Page 172 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Kaldrek tilted his head. “For your what?”

Bavrick said nothing.

“Careful,” Kaldrek murmured. “You are very close to honesty. I would hate for you to lose your nerve now.”

Bavrick swallowed.

Kaldrek leaned closer, his voice dropping colder still. “Lord and Lady Shaw know. Lady Duskwood knows. Mr. and Mrs. Stonebridge know. By morning, the right families will know exactly what sort of man you are. And judging by the way you are struggling to breathe, I think you understand how quickly influence can move when properly encouraged.”

Ivan’s composure cracked. “Leave my family’s name out of it,” he hissed. “I have no need of these ruined, entitled women anyway.”

Kaldrek moved before Bavrick could draw another breath.

One moment, they stood in polite greeting. The next, Kaldrek had him turned just enough to shield the movement from the crowd, the edge of a dagger pressed beneath Bavrick’s waistcoat.

Bavrick went rigid.

“You are a fucking idiot,” Kaldrek said softly. “Do you know that?”

Bavrick’s breath shook.

“Listen carefully. You will leave Velenshire tonight. You will not approach Evelyne. You will not speak her name. You will not so much as look in her direction if the gods are foolish enough to put you in the same room again.” Kaldrek pressed the blade just enough for Bavrick to feel the promise of it. “If you do, I will put this through your flesh, sling your drunken body over my shoulder, and drag you out of here myself. And no one will question a thing.”

Bavrick’s eyes dropped. “Please,” he whispered. “Please. I mean no harm. I will leave. I swear it. Just do not ruin my family name.”

Kaldrek let him tremble for another moment.

Then he withdrew the blade and slid it back beneath his waistcoat with the same calm he had worn all evening.

“Good,” he said. “Now go.”

And Ivan had gone. Kaldrek had watched him disappear into the festival crowd, carrying his fear with him like a second skin.

It had not been blood, but it had been enough.

***

The new estate stood at the edge of two worlds.

From the front, it looked like any noble home in the southern territories, with sun-warmed stone walls, tall windows framed in climbing ivy, and gardens arranged in neat, careful rows. But beyond the back fields, the land softened into something wilder. The orchards gave way to open grass, and the grass to forest, where the trees grew thick and ancient and the earth felt alive beneath one’s feet.

That was where Evelyne stood now, barefoot, as she preferred. The grass bent beneath her, cool and damp with morning dew. In the distance, sounds from the clearing carried easily: laughter, the dull thud of training, and the low hum of voices blending together in a way that felt right.

The Ironwolf pack had gathered for morning drills, and among them, woven into them now, were the wolves of Oathroot. They no longer stood apart or hovered uncertainly at the edges. They had found their place. Or perhaps they had made one. Her pack.

Evelyne watched as Zade adjusted his stance beside one of the Ironwolf warriors, his movements sharper and more confident than they had been weeks before. Nearby, Wren corrected another wolf’s footing with quiet patience, while Kaura stood at the center of a smaller group, her voice calm but firm as she guided them through the drill. They had changed, all of them. But what struck Evelyne most was not their strength. It was the way they moved together.

Behind her, the manor doors opened softly.

Aurelia stepped onto the stone terrace with a warm shawl draped loosely over her shoulders. She wore one of her simple day dresses, her hair pinned beneath a soft hat in the effortless style she favored on quieter days. Even dressed for comfort, she still looked perfectly composed.

Some things, Evelyne thought, would never change. Perhaps they were not meant to.

Aurelia paused at the edge of the terrace, quietly watching the training field before her gaze drifted toward the far end of the clearing. Holden stood there with his arms crossed, trying to coax her into joining the drills and failing rather spectacularly to hide how much he enjoyed seeing her dressed exactly as she was.

Evelyne smiled to herself. Holden had not taken well to walls at first. Or structure. Or tea. But he had stayed for Aurelia because he chose to, because he wanted to. And though he still ran with Ironwolf when the wild called him back, he always returned here. To Aurelia’s estate, which somehow had become home to them all.

It had become a meeting ground, a place where no single mark was required and no claim was demanded. Ironwolf, Oathroot, Duskwood, Stonebridge—all were welcome here. Even inside the manor, voices had begun to replace silence. The long dining table was no longer defined by rigid formality, but by life: overlapping voices, shared stories, and the occasional argument that somehow always ended in laughter.