Page 58 of A Sunwoven Ascent

“I’m not sure I understand,” Evelyne admitted.

Ravena smiled and placed a steady hand on her shoulder. Evelyne’s eyes drifted to the intricate tattoo winding up Ravena’s arm and along her neck—the clear markings of an alpha, crowned by the small crescent moon near her collarbone. Moonshade.

Ravena noticed and tapped her neck lightly, directly over the mark. “You already feel the urge to protect your mate and your family,” she said. “That is both human and wolf.” Her eyes darkened, thoughtful. “But one day, you will feel that same pull toward others. Toward a group that needs you.”

Evelyne’s brow furrowed. “How will I know?”

“Because packs choose their own,” Ravena said simply. “Not just the family bloodline within them—but the magic bound to them. The same magic that leaves its claim upon us.” She gestured to her markings. “You are exactly where you are meant to be. For now. Do not mistake that for an ending. Your story is only beginning.”

Evelyne did not know how to answer. She felt confused, yes, but also seen. Honored, even. And strangely steadied by the attention of a female who owed her nothing. Ravena was not bound to Kaldrek and had no duty to guide her. Yet she stood there all the same, offering something quiet and rare.

Evelyne smiled softly, her thoughts churning long after Ravena had returned to her pack, leaving silence—and possibility—in her wake.

“Should I be worried,” Heidara asked mildly, appearing at Evelyne’s side, “or was that one of those conversations where an alpha stares into your soul and decides your fate?”

“Nothing so dramatic. Just a brief discussion of wolf customs, training methods. That sort of thing.”

Heidara eyed her skeptically. “Mm. I’m sure that’s all.”

“It is,” Evelyne said, smiling. “Truly.”

Heidara rolled her eyes and dropped onto a crate, tugging at the straps of her pack. “Well, while you were being quietly assessed by the Moonshade alpha, I was trying not to commit murder.”

Evelyne glanced at her. “Beau?”

“Obviously.” Heidara’s mouth twisted. “I still cannot believe he tried to swing at Alaric. Drunk or not.” She shook her head, then groaned. “And we were so close, Ev. So close to actually kissing.”

Evelyne’s brows lifted. “You were?”

“Yes,” Heidara said at once. “And it was beautiful. And perfect. You know, the sort of moment that does not come often.” Her scowl darkened. “And then Beau had to become… whatever foul thing took hold of him. I am sorry, is this too strange to speak of? I know you and Alaric—”

“Not at all,” Evelyne said, motioning for her to continue. “Go on.”

Heidara sighed, then added more softly, “Alaric is doing better, though. I checked on him this morning.”

A small knot loosened in Evelyne’s chest. “I’m glad.”

“He was dizzy for a bit,” Heidara continued, shrugging. “But I think it was just nerves. He was wound tight all night. You could practically hear his heart trying to leap out of his chest.” A grin tugged at her mouth. “Poor thing.”

Evelyne smiled. “That does sound like nerves.”

“Exactly. He’s been looking at me like he’s wanted to kiss me for days. I’d wager anything on it.”

Evelyne laughed and secured the final strap on her pack. “Then you should stop standing here talking to me and go find him.”

Heidara blinked. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” Evelyne said, amused. “We’re heading into the Mokkvyrn Forest, Heidara. That dark, miserable stretch of wilderness, and autumn has already begun sinking its teeth into the air.” She nodded toward the distant treeline. “If there’s anything you mean to say—or do—you would be wise not to keep delaying it.”

Heidara hesitated, then smiled to herself. “Fine,” she said. “But if I miss him because you distracted me—”

“I will take full responsibility,” Evelyne promised.

With a laugh, Heidara slung her pack over her shoulder and set off through the camp.

Chapter 27

Alaric sat on a sun-warmed rock at the edge of camp, late-morning light filtering through the thinning leaves above. Laughter moved easily through the air, the kind that only came when danger felt far enough away to forget for a moment. Nearby, Cillian sat cross-legged in the dirt, speaking with restless hands.