Chapter 12
Afew days had passed since Evelyne had urged her father to consider how beneficial it might be for Cillian to spend some time away from the house.
To her surprise, he had brought Cillian along to Velenshire.
Since their return, Evelyne hadn’t interacted much with her brother; he spent most of his time buried in the library or tucked away in his room.
Now, as she stared out of the carriage window, watching the vibrant greenery of fields and trees gradually give way to the bustling cobblestone streets of Caltheris, the sight of the grand market looming closer made thoughts of Cillian drift away.
Despite Aurelia’s excitement, Evelyne was less than thrilled at the prospect of shopping for the upcoming ball.
Her sister’s insistence had been overwhelming, and left little room for refusal.
“But you simply must come to help me find a dress for my last ball before returning home,” she had pleaded. “And you, too, might find something rather nice! Pleeeease?” She had drawn out the word, a soft, irresistible coaxing. Evelyne had agreed, figuring some fresh air couldn’t hurt.
The sun had already begun to dip below the horizon when their carriage rattled to a stop. The streets were alive with merchants calling out to shoppers. As they stepped out, Aurelia immediately linked arms with Evelyne and guided her toward the market, her excitement palpable.
The jewelry shop they entered first was elegant, its wooden shelves lined with velvet trays displaying glimmering treasures under golden lamps. Aurelia’s face lit up as she picked up a necklace adorned with intricate emerald drops.
“Evelyne, look at this!” she exclaimed, holding it up to her neck and turning to admire her reflection. “Isn’t it exquisite? Imagine how it would catch the light during the ball.”
Evelyne smiled. “Yes, it is stunning. Almost distractingly so. Do you want people staring at the necklace or looking at you?”
Aurelia laughed, brushing off her remark. “Don’t be ridiculous, sister. Accessories elevate an outfit. Speaking of which, these earrings would be perfect for you!” She held out a pair of sparkling teardrop gems.
“Perfectly unnecessary,” Evelyne quipped, inspecting them with feigned interest. “But if I must endure the season, I might as well blind everyone with my dazzling lobes.”
Aurelia shook her head with an affectionate grin. “You’re hopeless, Evelyne.”
“Hopeless but amusing,” Evelyne shot back, placing the earrings back on the display.
After some time, Aurelia clasped her hands together decisively. “I think I’ve seen enough here. There’s a dress shop down the street I must visit before we leave. Will you come with me?”
Evelyne paused, then gestured vaguely toward the street. “Actually, I spotted an antique bookstore nearby. I’ll meet you at the carriage in an hour—or the dress shop if I get bored of musty old tomes.”
Aurelia sighed dramatically. “Fine, but don’t lose track of time. I’m not waiting all evening for you to dig through dusty books.”
“Noted,” Evelyne said with a mock salute, earning an eye roll from Aurelia as she turned to leave.
Evelyne stepped out of the bustling market street and into the hushed serenity of the bookshop.
The world seemed to still as she crossed the threshold, the lively clamor of nobles and merchants replaced by the soothing creak of wooden floors and the faint rustle of pages.
The air smelled faintly of cedar and parchment, a nostalgic aroma that wrapped around her like an old friend.
She moved slowly through the aisles, her gloved fingers brushing over leather-bound spines embossed with faded gold titles.
“Looking for anything in particular?” came a gentle voice.
Evelyne turned to find the shopkeeper watching her. He was an older man, his eyes glinting with the mischief of a thousand untold stories. A wiry gray beard framed his warm, knowing smile.
“Not exactly,” she replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Something for my brother. He’s been… unwell.”
The man nodded and disappeared behind a wall of books without a word. Evelyne watched, a faint unease prickling at her, but he returned moments later with a small book. Its leather cover was worn, but it was clear it had been cherished.
“This,” he said, holding the book out to her, “is for him.”
Evelyne’s brow furrowed as she studied the weathered volume. Its deep green cover bore intricate gold lettering. The title, The Lantern’s Keeper, sparked curiosity within her.
“What is it?” she asked.
As the man shifted, she met the unwavering gaze of his gray-blue eyes. “It’s a story,” he said, pausing just long enough for the meaning to deepen. “And perhaps… a guide for him.”
“For him?” she repeated, her fingers brushing against the edge of the book as though it might burn her. “How could you possibly know what he—”
“A good bookseller always knows,” he interrupted with a wink.
He placed the book in her hands. And though Evelyne still didn’t understand, its weight brought a quiet comfort. As her hands closed around it, a strange feeling rose in her chest. Like a hum of recognition, or a sense of connection.
“It feels… right,” she murmured, half to herself.
The old man only smiled and whispered, “I knew it would be.”
She paid for the book and tucked it into her coat pocket before leaving the shop.
Outside, the market buzzed around her, but Evelyne’s mind stayed on the book and the strange encounter.
Lanterns glowed as nobles drifted between stalls, and she offered polite smiles, eager to reach the carriage and examine her gift.
Yet as she walked, the streets suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Evelyne paused, realizing she had taken a wrong turn.
The crowd thinned, and the market chatter seemed to fade into an unsettling quiet.
Her pulse quickened as she tried to retrace her steps, her hand tightening instinctively around the book in her pocket.
Spinning on her heel, she sought to rejoin the busy thoroughfare when a shadow fell across her path.
“Lady Evelyne,” came a voice she knew all too well.
Lord Ivan Bavrick approached slowly, a smile on his lips, his steps encroaching on her space.
She offered a curt nod, masking her unease. “Good evening, Lord Bavrick.”
“It’s a shame we were interrupted the other night,” he said, stepping closer. “I was enjoying our conversation.”
Evelyne’s discomfort grew as his words slurred slightly. The scent of wine on his breath was unmistakable.
“I’m afraid I must get back to my sister,” she said lightly, attempting to move past him.
“Oh, come now,” he said, blocking her path. “Just a few words. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.” He looked down at her hands, clutching her coat. “I’ve been waiting to be alone with you.”
She offered a tight smile, trying to defuse the situation. “Perhaps another time.”
She tried to push past him, and his expression darkened. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist tightly.
“You’re quite the beauty, Lady Evelyne. But I don’t appreciate being made a fool of.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Evelyne tried to shake her wrist from his grip. “Let me go,” she demanded, panic rising as he dragged her into a shadowed alley.
He shoved her against the cold brick wall, his body pinning hers in place. “No one’s watching,” he murmured against her neck.
Bile filled her throat as he brushed his fingers against her cheek. She thrashed against him. His nearness made her skin crawl, and all she wanted was for him to move away.
“Let go, Ivan!” She threw her weight against him, desperate to escape, but instead of freedom, she felt him press in closer.
His repulsive lips grazed her neck, and he let out a groan of pleasure as his foul hands crept beneath her skirts.
She was shouting now. “Stop it! Get your hands off me!”
But the alley walls seemed to swallow her cries. Tears began blurring her vision as he started ripping at her undergarments and touching her. She knew all too well what he was intending, and no matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t break free from his unyielding grip. She was going to vomit.
“Stop it!” she tried to scream, her voice now a quiet rasp.
“Hold your tongue,” he said through clenched teeth, covering her mouth with a rough palm. “You would do well to show your future husband the deference he is due.”
Husband? She would sooner die than wed such a loathsome brute. The very notion of becoming his wife was so revolting it spurred her into action, and she sank her teeth into his hand with all the force she could muster.
He recoiled with a growl, then struck her hard across the cheek.
“A wife ought to know her place,” he hissed, seizing her more firmly as he lowered his mouth toward her chest.
Panic flared as his grip locked around her like iron, impossible to escape. And then, as the cruel truth of her helplessness took hold, a faint, broken whimper escaped her lips—a sound heavy with anguish and the beginning of surrender.
He was monstrous. Vile beyond words. A man devoid of decency, or even a shred of humanity. She shut her eyes tightly, steeling herself for the horror she could no longer prevent. But as despair threatened to swallow her whole, a furious voice broke through the darkness like a crack of thunder.
“Let her go!”
Both Evelyne and Ivan froze. Alaric stood at the mouth of the alley, his eyes dark and his posture radiating menace.
Lord Bavrick released Evelyne with a laugh, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Perhaps you should tell this lady to stop being such a tease. She—”
Alaric closed the distance in a flash, his fist colliding with Ivan’s jaw. The force sent Ivan staggering backward, nearly collapsing to the ground.
“If I ever see you lay a hand on another woman again,” Alaric growled, “I’ll kill you.”
Ivan mumbled a curse beneath his breath and stumbled out of the alley, one hand pressed to his face.
Though his hands were no longer on her, Evelyne remained frozen. She could only shrink deeper into the wall, her body trembling as she clutched her coat to her chest like a shield.
Alaric approached cautiously and extended a hand. “Evelyne?” he asked softly.
Unable to speak, she practically fell into his arms. His hold was steady, offering the reassurance she desperately needed. Without a word, he led her back to the carriage, his presence grounding her as she struggled to calm herself.
At the carriage, her sister was waiting. Aurelia’s usual brightness dimmed the moment she saw Evelyne’s tear-streaked face, her expression now marked by concern.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice sharp with worry.
Evelyne opened her mouth, but no sound came. She simply shook her head, unable to force the words past the knot in her throat.
“Evelyne,” Aurelia said again, more insistently this time, alarm creeping into her tone. But before she could press further, Alaric met her gaze with a look that said everything without speaking: not now.
To Evelyne’s surprise, Aurelia actually listened. She sat, lips pressed tight. The silence between them deepened, and Evelyne was grateful; words would have broken her.
As Alaric turned to go, Evelyne reached out with trembling fingers, grazing his sleeve. Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “Stay with me… please.”
He hesitated for only a moment before easing down beside her, wrapping her gently in his arms as the carriage rolled toward Duskwood Manor. She needed something—someone—to anchor her, and in that moment, only he offered even the faintest sense of safety. She clung to that, and to him.