Page 102 of Revenant

Zara clears her throat, and I shake my head, trying to pull myself together. “Just try and focus. It’ll come.” Her reassurance is comforting. For the first time since deciding to commit to this, I feel like another witch might actually be in my corner. Inhaling deeply, I close my eyes and place my hands around the cup.

I reach for a memory…think of…something, but I can feel Zara watching me closely, like she’s waiting for something momentous to break loose. Small chuckles start up around me. Heat crawls up my neck, and I push harder, grasping for whatever emotion it is I’m supposed to find.

“Don’t listen to them,” Zara whispers, but tears sting the back of my eyes with embarrassment.

I slam my hands against the table in frustration, and Zara’s gentle hand settles on my shoulder.

“Alicent, I feel like you need some tough love.”

My gaze swings to her. “What I need is a margarita and a Xanax.” That at least makes her laugh, but I fear I’m not joking.

“Do you mind?” Without waiting for my consent, she places her hands around mine, and the feeling is…euphoric. Her magic pushes through me like an old friend, my own welcoming it with open arms. “Just feel it, let me guide yours,” she instructs, and I let her.

My hands tingle with power, the sensation foreign but not the least bit unpleasant. It’s comforting—exhilarating in a way I haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing yet. Right in front of me, the water begins to move, and it’s like an extension of myself is picking each molecule apart, one by one, until it forms exactly what it needs to.

What I want it to.

Where Zara demonstrated a sphere, perfectly circular and precise, my magic coaxes the water into a crystal clear…tree? My brows draw together slightly as the water continues to build, lengthy branches sprouting before descending down the trunk. As the water takes its final shape, I realize it’s not just any tree. But a willow tree. Curiosity paints my features, while astonishment appears on Zara’s. The willow tree encompasses itself in ice, sealing its fate like it wants to be remembered forever.

I pull back in shock, but Zara’s reflexes are faster than mine, and she catches it before it can shatter into a million tiny shards. She admires its beauty, inspecting it as if it’s a rare jewel.

“I knew you had it in you.”

I shy away from the praise, not entirely believing it was me. “Are you sure it wasn’t you? I couldn’t do anything without your assistance.”

“I was only guiding your magic. This was all you.” The confirmation sends a jolt of excitement through me, slowly eating away some of the crippling self-doubt.

Zara follows me to each of the other stations, guiding me as she puts it. But ultimately, the other areas were a bust. “It’s been a long day. And given what you did do, I think you should be proud of yourself,” she tells me, but I hate failing. And lately, I feel like that’s all I’ve managed to do.

“I just feel like it should come naturally. Like it does for you.”

Zara presses her back against the nearby wall, trying to smother a laugh but failing. “Natural? Babes, this is all I’ve done for the last twenty-two years.”

She winks, and I’m left feeling even more insecure. These girls really have been exposed to magic all their lives. “Anyways, that’s beside the point. You made progress, showed promise, and that’s really what we needed from you.”

“I didn’t realize you were waiting on me for anything.”

“You’re joking,” she deadpans, all humor evaporating instantly. “Our covens have worked for generations to break their curse. Yes, we receive something in return, but we’ve also lost witches to tragedy, because what your bloodline carries is unmatched. Any one of us could spend a lifetime learning and still never hold a candle to your power.”

My nails pick at the already sensitive skin around my beds, the sting grounding me to the present. “Does…does everyone know about the attack? What I did?”

Zara shrugs. “Some of us, not all. We thought it best on a need-to-know basis.”

And by “we,” I’m left wondering if she means the witches, or the guys. Or both. Frankly, it feels more like things are happening around me—like they all make decisions behind my back and trust I’ll go along with whatever they’ve decided is best.

Something in the room recalibrates, a new tension entering the room as a burning stare lands on my back. My gaze snaps to the pale gray eyes I once thought meant safety. Pryce looks frazzled, frantic even, like something’s been gnawing at him for days. He moves in quick, restless steps across the room, a far cry from the man who has always been the picture of ease.

When he’s only a few steps from me, his hand reaches out as if he wants—no— needs to touch me. But immediately retracts, instead running it down his face. “Can we talk?”

“I’m in the middle of class,” I deadpan, as if that would ever be a tangible reason coming from me.

“Actually, I think we’re about done,” Zara inputs, and I shoot her a death glare. She holds her hands up in surrender, but judging from the smile she’s attempting to suppress, she doesn’t mean it.

“Please, tesoro. I can’t—I can’t take this anymore.”

I grab his arm, hauling him over to the far corner. “Can you keep your voice down?”

“Five minutes, that’s all I ask,” he pleads, his eyes never moving from mine, staring into my soul like he belongs there. It’s moments like this that make me remember what it was like when I first got here. When Pryce was a guiding light in this new school, a person to lean on when everything seemed so unsure. The stupid organ in my chest deflates, because as much as I want to stay mad at him forever for lying, I know it’s not fair. The hurt in his eyes says it all, and I just hope that mine tells a similar tale, and not that I’m thirty seconds from forgetting it all and letting him hold me like I’ve desperately wanted.