Page 129 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Tonight, Evelyne was grateful for them.

Seraphine had taken great care with Evelyne as well. Her long brown hair had been swept into a low, elegant bun, while diamond earrings caught the light with each turn of her head. Her gown was simpler than Aurelia’s, less dramatic and less structured, but no less striking. Golden silk, chosen to match her eyes. It did not flare or puff like the others; instead, it followed the natural lines of her form, fitted through the waist and bodice in a way that felt both unfamiliar and entirely her own. A fur shawl rested lightly across her shoulders, concealing both skin and mark. She had allowed Aurelia to assist with her cosmetics, and though she had not expected it to make a difference, it had calmed her in ways she had not anticipated.

She felt—beautiful.

Alaric Stonebridge entered the ballroom with his parents, and a subtle hush passed through the room. It lasted only a moment before Celeste’s laughter carried above it, light, practiced, and entirely intentional. She welcomed them as though nothing had ever passed between their families, as though there were no offense to remember. Tonight would be civility, charm, and carefully maintained delight.

Alaric’s gaze found Evelyne across the room, and she offered him a soft, familiar smile. He looked as he always had in society: polished, composed, effortlessly elegant. Whatever he had endured these past months, he wore it well. That familiar charm remained, the easy presence that drew notice without asking for it. He had returned to himself, or at least to the version of himself the world expected. Evelyne knew better. Shadows still lingered beneath the surface, no matter how well he hid them.

She reached instinctively for her wine, resisting the urge to drink more than she should. As tempting as it was to dull the tension in her chest, she needed a clear head tonight, especially when Kaldrek arrived. He would do well. He had learned the dance steps faster than expected, and he would try, truly try, to fit within society’s bounds. But there was only so much refinement one could place upon a man like him. He would stand among gentlemen of modest stature and delicate manners, surrounded by debutantes fluttering fans and whispering behind gloved hands.

Oh gods. The debutantes.

Evelyne stiffened. She should have prepared him better. They would notice him at once, gather around him, bat their lashes, giggle, touch his arms as though confirming he was real, and lean far too close in their attempts to charm him. The thought sent a sharp flare of irritation through her chest.

A firm nudge at her shoulder pulled her back.

“What is the matter with you?” Aurelia murmured. “You are very nearly crushing that glass. Whatever is troubling you, set it aside. There is no turning back now.”

Evelyne exhaled slowly and loosened her grip. “I am sorry. Just… nerves catching up with me.”

“Well,” Aurelia replied, lifting a brow, “at least your condition does not involve emitting come-hither-and-lick-me-from-head-to-toe signals.”

Evelyne laughed softly, some tension easing from her shoulders. It was good to see Aurelia finding humor in it rather than distress.

“How are you managing all of that?” she asked, lowering her voice.

Aurelia flicked her wrist, snapping open an impressively large fan. “I asked Cillian’s handmaid to find the largest fan in the house,” she said. “Thank heavens Sonya was available to help. It has proven invaluable. Though I must confess…” Her tone shifted slightly. “I am rather apprehensive about being near Holden this evening.”

Evelyne nodded, her expression softening. “That is entirely fair. I would be lying if I claimed I was not equally concerned for you.”

Lord Ivan Bavrick’s mother and younger brother soon arrived, both wearing bright, well-practiced smiles, but fortunately, Ivan himself was not among the evening’s guests. Callista Evermere stayed fixed at Lord Wesley’s side, her hand tucked neatly through his arm as though it belonged there. As expected, she cast Evelyne a look of thinly veiled disdain, though, surprisingly, she kept her distance. Had she finally tired of her theatrics? Evelyne doubted it, but she had no desire to indulge Callista tonight.

An hour passed in polite conversation and carefully measured laughter, long enough for wine to loosen tongues and ease the tension among the guests. The room had settled into an easy rhythm when, at last, her mother gave Evelyne the smallest nod.

It was time.

***

A few deliberate taps of a spoon against crystal rang through the ballroom, cutting cleanly through conversation. Within moments, the room fell silent, and every eye turned to Lady Celeste Duskwood.

“Good evening. Thank you all for joining us tonight to honor the life of my husband, Lord Aron Duskwood. Your kindness has been a great comfort as my children and I begin to navigate this difficult loss. However, as I have said throughout the evening, this gathering is not meant to dwell in sorrow, but to celebrate life and look forward.”

The hard lines of her face eased, though her resolve held firm.

“It is my honor to formally present my son, Cillian Duskwood, as the new lord of this house.”

Applause rose at once, filling the room with warmth. Evelyne felt a tear slip free before she could stop it, her chest tightening as Cillian stepped forward beside their mother. He inclined his head graciously before the crowd, already wearing the role as though he had been prepared for it all his life.

He looked every bit the lord. And Evelyne knew every unwed debutante in the room had noticed. Perhaps that would serve him well.

The applause faded gradually, and Celeste continued.

“We are also honored this evening by the presence of distinguished guests,” she said, her tone shifting slightly. “It is my great pleasure to introduce not only our friends—but my daughter Evelyne’s betrothed.”

A ripple moved through the room.

“Lord Kaldrek Ironwolf of Centaro,” she announced, “and his companions, Lord Holden and Lady Heidara. Welcome to Caltheris.”