Page 97 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Lady Celeste recoiled.

“You have ruined yourself for a wolf,” she said coldly. “How could you possibly do such a thing?”

“I am not ruined,” Evelyne answered. “I am alive. I am a wolf now, and I am his mate. I would bleed and die for him, just as he would for me. That is a choice I made for myself. Alaric understands it. The other shifters understand it. You must learn to understand it as well.”

Lady Celeste let out a strained breath. “First your sister, and now you,” she murmured in disbelief. “What am I meant to do with you both?”

“Why must you do anything at all?” Evelyne replied. “You have just learned that Father was murdered by creatures not far beyond Velenshire, and yet this is what occupies your thoughts?”

“Do not mistake my concern for your future as indifference toward your father’s death,” Lady Celeste said, the words clipped. “I may not have been his mate, my dear, but I was his wife. I built a family with him. I loved him dearly—something you will never fully understand now that you have tied your life to that wolf outside.”

“His name is Kaldrek,” Evelyne said evenly. “And I have already known more love with him than I believed possible in an entire lifetime. If you choose not to believe that, it changes nothing. There is nothing here to fix.” She pushed back her chair and rose from the table. Turning toward the door, she added, “If you will excuse me, I intend to spend my time with the man I love. I believe it may be wise for you to gather yourself, Mother.”

Evelyne did not bother to push her chair back beneath the table. She stepped from the dining room, finding Kaldrek waiting just beyond the doorway. She slipped her hand into his and began leading him toward the staircase that rose to the upper floor.

“Shall I prepare a bath for you, my lady?” Seraphine asked kindly.

Before Evelyne could reply, her mother’s voice carried down the corridor behind them.

“No, Seraphine. That will not be necessary,” Lady Celeste replied. “After all, this is no longer Evelyne’s home.”

Evelyne paused only long enough to offer her faithful handmaid a gentle smile.

“She is quite right,” she breathed. “But thank you, Seraphine.”

With that, she turned away.

Hand in hand with Kaldrek, she walked from the house that had once been her home—and did not look back.

Chapter 43

Alaric made his way along the path bordering his mother’s garden, already certain he would find her there. Vera had always preferred her flowers to the confines of the house, tending to them in all seasons and nearly every sort of weather.

This morning, however, the day was kind. Sunlight warmed the stone paths, and a soft breeze stirred the leaves overhead. Alaric still wore the borrowed clothes he had taken from the Velenshire market, though he had at least managed a proper bath and meal at Shaw Manor before setting out at first light.

Alia had come with him. He had escorted her quietly into the house before the rest of the household stirred, and she slipped back into her morning duties as though she had never left. His father, she mentioned, was already out overseeing trade arrangements and the season’s shifting goods, and would not return until evening. For now, the house belonged to stillness, familiar walls, and his mother—a perfect time to seek her out.

Vera stood among the flower beds in her wide-brimmed sunhat and gloves, watering can in hand as she moved from bloom to bloom. She hummed softly to herself, a light, absent-minded tune that seemed to belong more to the garden than to her.

Alaric paused for a moment, watching her. She looked… peaceful. Untouched by the things he had seen.

“Good morning, Mother.”

Vera lifted her head at once, peering up from beneath the brim of her hat. A smile spread across her face the instant she saw him.

“I knew you would return today,” she said warmly. “Oh, how I have missed you.”

She set the watering can aside and crossed the garden quickly, gathering him into a firm embrace.

Alaric let out a soft breath, returning it.

“You knew?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Vera pulled back just enough to look at him. “I always know such things,” she said. “The wind speaks, if one is willing to listen.”

He gave a small huff of laughter. “Yes… you said as much more than once throughout my childhood.”

“Well,” she replied lightly, slipping her arm through his, “perhaps you may finally choose to believe me.” She gave his arm a gentle tug. “Come, you must be famished. We shall have something brought out at once, and you will tell me everything. I never doubted you would find your way back to me.”