Page 105 of A Sunwoven Ascent

But she could not help it.

Lady Celeste continued. “From what I understand, Mr. Stonebridge has ended his betrothal to my daughter.”

“Mother,” Evelyne rushed to clarify, “I told you—that was a mutual decision.”

“No, it is quite all right, Evelyne,” Alaric cut in. “If a betrothal is dissolved, the responsibility falls to the gentleman. I will bear it.”

Evelyne turned toward him, ready to object, but her mother’s voice rose just enough to reclaim the room.

“I care very little who initiated the separation,” Celeste said evenly. “What matters is how it appears. Society must be informed before speculation begins, particularly if you are both to attend the end-of-year autumn festival in a few weeks.”

Evelyne straightened in her chair. “Absolutely not. I will not be returning to society. I have already made that clear.”

“You will attend,” Celeste replied without hesitation, “but only the festival. It will be sufficient to settle any rumors regarding your association with Mr. Stonebridge.” Her next words came sharper. “And I would appreciate it if you allowed me to finish before interrupting. I am well aware of your preferences, Evelyne. I have been aware of them since you were five years old.”

Evelyne bit down on her tongue, forcing herself into silence as she leaned back into her chair. Her hand found Kaldrek’s beneath the table, fingers curling into his with quiet resolve.

Celeste noticed. Of course she did.

“What, precisely, are you proposing?” Gaviel Stonebridge asked at last.

“We will host one final ball,” she said. “Here. In this house. Just prior to the festival. One in memory of Lord Aron Duskwood.” Her eyes flicked between Evelyne and Alaric. “During the evening, the two of you will formally announce your separation. In the same breath, Evelyne will be introduced with her new betrothal.”

“What?” Evelyne snapped before she could stop herself.

“To the Lord of Centaro,” Celeste replied, frustration threading through her voice as her eyes settled on Kaldrek.

Alaric choked mid-sip, and a stunned silence settled over the table.

Then Holden broke.

An unrestrained laugh burst from him, quickly spiraling into a full cackle as he leaned forward and braced one hand against the table. He tapped the wood several times, as though that might steady him, but the effort only made it worse. Soon he was coughing, struggling to recover his breath.

Across from him, Aurelia stared in open astonishment at the display. The impropriety of it all.

And yet—

Their mother did not so much as flinch.

“With all due respect, Lady Duskwood,” Kaldrek said at last, “I am not a lord.”

“No. We are all aware of that. Society, however, is not. And since few within these lands have ever ventured beyond the veil, there is little risk of anyone contradicting us.”

“You know of the veil as well?” Aurelia asked, her brow furrowing.

“I do.”

“Can you tell us more?” Evelyne asked. “We only learned of it recently from Lord and Lady Shaw.”

Celeste folded her hands neatly atop the table. “There is not much to tell. The veil was woven long ago to protect these lands. It does not conceal us entirely, but rather diverts those who ought not enter. A subtle misdirection. A glamour, of sorts.”

She paused.

“The witches have long maintained that it exists to guard their most powerful source of magic, though I suspect its strength has diminished over time—particularly if all of you were able to pass through it.”

“Vaelora crossed it,” Evelyne said quietly. “When she took Cillian.”

“She created a portal,” Cillian added. “A direct path. But she claimed it cost her greatly—it drained her power to do so.”