Page 61 of A Sunwoven Ascent

“I knew I’d grow on you.”

“Like frostbite,” she replied sweetly.

Obren puffed out his chest. “Maturity does that.”

A snort rippled through the group, even from Holden.

Obren turned toward Evelyne and bowed deeply, taking her hand in his own. He pressed a kiss to the air just above her knuckles—careful not to let his lips touch her skin. Evelyne did not need to glance at Kaldrek to know exactly how short Obren’s life would be if he crossed that line.

“My dear Lady Evelyne,” he declared, straightening. “It has been a pleasure to travel beside such beauty. Even if I could not sweep you from your feet as impressively as an Ironwolf male.”

Evelyne lifted her chin. “Careful now, Obren. We were all just starting to like you. I would hate for my mate to grow territorial before we part.”

A slow grin curved his mouth. “Ah. The mate-bond. A most inconvenient obstacle. I’m fairly certain I would have won you over, given enough time.”

“Given enough delusion, perhaps.”

Obren leaned closer, lowering his voice as though confiding something scandalous. “I believe I was meant for the south, Evelyne. Dresses, corsets, sharp-tongued women. It feels like destiny.”

“I am certain you would flourish there,” she replied dryly. “In fact, I know the perfect woman back home to keep you thoroughly… occupied.”

Callista Evermere’s razor-edged voice flashed through Evelyne’s mind. The thought of Obren trying to spar with that particular wretch was almost enough to make her laugh. Almost. But the image of him anywhere near Callista soured the amusement at once.

Obren’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Tempting.” He ruffled Cillian’s hair next. “I like you, kid. But next time I see you, I expect to see more fangs. Just because the first shift was unpleasant doesn’t mean it isn’t your calling.”

Cillian nodded solemnly, though pride flickered in his gaze.

When Obren finally turned to Kaldrek, the theatrics fell away. No jokes. No smirks. Only a quiet incline of the head, which Kaldrek returned in kind. Holden followed suit. It was the closest the two packs came to open respect. Tolerance lay between them, but it no longer tasted bitter.

Obren turned to his second, and Thorne answered with a knowing nod. It was time. One by one, the Glaciermaw wolves shifted, bones snapping and fur rippling beneath the fading light. Evelyne swallowed against the sudden rush of emotion. They had stood beside her through Vaelora’s fall. Through the suffocating tunnels. Through the relentless battles against the Noskari. They had bled with the Ironwolves. And now they were going.

Evelyne’s gaze lingered on Obren a heartbeat longer than she intended. Beneath the arrogance and laughter, he had lost more than he let anyone see.

This chapter of her life had been carved in fear and fire. And she would never forget it.

They were less than an hour from Velenshire’s trading outpost—the very place where darkness had first begun to unravel Evelyne’s life. Where horror had crept in quietly and changed everything.

It should have felt like nearing home. Instead, it felt like standing on the threshold of something she no longer recognized.

Home…

She wasn’t certain she knew what that word meant anymore.

***

“You must be eager to see your mother and sister again,” Heidara said once they shifted back into their human forms, careful not to alarm the individuals lodged at the outpost.

“Yes,” Evelyne answered softly. “Very much. It’s been too long.”

“And so much has happened. Have you thought about how you’ll tell them?”

Evelyne’s steps slowed.

How did one begin to explain that her father had been slaughtered by shadow-born creatures—demons of blood forged by an immortal witch? That her brother had nearly become a thrall beneath a celestial blood moon? That her bloodline carried wolf magic? That she loved an alpha—was mated to one? That everything they once believed about their world was wrong? And that there was still more she didn’t fully understand?

She would be returning to silk gowns and tea trays. To noble halls and polite conversation. To a world that had never prepared her for claws and fangs and ancient magic. That was, of course, assuming the Noskari had not already reached the southern territories. She could not bear to imagine her mother, or Seraphine, or anyone she loved swallowed by that darkness.

“No,” she admitted. “I haven’t.”