Page 135 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Ivan tilted his head, feigning surprise. “No man would take a ruined woman, Evelyne.”

“She is not ruined, you bastard,” Alaric snapped.

“Any debutante who has been touched intimately by another man is considered ruined, Mr. Stonebridge,” Ivan replied coolly. “And from what I hear, you were rather eager to explore that reputation.” His gaze flicked between them, clearly baiting.

“He never touched me,” Evelyne said, her voice firm despite the tension tightening in her chest. “You are mistaken.”

“That is not what Lady Evermere claimed,” Ivan said lightly. “She was quite insistent that the night of your betrothal announcement, Mr. Stonebridge had too much to drink and revealed the truth of your… arrangement.”

He took another slow sip, eyes scanning the room as though this were nothing more than idle conversation.

“She also informed the court that your parents forced the match because you had already given yourself to him, and he felt obligated,” Ivan clicked his tongue, his voice hardening as he continued. “And if I recall correctly…” His eyes darkened slightly. “You lifted your skirts for me as well.”

“You are filth,” Evelyne said, her voice steady despite the fury rising in her chest. “A vile excuse for a man. You will never speak to me—or look at me—again. Do I make myself clear?”

Kaldrek’s barely contained anger burned through the bond. I am not going to let him live, he growled.

Alaric stepped forward before anything could escalate, forcing a humorless laugh as he leaned in just enough to keep his voice low.

“This is not a group you’d be wise to provoke,” he said smoothly. “And I believe I made myself quite clear the last time we spoke—do not address Lady Duskwood again. If you possess even the smallest measure of intelligence in that bald, swollen head of yours, you will hold your tongue and walk away.”

Evelyne had never seen such anger in Alaric.

“And she will never be available to you, or to any man,” he went on, each word more pointed than the last. “She is to wed Lord Kaldrek.”

Ivan’s mouth curved into a faint, mocking smile. “Centaro, is it? I cannot say I have heard of such a place. Judging by the effort placed into this performance, I imagine it is not particularly prosperous.”

Kaldrek moved then, extending his hand with unsettling calm. Evelyne’s heart lurched.

What are you doing?

“Lord Kaldrek Ironwolf,” he said evenly, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “A pleasure.”

Ivan hesitated, surprise flickering across his face before twisting into something near disgust.

“Forgive me,” Kaldrek continued, his head angling slightly, “have I misunderstood your customs, or do southern lords no longer greet one another properly?”

Several nearby guests had begun to watch now.

Ivan had no choice but to extend his hand.

The moment their palms met, Kaldrek tightened his grip. Not enough to draw attention, but more than enough to cause pain.

Ivan’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Kaldrek leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping—low enough that only Ivan and those with heightened senses could hear.

“If you so much as step into the same room as her again,” he said, each word clipped, “I will shove my fucking hand through your chest and rip your heart out.”

His grip tightened further.

“I will tear it apart piece by piece,” he continued, “and leave what remains of you in the dirt.”

Ivan sucked in a breath, but Kaldrek did not release him.

“Our friend Mr. Stonebridge is quite correct,” he said with an easy air, though his eyes were anything but. “We are not the sort of men you wish to test.” He leaned in again. “And I would strongly advise you to take that warning seriously.”

Evelyne’s gaze swept the room until it landed on her mother. Lady Celeste had gone still mid-conversation, her eyes widening just enough to betray alarm before she excused herself and began moving toward them.