“I can tell,” Evelyne said dryly, earning a soft laugh from him.
He turned his attention fully to her, his eyes gleaming. “This is a pleasant surprise,” he said, gesturing theatrically toward her. “A very pleasant surprise.”
“Don’t start,” Evelyne chided, swatting his arm.
“Habit,” he admitted, rubbing his arm in mock injury. “Come on, let’s talk. I was in my study, reviewing painfully dull documents for my father. If you don’t mind joining me, I’ll tidy them up.”
She followed him through the halls to his study, a stark and utilitarian room. Papers were scattered across his desk, and a bookshelf in one corner was sparsely filled with a few well-worn adventure novels. A lone plant perched on the windowsill, its vibrant green standing out against the otherwise drab surroundings.
“Not much for decor, are you?” Evelyne teased, noting his slight discomfort as she scanned the room.
“I don’t spend much time here,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I get my work done and leave. I promise I’m more interesting than this room suggests.”
She already knew that—they’d known each other since childhood, after all.
“Well, the plant adds some life,” she smiled, taking the seat he offered.
As he tidied his desk, Evelyne’s eyes fell on his hands. One bore a fresh scab and bruised knuckles.
“Your hand…” she began cautiously. “Is that from the market?”
He paused, glancing at it briefly. “Just a scratch,” he said dismissively.
She hesitated, unsure how to broach the topic further, but Alaric shifted the conversation.
“You look better,” he observed. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Better, yes, but I’m not sureall rightis the right word.”
“I have not spoken a word of what transpired in the alley,” Alaric said evenly. “Though I would not object to seeing the scoundrel receive his due. Still, I thought it best to leave the matter in your hands, so that you might decide how it should be addressed.”
Evelyne drew in a trembling breath. “I feel utterly humiliated,” she said softly. “There is fear, yes, and anger, but more than that. He touched me in a way no one ought to. He hurt me, not only in body, but in a way I can hardly name. It feels as though he left me hollow… like he claimed something that was never his to take.” Her throat tightened as she spoke, and though part of her longed to turn away from Alaric’s sorrowful gaze, she didn’t. She held her ground, though her eyes dropped to her lap, fixed on her trembling hands. “And I don’t know if I can face him anytime soon,” she added quietly.
“I know,” Alaric murmured after a moment, exhaling heavily as if her pain weighed on him too. “You may count on mypresence at the ball tomorrow. And should he have the audacity to attend, I’ll ensure he keeps his distance.”
“Thank you,” Evelyne whispered. “For everything you did for me that night. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
Alaric nodded, but she couldn’t let it go. The question had lingered in her mind ever since.
“Alaric…” She paused, gathering herself. “How did you know where I was? How did you find me in the market?” She shook her head, her disbelief still fresh.
He exhaled slowly, his hand settling at the back of his neck. “I had no idea you were there,” he said, his voice quiet. “It was a feeling I can’t quite explain. Something urged me forward, like a tingling at the nape of my neck that refused to leave.” His gaze turned distant. “It wasn’t reason or chance. It just… felt like instinct. As if something within me pushed me toward that alley. And the moment I turned the corner… I heard you.” He shrugged, though doubt flickered in his expression. “Maybe it was a coincidence.”
She gave a faint nod, but her mind wrestled with the meaning behind his words. He seemed to sense her unease, and quickly shifted the conversation away, sparing her from having to dwell on it any longer.
When he asked about Cillian, Evelyne felt her chest lighten just a little. While the subject was still heavy, it was easier to talk about her brother. Her worries tumbled forth in a rush of words as emotion surged past the careful guard of her nerves. Alaric listened closely, offering a quiet reassurance that no matter how broken she felt, she wasn’t alone in facing it.
“I want to help him,” she admitted. “But all he asks is for me to wait until he’s ready. He doesn’t think it’s an illness, but what else could it be? The visions, his actions… None of it makes sense.”
Alaric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Did he mention anything else?”
“He said he keeps seeing a woman… and symbols. But he doesn’t know why. And he said it feels like something is inside him, like it’s waiting. But what could cause that? And where would it even come from? I’ve never heard of anything like this.”
Alaric’s gaze drifted toward the bookshelf. After a brief pause, he stood and pulled down an old, dust-covered book. “Maybe we can help him figure it out, or at least find someone who can.”
He flipped the book open, revealing pages filled with maps and handwritten notes.
“These are trade routes,” he explained. “My father insists I study them, though I swear I’ve memorized every territory by now. Still…” His fingers traced one of the faded lines. “There might be something noted here that can help us understand what’s happening. Or a region known for healing…” His voice trailed off as he continued to flip through the book.
