Chapter 37
Evelyne stirred in the softest bed she’d felt in weeks.
For a blissful moment, she didn’t move. Eyes half-lidded, she let herself melt into the warmth of the mattress, breathing in the clean scent of fresh linens and listening to the faint hum of life drifting in from beyond the lodge.
She had missed this—the comfort of a real bed; the illusion of safety, not just from solid walls, but from the two wolf packs now standing guard over Cindermoor.
She exhaled and stretched beneath the covers, only to regret it instantly.
A dull throb bloomed behind her eyes, and memories from the night before came rushing back: Heidara laughing as she half dragged her back to their room, arms looped tightly around Evelyne’s shoulders, both of them stumbling and breathless.
Yeah. Kaldrek was right. She should not have drunk that much.
Still, at least she’d slept. Better than she had in weeks.
She blinked toward the empty bed beside hers, already made, the hint of soap hanging faintly in the room.
Heidara was long up, no doubt washed and ready.
Meanwhile, Evelyne had slept in. No training today.
A birthday gift from Kaldrek? She scoffed at the thought, but she wasn’t about to complain.
The sun outside was already bright and warm, promising another beautiful day.
For the first time in what felt like ages, Evelyne felt a flicker of excitement.
She and Heidara were going to explore the town with Alaric.
No trekking through the wilds, no sore muscles or grueling routines.
Just wandering the streets, sharing laughter, and maybe, if she was lucky, feeling a little bit normal again.
That thought alone was enough to get her moving.
She undressed and stepped toward the small copper tub in the corner.
A real bath. No icy streams or rushed washes at camp, but a proper soak with warm water and soap that carried the soft scents of vanilla and lavender.
Sinking into the tub, she exhaled sharply, letting the heat soothe the remnants of last night’s indulgence.
By the time she was finished, Heidara had returned, balancing a wooden tray in her arms. And on that tray—
Evelyne’s eyes widened.
“Tea!”
She nearly yanked it from Heidara’s hands, grinning as she curled her fingers around the warm cup.
“You act like I brought you gold,” Heidara laughed, setting down the rest of the tray.
“This is gold,” Evelyne murmured, inhaling the rich, spiced aroma, savoring the heat against her palms. “Gods, I missed this.”
“Well, then, consider it a birthday present.” Heidara plopped onto the bed beside her. “Now, drink while I do your hair.”
Evelyne obliged, sipping slowly while Heidara worked her fingers through her damp hair, twisting and braiding it with practiced ease.
Once she had finished, Evelyne slipped into a leather skirt with a high slit, a cropped vest, and sandals suited for the warm weather and the moon ritual that awaited them later.
She paused at the small, fogged mirror near the washbasin, catching her reflection.
She looked different. Sun-kissed and sharper.
Stronger. Like someone who had endured and lived through things most couldn’t imagine.
Cindermoor’s streets buzzed with life, filled with the calls of vendors, the murmur of conversation, the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith’s hammer; the scent of fresh bread, spiced cider, and hints of lavender and sage from nearby apothecaries.
The town struck a balance between rugged and refined, shaped by trade and quiet resilience.
Tanners, tailors, herbalists, scribes, and leatherworkers lined the streets, along with traders from across the eastern lands.
And Heidara was determined to see it all.
Evelyne was dragged from shop to shop and led through winding streets as Heidara eagerly pointed out the best bakeries, the finest silk vendors, and the liveliest market stalls.
To her surprise, Evelyne didn’t mind. She had expected to feel out of place, like a foreigner in a town built for wolves.
But instead, she found herself drawn in.
She ran her fingers over delicate perfume bottles, admired a silver hairpin shaped like a crescent moon, and smirked as Heidara haggled with a fruit vendor like her life depended on it. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt like… normalcy.
As Evelyne set down a wooden pendant etched with swirling runes, Alaric suddenly stepped in front of her, something held gently in his hand. A flower. Its petals were pale blue, delicate yet resilient, catching the sunlight in a way that almost made it glow.
Evelyne blinked. “What’s this?”
“A birthday gift,” he said with a shrug.
She paused, then took the flower, rolling the stem between her fingers. “Thank you, Alaric.”
“Careful. You’re not about to get all sentimental on me, are you?” he said with a smirk, watching as she brought it to her nose and breathed in its soft, fresh scent.
She gave a low chuckle, but beneath it, something warm settled in her chest. Despite everything, they still had this—this friendship. And for that, she was grateful.
They followed Heidara’s lead for two hours, ducking into shops filled with delicate fabrics, passing outdoor cafes where townsfolk sipped tea, and weaving through the market stalls whose vendors welcomed them as though they belonged. But eventually, Heidara pulled up short.
“I need to check in with someone,” she said, flashing an apologetic smile. “I’ll catch up with you both later, okay?”
And then it was just Evelyne and Alaric. At first, they walked in easy silence, the sounds of the town filling the space between them. But after a few quiet minutes, Alaric cleared his throat, and Evelyne knew precisely where this was headed.
“So,” he said, glancing her way, “our betrothal.”
Evelyne slowed a little, tilting her head. “Ah. That.”
“That,” he echoed.
She let out a breath, then met his eyes. “We should probably end it officially, shouldn’t we?”
Alaric nodded. “Yeah. I think we should.”
There was no sadness in her voice and no hesitation in his. It felt… right.
“I do want you to know something,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’m still here for you, Ev. I always will be. And I am truly sorry.”
Her smile was small but sincere. “I know. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”
They slipped into silence again for a moment until Alaric nudged her with a grin and lifted a brow.
“So… are you ever going to tell me what’s happening with you and Kaldrek?”
Evelyne tensed, her smile fading as a frown tugged at her lips. Honestly? She had no idea how to answer that.
“I…” she began, but the words slipped away as her eyes caught on something.
Tucked between two taller stone buildings was a shop with a faded sign, its windows framed by flickering lanterns and bundles of dried herbs.
It held a feeling of age, something timeless and quietly mysterious.
It reminded her faintly of Charise’s shop back in Velenshire, like a place that felt touched by something beyond the ordinary.
Evelyne was already moving toward it before Alaric could ask what had caught her attention.
Inside, the air was even warmer and carried the scent of cinnamon.
There was something about the space that felt strangely alive.
Like Relics and Refinements, it was cluttered, but in a way that felt intentional.
Charms of bone and glass hung from the wooden beams, gently swaying despite the still air.
At the center of the room sat a large circular table covered in scattered tarot cards, stones carved with runes, and an assortment of candles that had long since burned down to their wicks.
A low-burning flame flickered beneath a small iron cauldron, releasing wisps of scented smoke that curled toward the ceiling. It felt like a place of secrets.
Behind the worn wooden counter stood a woman, younger than Evelyne had expected. Her dark curls were loosely pinned back, a few wayward strands softly outlining her striking features. Her rich brown skin glowed softly in the dim light, and her deep brown eyes studied them with delight.
She smiled. “Welcome,” she said softly. “I wondered when you’d walk through my door.”
Evelyne stiffened. “You… expected us?”
The woman inclined her head slightly as though weighing her words. “I heard whispers of two humans traveling with the Ironwolf pack. So, in a way, I expected you.”
She stepped forward, her fingers lightly grazing the tabletop, moving a few scattered tarot cards aside as she studied Evelyne. For a brief moment, Evelyne had the strangest feeling that this woman could already see something about her that she did not yet know herself.
Without warning, the woman gasped.
Alaric’s hand went straight to the dagger at his belt. “What?”
The woman’s eyes flashed to Evelyne. “What do you have on you?”
Evelyne blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I can feel it.” Her expression changed, and her fingers twitched like she was reaching for something just out of sight. “You’re carrying something. Something that doesn’t want to be found.”
Evelyne glanced at Alaric, and he was the first to speak. “How… What are you?”
“A witch, of course. Did my shop not give it away?” She raised both eyebrows, seeming genuinely surprised they hadn’t figured it out.
“There are witches outside of Velenshire?” Evelyne asked, her voice edged with disbelief.
The woman laughed lightly. “Oh, dear. Witches exist all over these lands. We are not confined to one place.” She motioned around the shop with a small smile. “My name is Selene. I’m part of the Cinder Coven, one of the founding families of this town.” She nodded toward Evelyne’s bag. “Open it.”
Evelyne hesitated, then slowly unfastened the clasp and reached inside. Her fingers brushed something familiar, and she pulled it free. The book. The Lantern’s Keeper.