Page 89 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Alaric looked at her sharply, but she had already lowered her gaze.

Lady Mireya rose from her seat and smoothed the front of her gown. “Well, that is quite enough ancient history for one evening. You are all exhausted.”

Corvin nodded. “You will remain here tonight. Your wolves may stay in the outer fields, but Velenshire must never see them.”

Kaldrek inclined his head. “That will not be a problem. I will join them and inform the group.”

Mireya looked him over with open appreciation before offering a warm smile. “Then I suggest baths, proper beds, and a few hours of sleep before the fate of the world resumes in the morning.”

Chairs shifted as the group began to rise. But Evelyne’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Wait.” She turned to Alaric. “You should warn them. They deserve to know what is coming.” Her gaze shifted to Lord and Lady Shaw, fear still shadowing her eyes. “These are no longer stories. The horrors are real—and dangerous.”

Alaric held her gaze, and understanding passed silently between them. Then he turned back to the table.

“Lord Corvin. Lady Mireya. If you would remain seated a little longer?”

“Lady Evelyne, we are quite aware of what lies beyond—”

“No, Lord Corvin,” Evelyne said, her voice steady. “Respectfully, you are not. You have not seen the monsters roaming beyond our borders. We have. And from what I have gathered tonight, you do not yet have a plan. We will need one. So please.”

She looked to Alaric once more.

The servants hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances, but Corvin returned to his chair with visible reluctance.

Alaric drew a long breath. And then he told them everything.

From the moment he and Evelyne first left Caltheris to the long road north; the battles fought, the lives lost, and the corruption they had uncovered along the way. He spoke of Vaelora’s rise, the Noskari born from her blood magic, and the darkness that had begun spreading beneath the world like a sickness in the roots of the land. He spoke of the caverns and ruins, of creatures twisted by ancient power, and of the terrible truth that something still lingered beneath the ground not far from Velenshire itself.

The veil had hidden the southern territories for generations. But it would not hold forever. And when the Noskari finally found their way through it, Velenshire would not remain untouched.

Chapter 40

Cillian did not protest the idea of a warm bath, even if it was not within the comfort of his own home. Shaw Manor possessed more than enough bathing chambers and guest rooms to accommodate their entire group, though Evelyne had chosen to return outside to the pack.

He suspected she wished to be with her mate. Or perhaps the open air had simply become more natural to her now. The wilderness suited Evelyne in a way the walls of any manor never truly could. He could not blame her for wanting to spend the night with them—to reassure the wolves that they were safe here. Or at least… that they hoped they were.

Aurelia, of course, had chosen a chamber within the manor. Cillian hoped the solitude might grant her some measure of peace, something he suspected she desperately needed after all she had endured. He had always been the quiet one, but quiet did not mean blind. He noticed everything, and he knew Aurelia well enough to recognize the strain she tried so carefully to conceal: the bright conversation at dinner, the way she filled silences with light chatter rather than answer questions about where she had been. They were defenses, subtle shields she had learned to wield. Aurelia truly did love cosmetics, silk gowns, tea blends, and market gossip, but her habit of turning to them whenever matters grew uncomfortable was something else entirely. It was how she avoided the deeper questions. How she protected herself.

They had never been close, not as he and Evelyne were, yet Aurelia had always cared for him in the only language she knew—offering tea when he seemed withdrawn, suggesting styles that might suit him, or sharing the latest court scandal involving girls his age. He had never resented it. If anything, he understood it now. And he knew, with a certainty that settled heavily in his chest, that when Aurelia learned the truth of their father’s death, it would shatter the fragile world she had so carefully built around herself.

Tomorrow. He and Evelyne had agreed. They would tell Aurelia after she had rested, after her mind had steadied, and when their mother could hear the truth beside her.

For tonight, silence would have to be enough.

Cillian sank deeper into the steaming water, lowering himself until the warmth surrounded his shoulders. He took a slow breath and slipped beneath the surface, holding it there as he tried—truly tried—to release the weight of everything he had seen.

The battles.

The fear.

The darkness that had followed them north and back again.

For a brief moment, he let himself drift into the empty space where thoughts dissolved and nothing demanded his strength. Yet as he tried to clear his mind, another image slipped in unbidden.

Alia.

The blonde-haired servant who worked for the Stonebridge family. The girl who had come from the grove.