Page 37 of A Sunwoven Ascent

“You want to talk now.”

Evelyne shifted subtly closer, not touching Heidara, but there. A wall at her shoulder. A witness.

Beau’s gaze flicked to Evelyne. “Could we have a moment?”

Evelyne smiled politely. It was the same smile she’d worn at court when someone said something unforgivable and expected her to swallow it.

“No.”

Beau blinked. “I’m not asking you to—”

“You are,” Evelyne cut in, still smiling. “And I’m declining.”

A muscle ticked in Beau’s cheek. “Fine,” he said, voice roughening. “Then you can both hear it.” He swallowed. “Heidara, I’m sorry.”

Heidara’s laugh was sharp. “Oh. That fixes it.”

“I was younger,” Beau said quickly. “I was stupid. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“The right thing for who?” Heidara snapped. “You?”

Beau’s shoulders sank. “My pack was moving,” he said. “There were threats, shifting territory, orders. I didn’t know where we’d end up, or if we’d ever come back. I didn’t want to drag you into something unstable. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So you left,” she whispered. “And let me believe it was because you’d found your mate? You left me after telling me you loved me.”

Beau’s mouth parted, then closed again. When he spoke, his voice had gone quieter. “I know. I know I did.”

Evelyne watched Heidara’s hands tighten around the rope until her knuckles paled. The anger still held in her face, but only just. Exhaustion was beginning to wear it away.

Beau stepped closer with care. “I still…” His throat worked. “I still love you.”

Heidara’s breath caught, almost too soft to hear.

Evelyne’s eyes narrowed, not at Heidara, but at Beau. Words were easy. Men spent them like coin and expected something in return.

“You cannot simply return and say that as though it mends anything,” Heidara said, her voice fraying. “I will not forget the pain you caused me.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” Beau replied. “Only to believe that I am sorry. That I have been sorry all this time.”

Heidara turned her face away, blinking too fast. For a fleeting moment, she looked achingly young. Wounded. Human. Not the fearless wolf who had never once apologized for existing loudly in the world.

Evelyne let her have that second of softness. Then she stepped in.

“We leave at first light,” she said, tone firm but not unkind. “And we still have tents to pack, routes to plan, and an infected nobleman sleeping in the next lodge who could wake up wrong again.” Her gaze sharpened on Beau. “If you want to prove anything, prove it by doing your job. Help your pack, keep watch, and stop trying to peel open old wounds in the middle of a threat.”

Beau’s eyes stayed on Heidara, though he offered no argument. Instead, he reached for her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, as though a single gesture might rewrite the past.

Evelyne had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She was honestly surprised Heidara did not strike him again. Heidara only stared at her hand as though it belonged to someone else while Beau stepped back, turned, and disappeared into the camp. Without a word, she wiped the back of her hand against her trousers as if trying to scrub away the memory, then bent to lift another bundle of supplies. Evelyne said nothing. She only moved to her friend’s side, shoulder to shoulder, and kept packing.

Chapter 18

They walked. They ran. They hunted. They trained until their muscles remembered and slept until their bones stopped shaking. They ate on the move and learned to move as one, three packs braided into a single force with two shared truths at the center of it: the Noskari had to die, and they had to continue their journey south.

The plan for what came after reaching Cindermoor should have been simple. It was anything but. They all wanted the same end, but not the same path. Obren argued for the southwest, certain other packs would still be hiding there. Ravena pressed for the eastern edge, convinced some may have drifted in that direction. Kaldrek insisted they go first to Caltheris, Evelyne’s home, because he would not ask her to keep walking without knowing her family was safe. And Evelyne could not help thinking the witch covens of Velenshire might prove just as important.

So each day the alphas met with their most trusted scouts over maps, distances, and impossible choices. And each day Kaldrek gave her the same quiet promise: they would not leave behind what mattered most to her. Evelyne understood why no plan felt right. They were all carrying losses of their own, along with separate duties and unfinished grief. Though they were stronger together, she could not ignore the truth that sooner or later they might have to divide if they hoped to cover enough ground. The thought unsettled her. United, they were safer. But the world was wide, and time was not waiting for them.

What steadied her was Kaldrek himself. Whole again. Maybe stronger than before, fueled by near-death and the fury of being hunted. He moved like a male who had decided he would not be caught off guard again, and if anger sharpened him, Evelyne would not be the one to dull it.