Page 112 of Revenant

She scoffs as though she expected any other comment. “You’ve had us locked in here for months, surely someone has noticed our absence.”

“Trust me when I say, nobody has batted an eye at your sudden disappearance.”

My eyes track behind Naomi to a cowering Lacey. It’s barbaric, allowing Naomi to fight a battle that I believe she’s not privy to. “You’re trying to get me to believe my father—”

“Shut up and sit down before I make you.”

She holds her ground until Lacey catches her wrist, a soft tug telling her to let it go. She yields, settling onto the arm of the nearest chair, staying angled toward me as if she’s ready to strike. I almost hope she does.

I shift my attention to Lacey instead. She’s easier to unsettle, and I have neither the patience nor the time to spare for whatever it is between the two of them.

“Your blood verification came back interesting, to say the least,” I say.

Lacey’s chin lifts. “Interesting how?”

“You registered with Veilcrest as Lacey Hutton, but you’re apparently a Morgrave witch. So unless there’s someone else’s blood in your veins, that’s not something that shows up by accident.” I don’t bother hiding my condescension. I’m not here to play games. “Care to explain?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do. You’re just deciding whether lying to me is worth the trouble.” I tilt my head. “It isn’t. We suspected something was amiss when our locator spell failed, but blood never lies. It led us straight to you.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times! My mum’s name is Clara Hutton. That’s it. That’s the whole story!”

“No. There are no records of Hutton witches, and Clara Eldritch isn’t your mother.”

Naomi’s off the arm of her chair before I can continue. “Watch it—”

“Sit. Down. You’ve misjudged this situation if you believe I’d hesitate to ship you back to daddy in a coffin.” She thinks better of whatever she was about to say and drops back into her seat. Smart girl. My brother is the only reason she’s still breathing. He’s let her family cling to the illusion of control for far too many generations. My patience for them is running thin. I turn to Lacey, who I came for, and leave the other one to stew in her own uselessness. “Clara Eldritch is a Sister of the Reliquary. She has been for centuries. Women in that order don’t bear children, Lacey. They sacrifice the ability to have a family. It’s the price of acceptance.”

“You’re lying.”

“I have no reason to.”

“You have every reason to! I came here for my mother, in hopes to rebuild the coven she lost. Instead, I was fed on by one of you psychotic bloodsuckers. I barely escaped with my life, made it back to my covenstead…only to be hunted down by my best friend and convinced to return. And for what?! To be held prisoner? All because we chose to live instead of fighting a pack of wolves for a girl we know nothing about?!”

“Believe whatever helps you sleep at night.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and let her see exactly how little I care whether this hurts. “But you have Morgrave blood running through your veins, and the woman who apparently raised you can’t have given it to you. So either she kidnapped you, or someone handed you over to her. I’d start wondering which.”

My words make their mark. Lacey’s face contorts with shock, her breath goes ragged, and Naomi’s already crossed the space between them, dropping onto the window seat and pulling her in like she’s done it a thousand times without ever once calling it what it is.

I catalogue it without interest. Grief is grief. I’ve experienced it enough to know exactly how long it takes to curdle into something useful.

“Get out,” Naomi commands, not looking at me.

“I’m not finished.”

“You are for tonight.” She says it into Lacey’s hair, and there’s nothing performative in it, no false bravado for my benefit, just two girls who’ve spent their entire friendship circling something they haven’t found the nerve to name. “Whatever else you want to know, it can wait until she’s not falling apart. You’re telling her that her entire life is a lie. What reason does she have to believe you?”

None, if I’m honest, and I don’t particularly care whether she does. Belief was never the point. I only needed her to understand that Clara Eldritch has always been out for herself, and if she’s infiltrated The Hollowed, the wolves aren’t far behind. Lacey doesn’t need my comfort to be useful to me. She only needs to be frightened enough to stop lying and tell me what she knows.

“Fine.” I stand, straightening my cuff. “But this isn’t over.” I glance at Naomi, who in seconds has already forgotten I’m in the room, her hand smoothing down Lacey’s spine like an apology. “You might want to figure out where your allegiances lie before someone decides for you.”

I let myself out before either of them can answer. I have a meeting with a seamstress, and whatever they mean to each other isn’t my business, and it certainly isn’t my problem if it costs one of them everything.

The seamstress selected the exact shade of emerald green I was hoping for the gala. My gift hangs in the closet where none of the guys will see it, which is precisely the point.

I cross the room to my desk, pulling my current sketch free from its hiding spot beneath the others. The portraits on the wall watch me work the way they always do. It should feel like company, but ever since she arrived, it feels more like an audience.

I press the pencil to paper and start at her temple, working down along her cheekbone in the pattern I’ve drawn so many times my hand barely needs my eyes anymore. A constellation of freckles, arranged perfectly across her face in a way you would easily miss if you weren’t looking. I used to know exactly where each one fell. Now I catch myself hesitating, and it unsettles me more than it should. That something I once had memorized down to the millimeter has started to slip from my memory.