completely unbothered. “I made sure before we went to Moriah. He’s keeping them in the bell tower—Zara and, I think, Della Batista are with him.”

“Oh, pardon me for thinking Eryx might suddenly decide to show mercy to two witches who nearly sacrificed the one person who can help us.”

“Don’t mistake survival for mercy. I just said he hasn’t killed them.” Elias drains another glass of bourbon, crossing the hardwood floor with measured steps before grabbing a bag from the closet. “They’re a problem for another day. There’s something more urgent to deal with first.”

It takes only a second to recognize Alicent’s bag. Small creases form between my brows and Pryce’s as we exchange a wary side glance.

“I took it upon myself to watch over Alicent tonight—my turn on rotation, if you will.” Pryce huffs beside me, his annoyance palpable even without my abilities. Under calmer circumstances, I’d stir things up just to see him squirm. “I recalled her stashing the grimoire in this bag when she was gathering her things after Eryx’s attack, but after retrieving it from Koen’s room, I also happened to find this.”

Slowly, he produces something I never expected to see again in my lifetime—a handheld golden ornate baroque frame that houses a mirror that predates even our generation.

Pryce is the first to acknowledge it. “Impossible. I thought it was destroyed?”

I don’t dare look at him. My eyes stay locked on the mirror as though blinking might make it vanish. “...And yet somehow…Alicent has it?” I let the realization edge out. The last time we were in the presence of such an object…was the night of our creation.

The moment slams into me with brutal clarity—blood, fire, the sound of bones breaking under the weight of a spell that should never have been cast. The mirror was the vessel, and Veil’s blood was the gate. And seeing it now, knowing it’s in Alicent’s possession, feels like fate tightening its grip around our souls.

Elias continues, clearly having more time to process this discovery than the rest of us. “Alicent mentioned her parents in the archives. Pryce—take Sage in the morning. Find out who they were, look into her aunt Tessa, and figure out how she may have ended up with the mirror. I’ll deal with Eryx…make sure Lacey and Naomi are, in fact, still breathing.”

A soft thud echoes from the hallway before any of us can agree on a plan. Alicent’s heartbeat gives her away first—uneven and threaded with exhaustion.

“We’re done,” Elias says. “Out. Now.”

Pryce bristles. “We still have things to—”

“Not with her about to walk in,” Elias cuts him off. “She doesn’t need to worry about any of this tonight. And Bastian will tear into both of you if either of you push him right now.”

He’s right. Bastian’s protective streak has always teetered on feral, and tonight, after everything that’s happened, testing him would be madness.

Reluctantly, I exhale. “Fine.”

Pryce mutters under his breath but grabs his coat from the rack near the door. I move toward him just as Alicent’s footsteps reach the threshold.

The door swings open without warning. Our little witch stepping in first, swaddled in one of Bastian’s jackets, mud still clinging to her hair. Her bright blue eyes dart amongst the three of us, tired and wary, just as Elias gently replaces her bag in the closet. Bastian takes us all in, understanding relaxing over his features that we’re about to leave.

Honestly, I’m surprised he isn’t putting up a fight.