Page 142 of Revenant

“Did you forget our shared dream so easily?” Part of me doubts she’s really put it out of her head so easily. “The freckles.”

“Freckles,” she repeats, but she says it like a joke and not like it’s anything significant. “That’s actually ridiculous.”

“If you look close enough, these are just…dots on a page.” To my surprise, she leans in as if she’s interested. “The other, however, the freckles dance along the skin like a constellation.”

I can see it in her eyes the second it clicks. Her eyes meet mine and the connection is catastrophic. That the former is Veil and the latter…is her. Surely she must know that the similarities are just that. Similar. Not identical. And to anybody else, they couldn’t tell the difference. But I’m not just anyone.

And she’s not Veil.

“When I first arrived, you said you couldn’t stand to look at me because I looked just like her.” Her voice is soft, as though the mere thought of me thinking of her in any way endearing is ludicrous.

I used to think the same thing.

“For someone so smart, you can be so dense sometimes.”

“But you hate me. Literally can’t stand to breathe the same air as me.”

“I never hated you. I hated what you reminded me of. I hated myself for feeling this bloody pull toward you.”

When she first arrived, it was like all the feelings and memories I buried centuries ago came flooding back—and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop them.

She looks around the room with fresh eyes, almost as though she can pick out which ones are her and which are Veil. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you draw me?

Taking a beat to gather my thoughts, I place Alicent’s portrait back on the wall where it belongs, and I let the other float to the floor. “I’ve drawn Veil for as long as I can remember. Her image was so prominent in my mind I could do it blindfolded. However, after her betrayal, and what she did, the joy I found in art was ripped away from me just like everything else.”

My fingers itch to touch her now that I have nothing to occupy my hands. Instead, I reach around her, trying not to react to the way the air catches in her throat as I do. The pencil feels like a weight I didn’t know I needed in my hand, and I slowly rise to my full height.

The distance I create begs to be filled, but I ignore it and sit at my desk instead, the pencil flying over the paper on its own accord. “Before you arrived, I hadn’t been here in quite some time. However, the moment I saw you, I felt this overwhelming compulsion to come back. I had forgotten the last time I stepped foot in here, I tore the place to shreds, but apparently, I couldn’t bring myself to destroy the thing that was keeping my happiness hostage.”

She stays silent, absorbing my words as though they’re the only thing keeping her afloat in these uncharted waters.

“It wasn’t until then I realized how much of me she had stolen, and my love for her, in turn, stole the lives of my best friends. My brothers. What I couldn’t see at the time was that it was never love. And that was the part that hurt most—realizing everything I’d sacrificed had been for nothing more than a delusion.”

Alicent’s heels sound as she comes closer; she doesn’t reach to touch me, but I don’t need her to. Just knowing she’s a breath away is enough to calm the storm inside. I’ve never allowed anyone in here until recently, let alone when I’m drawing. This has always been something I do in private just for me, and her watching me while I work feels…intimate.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says, and to my surprise, she settles a hand on my shoulder.

I don’t turn toward her. Can’t is more like it. Because if I do, I’m afraid I’ll do something she’s not ready for. “It’s hard to believe you, of all people, are saying that.”

“If you had known that would be one thing, but you didn’t. You were just as blindsided as the rest of them.”

I press down a little harder on the paper, then smear the lead as inspiration takes over. “But it was my fault for putting them in that position. Elias—”

“Eryx, I guarantee you, none of them hold this against you. You’re the only one blaming yourself.” Hearing my name fall from her lips without disdain is like seeing the gates of heaven open. She doesn’t say it with anger or disgust but with compassion.

“I don’t think I’ll ever feel anything but at fault until they’re free. Even then I don’t think I’ll feel as though I deserve to leave.” She doesn’t say anything to that, and part of me wonders if she believes the same.

“Why did you come here?” I ask.

“I wanted to know why you got me the dress.”

I blow the shavings off the paper, admiring my work while keeping the finished piece from her gaze. “I already answered that. You look breathtaking in green.”

I steal a glance at her, just in time to see the blush creep up her cheeks, and fuck me if it’s not the most perfect shade I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t push the issue any further, and I’m thankful because, if she had, I’m not sure I’d be able to bite my tongue any longer.