Page 51 of A Sunwoven Ascent

As the night stretched on, Evelyne found herself settled at a corner table with Kaldrek, Heidara, and Holden. Heidara still treated her brother with coldness, but the fact that they could sit together at all without sparks flying felt like its own kind of progress. And tonight, that was enough. Alaric was himself again. Everyone was still here. Still breathing. Still whole.

Holden pushed back his chair and lifted his brows at the table. “Another round?”

“I can fetch my own drink,” Heidara snapped. “I am perfectly capable of making my own choices and performing tasks without assistance.”

Holden lifted his hands in surrender. “All right, then. Think of it as a peace offering, little sis.” He rested a hand briefly on her shoulder and she rolled her eyes. “And,” he added, “as an apology for being an ass.”

Kaldrek grinned into his mug, clearly agreeing.

Heidara laughed. “Yes, Holden. You are an ass. A truly impressive one.” She slapped his hand away. “And I suppose I’ll have to accept that my brother will forever be a pain in mine. Now go get me a drink.”

Holden ruffled her hair in response, but before stepping away, his tone warmed.

“I know you care about him,” he said quietly. “Alaric, I mean. I won’t pretend I like it…” He hesitated, then nodded. “But he’s a good man.”

“Yes,” Heidara replied without hesitation. “He is.”

Holden met her gaze. “I won’t interfere where your heart is concerned.”

“Thank you.”

He straightened, his voice lifting again. “Unless he turns into a dick. Then all bets are off.”

“Holden,” Kaldrek said dryly, “go get the ale.”

Laughter rippled around the table.

The night eased into stories and shared warmth, the fire burning low as plans slowly gave way to farewells. Evelyne and Kaldrek lingered longer than they should have once they returned to their lodge, the quiet hours slipping by far too easily. She would regret the lost sleep come morning—but not enough to wish it undone.

By dawn, they were moving again.

Chapter 24

Eda, loving as ever, had secured horses for Alaric and Cillian, along with a few more to carry extra supplies and ease the burden on the elders if the journey grew too hard, though no wolf would ever admit to such a need. The packs were stocked carefully for the road south: food, spare clothes, medicine, and whatever else might be needed for a long passage through a changing season. Once everything was loaded, Eda hugged them all goodbye, tied her apron back into place, and marched off shouting for her husband to bring her dough so she could start more bread. The sight of it made Evelyne smile. They had not changed, and she dearly hoped they never would.

Autumn was gentler here in Centaro. The air lacked the savage bite of Nerathar’s winds, which could cut to the bone even in summer. Even so, Evelyne found herself drawn to the edges of the Sunmere Stretch, where the trees had begun to turn in shades of amber and rust. The days were clear and cool, and the nights calm enough for orderly camps and steady patrols as the packs continued south together.

Evelyne volunteered for watch once. Kaldrek dismissed the idea at once.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a laugh. “You’ll be in my tent every night, where I know you’re safe.”

She told herself she ought to bristle at that. She never did. The truth was, she loved the fierce way he guarded her, and the safety she felt in his care. Whenever he was not scouting, she stole what quiet moments she could with him.

Each morning broke beneath a clear blue sky, with a soft breeze rolling over the open grasslands. The weather allowed for longer training sessions, and with them came steady progress in her fighting and defensive skills. Alaric had grown strong enough to join them again, and watching him move freely each morning filled her with such relief it almost hurt. The healthy color returning to his skin made it easier to believe that, against all odds, they might truly stand a chance against the monsters hunting them.

Cillian trained as well, though not with blades or sparring. His focus was magic. More often than not, Evelyne found him reading: Selene’s books, Lorena’s notes, anything the packs carried that might offer insight. It was entirely in keeping with who he was. He was not gaining strength the way the warriors of Moonshade, Glaciermaw, and Ironwolf did, but his strength had never lived in muscle. It lived in his mind, in his intelligence, his quiet courage, and that relentless optimism that refused to leave him.

Watching him push himself still frightened her. Yet she could see it now: he was becoming himself again. And if he never chose to shift, that was all right. Strangest of all, Holden had continued helping him master his impulses. Evelyne liked Holden well enough, but she had never imagined him in the role of mentor. Still, he met with Cillian nearly every day. When she finally asked about it, her brother only laughed.

“He’s probably the only friend I’ve made here,” Cillian said.

A friend. The most arrogant, stubborn, unfiltered male in the Ironwolf pack, Kaldrek’s own second, no less, had somehow become Cillian’s closest companion. An unlikely match, perhaps, yet Evelyne could not help wondering whether Holden needed Cillian just as much. Someone to temper his temper. Someone to slow him down.

“Honestly,” Cillian had told her, “it’s nice speaking to another male who isn’t obsessed with estates, wealth, or debutantes. He’s just… real.”

That, Evelyne understood. It was much the same with Heidara.

“Well,” she had teased, “just do not let his more appalling habits rub off on you.”