Page 121 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Nathan offered a hand, but he ignored it. “I’m fine,” he muttered, already resetting his stance. Yet his mind was no longer on the fight. Everything seemed to be building toward something, and he was not ready for it. He needed to end training for the day and think.

When the session finally ended, Alaric went straight to Heidara. A bright smile broke across her face, lighting her mud-streaked cheeks despite the damp strands of hair clinging to her skin.

“I can’t stay long,” she said, brushing her hands over her leathers. “I’m meant to meet Aurelia shortly, once I’ve cleaned up. You may join us, if you like.” She tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. “I believe today’s lesson involves proper conversation for ladies.”

“That sounds remarkably dull,” Alaric replied with a soft laugh.

“I quite agree. Though I will admit, the dressing has been entertaining. The gowns are beautiful, if entirely impractical. I can’t imagine Evelyne endured such things every day.”

“I am exceedingly grateful to have been born a man. The corsets alone seem a form of torture.” Alaric’s smile turned more playful. “Though I confess, I am rather looking forward to seeing you in one.”

Heidara snorted softly. “You will not be disappointed. Aurelia chose something particularly revealing in the chest area. Her exact words were that it might distract the room should my ‘uncivilized tendencies’ appear.”

Alaric raised his brows, the image making his thoughts falter enough that he had to clear his throat.

“I am certain you would draw attention regardless,” he said, softer now. “Though I imagine you will look exceptional in whatever you choose to wear.” He hesitated only a moment. “I should like to escort you, if you would allow it.”

“I would very much like that, Mr. Stonebridge,” Heidara said with a wink.

Chapter 50

The last two days had been unusually calm. Or at least, calmer than Evelyne expected.

Preparations for the Duskwood Manor ball had filled nearly every waking hour, leaving little room for anything else. Still, the quiet between moments felt deceptive, like the pause before a storm. Evelyne’s nerves had been steadily unraveling at the thought of stepping back into society—of standing before a room full of nobles and declaring herself betrothed to Kaldrek, Lord of Centaro.

She hated to admit how terrified it made her.

Kaldrek, to her surprise, had taken to the performance far better than expected. He wore the role with almost natural ease, though she knew how much he loathed it—the stiff clothing, the expectations, the required composure. She also knew he would never go anywhere unarmed, which meant that even in a waistcoat, he would likely have a dagger tucked beneath it or into his boot. Some things could not be changed, and truthfully, she loved how protected she felt beside him.

Recently, however, Aurelia had requested a different sort of preparation: peace and quiet from the males. She insisted upon it, though Evelyne suspected the request was aimed most directly at Holden. He had been off ever since the incident in the tea room, and refused to talk about it. Kaldrek had offered no explanation, and while Evelyne had tried to respect that, her curiosity was beginning to wear thin.

Today, though, Holden was nowhere near the tea room. And still, something was wrong with Aurelia.

It was only her, Evelyne, and Heidara now, gathered once again for another attempt at refining their “proper conversation.” Evelyne and Heidara had hurried to clean themselves and arrive on time, but the moment they stepped through the doorway, Aurelia nearly snapped. Now she paced the length of the room, a fan clutched tightly in her hand as she moved it rapidly before her face, the motion frantic rather than elegant.

“Is it just me,” she asked, the words clipped, “or is it unbearably warm in here today? I cannot seem to get comfortable.”

Evelyne frowned slightly. The room was cool, if anything. The season had shifted, and the hearth had not yet been lit.

“No,” she said carefully. “It is not warm.”

Aurelia did not seem to hear her. She could not sit still. Her fingers tugged at her sleeves, then at the neckline of her dress, then back again, as though nothing sat quite right against her skin.

“Goodness,” Aurelia muttered, pressing a hand briefly to her temple. “My apologies—I do not know what has come over me. Let us begin.”

She reached for her glass of water and drank it down far too quickly.

“Tell me, Heidara,” she said, forcing a smile, “what do you most enjoy in your spare time within the eastern lands?”

Heidara brightened at once. “Oh, I very much enjoy tending to flowers on warm days. The colors—pink, purple—they make me feel—”

“Too much,” Aurelia cut in, her tone sharp. “You do not need to embellish so greatly. Try again.”

She adjusted her bodice again.

And again.

Evelyne stood. “Aurelia—are you well?”