Page 41 of Revenant

A low, cold laugh slips out of me. “You think this feels like a prison?” I run a hand down my face at the absurdity. Her ignorance slithers under my skin, making itself at home like a fucking parasite. “You’ve barely been here five minutes.”

I tilt my head, watching the defiance flicker in her eyes. “Trust me. You have no idea what captivity actually looks like.” My voice stays even—deadly.

Alicent squares her shoulders, stubborn as hell. The kind of disobedience that begs to be trained.

I take one slow, deliberate step toward her, the kind that should elicit fear in my victims. “Run along, little wraith. Unless you’re keen on becoming the second witch today who tests my patience.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as if she’s trying to pretend her body isn’t in fight or flight. She brushes past me, attempting to act intimidating by knocking her shoulder into my arm. Before reaching the corner, she plants a hand on the wall and shoots me a glare. “Enjoy your cage, Eryx. Seems like it’s the only thing around here that can stand you.”

Her footsteps fade, but the sting of her parting doesn’t. Not for me. Not for the curse that tightens like a noose the moment she’s out of sight.

I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling a breath I don’t need. Useless. All of it. Her attitude, her defiance, the way she looks at me like she sees something I haven’t shown anyone in centuries. I shove the thought away and turn down the opposite corridor, heading for my room.

Feeding should take the edge off. It always does.

At least it used to.

She’s waiting where she always is—perched on the edge of my bed, neck bare in that practiced, desperate way. A volunteer. A willing one. Veilcrest has no shortage of them.

Hunger claws at my ribs, a throb pulsing in my fangs like a heartbeat I once had. I can smell her pulse, hear the rush of blood beneath her skin. But the moment my mouth nears her throat, something stops me.

Alicent.

Her damned heartbeat still echoes in my skull. Taunting. Like the forbidden fruit I’ll never be able to sink myself into. I pull back with a snarl, fangs scraping air instead of flesh.

The girl flinches. “D–did I do something wrong?”

“No.” The word is a growl. “You didn’t do anything at all.” That’s the fucking problem. I can’t feed. Not with her in my head. I cross to the other side of the room, pouring myself a healthy amount of bourbon before draining the glass.

It’s not a replacement, more of a band-aid covering a hole in a sinking ship.

“Leave,” I demand, pouring myself another. “Now!”

She scrambles out of the room, nearly tripping over herself in haste. The door slams behind her, and I’m left alone with my hunger gnawing at my insides.

Fine. If I can’t feed, I can at least finish what I started.

The dead witch’s body is exactly where I left it, limp and pale against the stone floor in the basement of Wisteria Terrarium—the old greenhouse that doesn’t look inviting to those it shouldn’t. I lift her easily, she was useless anyway—relatively weak instincts and a weaker will.

The Hollowed won’t miss her.

But the woods behind the greenhouse will take her.

The night air whips at my skin as I step into the trees, the earth soft and all too familiar beneath my boots. I dig six feet down, with the practiced efficiency of someone who’s done this far too many times. When the grave is finally deep enough, I throw her in.

She’ll rise by morning. Not a witch anymore, but a vampire.

She’s not the one who matters.

There’s only one witch who’s ever given any of us hope.

Alicent Calder.

Her bloodline stole our lives and cursed us. Locked us in this place as revenge. Stolen futures we’ll never get back. And yet she’s the only witch with a chance of breaking the chains her ancestor forged.

Typical. Even our hope tastes like punishment.

And that is a problem I can’t bury.