Page 9 of Revenant

“Overestimate? No…I just know who I want, tesoro. E non lascio che nessun altro prenda ciò che è mio.”

Rolling my eyes, I take the last bite of my sandwich, trying to savor it before the reality of the day drags me back. Pryce doesn’t wait. One hand lifts my plate before I can protest. He waves someone over to grab it; the way he moves it’s like he owns every inch of the school without ever needing to say a word.

We step into motion, and just like that, I’m walking beside him, wondering how I’ve just agreed to a very strange, very infuriating game. And a small, reckless part of me is dangerously curious about what comes next.

The registrar’s office smells of disinfectant and stale paperwork. I gently set my bag down in an open chair as the assistant’s eyes narrow over her clipboard in my direction. “Miss Calder. You missed verification this morning. That’s required for enrollment.”

My instinct is to argue, to fight the assumption that I intentionally skipped it, but Pryce’s hand settles against the small of my back, inadvertently reminding me to keep my cool. “Right,” I mutter, tasting my defiance in the word. “I apologize for my oversight.”

The assistant doesn’t flinch. Her pen tapping against her clipboard with an impatient insistence. “Veilcrest does not tolerate carelessness. Non-compliance will result in disciplinary action.”

“So I’ve heard,” I whisper under my breath, but when Pryce’s hand slides from the small of my back to my hip, pulling me slightly closer, the sharp warning in his eyes tells me I wasn’t nearly as quiet as I intended. Curling my fingers into fists, my brain screams for rebellion as I refuse to acknowledge him.

I’m gestured toward a sterile chair beneath a stark fluorescent light. “Please, Miss Calder, have a seat.”

I drop into it with all the grace of someone defying gravity, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my hesitation. Pryce stays close behind me, his proximity enough to make my pulse spike without touching me further.

The nurse—or whatever she is—approaches with gloves and a needle. Her gaze flicking to mine. “I need to run a full panel, but I’ll try my best to make this quick.”

I offer a soft smile and try to focus on the metal tray in front of me, the antiseptic smell, anything but him. My jaw tightens as the nurse swabs my arm.

“Relax,” Pryce murmurs.

I glare at the ceiling, muscles taut, heart thundering. Is now a good time to mention that I’m terrified of needles? Probably not.

When the needle pricks and warmth blooms in my veins, I can’t stop the flicker of awareness in my chest that he’s still there, observing, claiming, making every second of this stupid blood draw feel intensely private. His gaze sharpens, darkening ever so slightly, and the air around us seems to thicken. I catch a micro shift in his stance, an almost imperceptible turn of his head, and for a second I wonder if it’s the blood.

The…blood.

For a fraction of a second, it’s almost dizzying to remember why I’m here. My vision wavers, the edges of the fluorescent lights bleeding into one another. I try to blink it away, try to anchor myself, but my limbs suddenly feel heavy, leaden, like the chair itself is swallowing me whole.

“P–Pry–Pryce,” I manage to gasp, though my voice comes out trembling. My fingers tighten against the edge of the chair, nails digging into the metal as if it can hold me upright.

Pryce moves instantly, and the room tilts. The nurse’s words become distant, muffled, as if she’s talking underwater. I catch one last glimpse of Pryce’s eyes, inches from my face. “I—” My chest tightens, a flash of panic rising, then…everything goes black.

4: Alicent

The ground shifts beneath me as I move, yielding where it should be solid, conforming in a way that makes no sense. I frown, the sensation tugging me awake, and my eyes flutter open to a blur of shadow and soft light. I’m expecting to see the fluorescents of the office, hear the printer for the hundredth time—but the air is warm with a familiar comfort, threaded with the scent of amber and vanilla. Home, my mind supplies stupidly, even as I know that can’t be right.

The mattress dips, and I push myself upright on instinct. Too fast. Regret hits immediately, unforgiving as my head swims as if I’ve been repeatedly spun in place. The room tilts, my vision narrows, and I swallow hard against the sudden certainty that I’m one wrong breath away from humiliating myself all over again.

“Easy,” Pryce murmurs, close enough that I feel the vibration of his voice before I register the words. His hand settles on my shoulder, anchoring me. “You’re alright.”

I blink, forcing the room back into focus. “What…happened?” My voice sounds distant.

“You fainted,” he states calmly, as though this is an everyday occurrence and not something mortifying. “It happens more often than people admit.”

Embarrassment prickles under my skin, but before I can spiral too far into it, my gaze drifts past Pryce—and catches on another figure leaning against the far wall.

Koen.

He’s half in shadow, arms crossed, posture deceptively relaxed. His eyes are on me, like he’s cataloging every detail.

So much for privacy.

“Um, what is he doing here?” I eye Koen wearingly, not understanding what he has to do with this situation.

It takes a moment for Pryce to respond. “He saw me carrying you here. Thought he would lend a hand.” But something about his confession doesn’t sit right. I pull my knees closer to my chest, picking at my nails—something I haven’t done since I was a child. Tears sting the backs of my eyes, and I have no idea why. Pressing my forehead into my knees, I order all these stupid emotions to go away, but it’s like they’re rebelling because the harder I try, the worse it becomes.