Chapter 44
They moved fast.
Time blurred as Alaric sat strapped into the wooden sled, Evelyne beside him, pulled by the pack in their relentless push forward.
At first, it had been embarrassing to be hauled like baggage, but after the attack, after watching those things emerge from the walls, he didn’t care.
He just wanted to get the hell out of that tunnel.
The cold bit into him more fiercely now, despite summer having begun.
Trapped underground, he had lost all sense of time.
He never knew how suffocating it would feel, how soul-draining it was to be swallowed by endless dark, entombed in an abandoned trade route infested with creatures born of blood magic. Creatures that wanted to kill them.
Or worse, consume them.
He wondered what awaited them at the end of the tunnel.
Were they marching toward their deaths? Toward an army of Noskari?
What if Cillian wasn’t even alive anymore?
The thought made his stomach twist. Evelyne had already lost her father, and if she lost her brother too…
he wasn’t sure how she’d survive it. Yet she pressed on and never complained.
He had never imagined a lady of Caltheris could withstand the wild, let alone go without silk dresses, painted lips, and warm baths. But Evelyne was still here, still fighting, still pushing through. And he found himself drawing strength from her.
Why hadn’t he turned back yet?
He’d wanted to. So many times. But he couldn’t.
Not after what he’d seen. Not after watching Lord Duskwood—the closest friend his father had ever had—murdered in cold blood.
That alone should have been enough reason to stay and fight, but deep down, he knew the truth.
He stayed for Evelyne, even if they weren’t, and would likely never be, lovers. She was his friend.
But there was another reason, too, one he had been trying to ignore since she first looked his way.
Heidara.
Alaric caught himself watching her every time she walked by. She wasn’t soft or reserved like the noblewomen he’d grown up around. She was fierce, a storm wrapped in grace and grit. And every time her green eyes met his, it stole the breath right out of his chest.
The night he left in a surge of anger after Evelyne struck him, it was Heidara who found him. He hadn’t wanted company or conversation, but she didn’t press him. She sat beside him silently in the dim light of the torches, tipped her head back, and breathed a long, steady sigh.
“When I was sixteen,” she finally said, her voice quiet, “I fell for a wolf from another pack.”
Alaric frowned but said nothing, just listened.
“He had just turned eighteen,” she continued, “and he was… perfect. Strong. Dark-haired. Probably would have become an alpha one day. He made my heart race just by looking at me.” She smiled at the memory, but it was tinged with something sad.
“But two days after I spent a night with him…” She paused, eyes dropping to the ground.
“He said he’d found his mate and that our…
relationship was over. It’s rare for a wolf to meet their mate that soon, but he didn’t give me the chance to question it. He just left.”
Alaric inhaled sharply. “Just like that?”
She nodded. “I had hoped, prayed, that I would feel the bond with him when I came of age, but there wasn’t even a chance for that. Not when I was still only sixteen and he was already mated.” She exhaled. “A year later, his entire pack disappeared. Gone. No one knows what happened to them.”
Alaric watched her carefully. “That’s when you moved on?”
Heidara turned to face him, studying him before finally smiling softly. “It’s never easy to let go of someone you once loved. But it’s the only way you can truly live. And I like to think that one day, I’ll find my mate and finally feel whole.”
Then it clicked. She wasn’t just sharing a memory; she was letting him see her pain so he could make sense of his own.
Because Alaric had loved Evelyne once. Or something very close to it. And watching her with Kaldrek had torn something open inside him. He’d felt responsible for protecting her for so long, especially after everything she’d endured. But Kaldrek… Kaldrek could protect her in ways Alaric never could.
That truth hit him hard, and in that moment, the anger he’d held on to for days dissolved, replaced by something he hadn’t anticipated: peace.
He had been wrong. The noble titles, the rules of courtship, and the hierarchy meant nothing now. These people weren’t beneath him. They were warriors. They were family.
He exhaled, his voice quiet as he said, “I’m sorry if I offended you.”
Heidara’s expression softened as she tilted her head. “We come from different worlds, Alaric. I understand that. But in mine, women aren’t seen as lesser for choosing to love someone. We’re equals. And while I know you meant no harm, Evelyne deserves to hear your apology directly.”
A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”
She grinned. “That’s a start.”
And gods, that smile. It did something to him; stirred something profound and unruly he hadn’t expected.
He swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
His gaze dropped to her fingers, lightly tracing idle circles in the dirt. “For being here. For me.”
She paused, then reached over, her hand brushing his. “Anytime.”
That was when the thought crept in.
He wasn’t just grateful for her presence. He wanted her.
The way her touch lingered. The way his body reacted to something as simple as her fingertips grazing his skin. He tried to shake it, to shove it down, but the warmth that flooded his chest and burned low in his abdomen betrayed him.
Alaric shot to his feet, clearing his throat as he shoved the thought away. What the hell was she doing to him?
Heidara raised an amused brow, clearly noticing the change in him. She stood. “We should get some sleep,” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder as she turned to walk away.
Alaric didn’t respond, couldn’t. He watched the sway of her hips, the way her leather clung to every curve, and desire clawed at him.
Fuck.
***
According to the map, they were now only days away from reaching the end of the route, which would lead them just past the northern mountain range and into the frozen lands of Nerathar—Vaelora’s domain.
They were likely deep beneath the mountains, the temperature dropping fast, the cold seeping into their bones.
The metallic scent that once came and went now hung heavy in the air, a sign they weren’t alone.
When they stopped to rest, the pack would need to be ready.
Another attack felt inevitable, especially if those grotesque bloodroot golems lurked in the shadows.
Alaric never wanted to see one again, but there was no escaping them while in the tunnel.
Fortunately, they’d only had one other encounter since the tunnel collapse.
They had passed a narrow fissure in the wall, likely caused by the crushing pressure of the mountain above, when one of the dark, bat-like creatures had clawed its way out, all fangs and death and bloodroot rot, but Kaldrek had brought it down in a single ruthless strike.
He kept the scouts on high alert, never letting anyone stray too far in case the tunnels collapsed again. Especially Evelyne. Though Kaldrek respected her strength and let her hold her own in battle, he was fiercely protective of her. And for that, Alaric couldn’t fault him.
So they moved. Traveled, ate, slept, kept going, and never stopped for long, always wary of the shadows watching them from the walls.
***
The tunnel’s exit loomed ahead like a gaping maw opening into the frigid night. A blast of icy wind swept through, carrying the scent of snow and something darker. Evelyne shivered, but not from the cold.
They had finally reached the brutal northern lands of Nerathar.
As they stepped out of the tunnel, the landscape stretched before them, while the jagged peaks of the northern mountains rose behind, their snow-laden slopes plunging into an expanse of dense, skeletal forest. The land was eerily silent, and the sky overhead was a deep, inky black.
One of the elders had mentioned it was a full moon tonight, but no one in the pack would be celebrating, especially with the looming threat of blood magic creatures possibly stalking the shadows.
Tonight’s moon wasn’t just full. It was a blood moon.
Holden had suggested waiting until morning to explore the land ahead, but they couldn’t afford to waste another minute.
Every second Cillian remained under Vaelora’s control brought him closer to becoming something unrecognizable.
Maybe he already was, but Evelyne refused to believe that.
She had to hold on to hope. Without it, none of this mattered.
Steeling herself, she pushed to the front of the pack, determined to hear the next steps.
Kaldrek’s eyes scanned the terrain ahead. “Holden, Ty, Obren, come with me,” he commanded. “We’re going to scout ahead.”
“No,” Evelyne interrupted, stepping forward, fists clenched. “You are not leaving me behind.”
Kaldrek turned to her. “Evelyne, we don’t know what’s out there. This isn’t a debate.”
“I don’t care,” she snapped. “I didn’t come all this way to be left behind like I’m helpless. My brother is out there.” She jabbed a finger toward the dark line of trees. “He’s the only reason I’m here. I have to find him. I’m going with you.”
Evelyne watched as Kaldrek let out a slow breath, jaw tight with frustration.
This wasn’t a battle he’d win. Not with everything she’d endured to get here, not when her entire purpose was finding Cillian.
She’d risked too much to be turned away now, and denying her would only drive a wedge between them.