Page 6 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Kaldrek smirked. “Enjoying your birthday gift? Good story?”

Evelyne smiled tightly, managing only a muffled “Mhm.”

She enjoyed the story Kaldrek had given her immensely. It was a welcome escape from the harshness of their journey, a charming world of witches and wonder woven through the pages. She was thoroughly exhausted by sigils and ancient blood rites; she needed something lighter—something magical, something… romantic. And that was precisely what this book offered. A refuge she slipped into gladly each morning with the rising sun.

He laughed under his breath. “If it’s giving you that much trouble, you could always use your fangs.”

She swallowed and raised her brows. “My fangs?”

Kaldrek bared the sharp edges of his canines in a playful smile, sealing it with a wink that set butterflies loose in her chest. How he could make something so simple feel so intoxicating was beyond her, and she realized she didn’t care, so long as it was meant only for her.

“At breakfast?” She let out a soft laugh. “I can see it now—my mother gasping, clutching her pearls, and declaring me entirely unfit for polite company. No, Kaldrek. A lady does not bare her teeth at the table.” She mumbled the last part, covering her mouth as she finished her bite.

“Suit yourself,” Kaldrek said, tearing into his own portion with ease. “But the meat won’t get any softer just because you glare at it.”

She smirked despite herself, though the thought of her mother dimmed her amusement.

“I do miss her,” she murmured.

Kaldrek’s arm tightened around her. “I know. We’ll get you home.”

She knew he would. But the word, home, clung to her chest. What was home now? And what lay waiting in the southern lands? She was glad Kaldrek never pressured her into deciding her future. Maybe it was time to open up to him about what thoughts were plaguing her.

At last she managed to chew the meat down enough to swallow, then turned fully toward him. “Do you ever feel drawn to dark magic?” The question escaped before she could catch it. Gods, where was her filter?

Kaldrek stilled, halfway through a bite, and swallowed hard. “What?”

Evelyne folded her hands tightly in her lap, already feeling the heat in her cheeks. “I meant no disrespect. I only wondered whether the thought of wielding the magic within you ever feels… compelling.” She grimaced softly. “That is not coming out as I intended.”

His brows pulled together. “Evelyne…”

Yet she pressed on, unable to leave the thought alone now that it had surfaced. “After that night, I found myself thinking about your strength. About everything you carry. And I wondered whether you ever think about what might live inside you. Not because I believe you would ever become like her. I only mean… whether you ever question what you may have inherited.”

Kaldrek stared at her. “Inherited from her?”

She flinched. “I know. That sounds dreadful. I meant her power, not her cruelty.”

He stood at once and turned away, pacing a few sharp steps before a bitter laugh slipped from him. “Her power was her cruelty, Evelyne. It was part of everything she was. You think I would ever want that? After everything she did to me? To all of us?”

Her stomach dropped. She never should have given voice to the thought. Of course he would never seek the kind of magic his mother wielded. What a callous, thoughtless thing to suggest. Evelyne pressed her palms to her face, mortified by the words she had let slip.

“I’m sorry. Truly. I never meant it as an insult. I only—”

“So that is what has been gnawing at you?” Kaldrek cut in, his voice sharp. “Some fear that I am going to become what, exactly? A monster like the woman who murdered my parents?”

“Kaldrek, please.” Evelyne’s voice warmed. “Sit. I only want to speak plainly, to let the thought out before it devours me entirely. It has begun creeping into my sleep, and—”

He gave a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “You need to ‘let it out’ by telling me you fear I will become her?” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Evelyne, I do not even know how to use magic, and I have even less desire to learn.”

He turned on his heel, fury pouring off him. She had misstepped terribly. His anger and hurt burned through their bond, hot as flame beneath her skin. Perhaps she should let him go, let the storm run its course. But the dream of his hands around her throat, his eyes cold and black as night, had haunted her for days. She could not let him walk away without explaining, not while that fear still clung so tightly to her.

“Please,” she whispered, reaching for him. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

“I have a pack to lead,” he said, his voice hard as steel.

Then he strode away, leaving her alone with the echo of his anger and the hollow ache of regret.

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