Chapter 6
The Moonshade pack, Kaldrek warned her, his voice calm and steady enough to ease the tension in her chest. Somewhere deep in her bones, Evelyne knew these wolves were not enemies.
Even so, she pressed lightly against the bond, reaching for more as he spoke with the two who led them.
His answer came as a velvet-soft brush across her mind.
Patience, love. No threat here.
The endearment caught her at once, quieting her need to press further. He might still be angry, but he loved her, and for now, that was enough. So she watched and admired her beautiful mate doing what he did best: leading and protecting those he loved.
As darkness deepened over the camp, Evelyne gave up on trying to draw Alaric into conversation.
She left him to his tent, since that seemed to be what he wanted, and she no longer had the strength to pick apart his distance yet again.
Though her wolf-sight sharpened with the falling night, the shadows still unsettled her.
Too many memories of bloodroot demons stalking the tunnels crept unwelcome through her mind.
Wanting firmer ground than her thoughts could offer, she turned instead toward Nathan and Reyna.
Ty’s loss still marked them both, written plainly in the hollows of their faces.
Evelyne visited when she could, not out of duty, but because she wanted to.
Ty had been good, and Nathan, even beneath his grief, remained much the same: kind, steady, accepting.
Reyna was another matter. She had lost her mate, and silence had settled over her like a second skin.
When she spoke, it was never to Cillian.
Evelyne understood why. Forgiveness was not the sort of thing that came gently after a wound like that.
Cillian had tried to apologize once, the words so raw they had nearly undone him, and he had kept his distance ever since.
He was prone to solitude anyway, though Evelyne still made a point of sitting with him at dawn and again each evening.
Tonight, however, she approached Nathan and Reyna, who sat beneath one of the heavy wooden poles bracing the camp.
Reyna rested cross-legged between Nathan’s outstretched legs, her fiery red hair spilling against his broad leather-clad chest. The air here was gentler than it had been in the mountains, though a cool breeze still moved through camp.
Nathan’s arms draped loosely over hers, his fingers tracing idle circles along her skin as he watched the wolves keeping guard around their alphas.
“Pardon me,” Evelyne said before she could stop herself. Old habits. The polished phrase slipped free before she remembered she was speaking to wolves, not court nobility.
Nathan smirked faintly but spared her the teasing. “Hello, Evelyne.”
Reyna turned her head just enough to glance at her, then shifted back without a word.
“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” Evelyne added, wincing a little. “My curiosity is gnawing at me, and frankly, I’d rather bother you two than let it chew through my skull.”
“Not an intrusion at all,” Nathan said, dipping his head with quiet respect. “The mate of my alpha is always welcome.” He patted the damp grass beside him.
Evelyne smiled and sank down, tugging her leathers into place.
“We were just enjoying the wind,” Nathan said, looking out over the camp and the rolling hills. “I’ve missed this.”
Reyna hummed softly, the sound more acknowledgment than agreement.
Evelyne decided to take it as a win—better than silence.
She remembered what Kaldrek had told her: losing a mate wasn’t just grief.
It was like losing a piece of your soul.
Even still bound to Nathan, Reyna’s wound would never truly heal.
“I understand,” Evelyne said gently. “There’s something comforting about the open air. It almost feels like home. I miss mine as well, though I am still far from it.”
Nathan’s expression grew solemn with sympathy. “I promise we will get you back. Our alpha has never broken his word. If he says Caltheris, then Caltheris it will be.”
The promise warmed her, though the thought of Noskari reaching anywhere near her family did not. Evelyne forced the fear down and swallowed.
“I trust him. And I’d love for you all to see Caltheris. You’ll fall in love with it.”
Nathan’s grin curved slyly. “I’m sure your family will absolutely adore meeting your new… furry entourage.”
Reyna snorted at that.
“Well, we’ll just have to do something about those fangs. Imagine the look on their faces when you pop them out.” Evelyne laughed.
The sound of quiet footsteps drew near, and Reyna sat upright at once, her eyes darkening as she turned. Cillian approached with his palms open, the posture almost surrendering.
“Cillian,” Evelyne said, startled. “Are you—”
“I’m fine,” he interrupted quickly. “I only came to see what the earlier commotion was about… and to find you. I did not mean to intrude. I can come back later.”
“You will sit with us.”
Reyna’s voice cracked like a whip. Evelyne had never heard that kind of steel in her before.
Surprise flashed across Cillian’s face, but he obeyed, lowering himself carefully beside his sister.
Only then did Reyna lean back into Nathan again, and his arms slipped around her as though returning to their rightful place.
“You are afraid to speak to us,” Reyna continued, her gaze locking on Cillian’s. “But you needn’t be. We will not harm you.”
Evelyne glanced at Nathan, and her breath caught at the way he looked at his mate. It was more than love. It was pride, the kind born of watching someone endure the unbearable and remain unbroken.
“A wolf who is bonded,” Reyna said softly, “is tied by a thread stronger than blood. Mind to body. Heart to soul. You feel their love, their desire, their fear, their joy. Their voice warms your chest, their scent lingers across miles. They are your purpose to live, to fight, to love. Ty was my mate.”
Her voice never faltered. Evelyne felt every word sink into her, because she knew that truth. She had felt it herself the moment her bond with Kaldrek snapped into place—an overwhelming flood of trust and belonging. She sent warmth down the bond to him now, letting him feel her love.
Reyna’s voice grew sharper. “And you killed him.”
Cillian’s hands tightened in his lap, but he did not flinch as Reyna pressed on.
“I felt every ounce of bravery, love, and fear in him as he fell. Not fear of death… but fear of leaving me. Of leaving Nathan.”
Cillian bowed his head in silence.
“But I do not hate you.” Reyna shook her head firmly. “We do not hate you.” She glanced at Nathan, who nodded once, then back to Cillian. “We hate her.”
The word hissed from her lips; Evelyne noticed she could not bring herself to speak Vaelora’s name.
Reyna leaned forward. “And you were the only one who could defeat her. For that, I am eternally grateful to both of you.”
She extended her hands. Evelyne took one without hesitation. Cillian paused, but then reached out. Reyna closed her fingers over theirs and squeezed, before releasing them and bowing her head.
Cillian’s face broke, a single tear sliding down his cheek. “Thank you,” he rasped.
“We are angry. But never at you,” Nathan added. “Understand this—we are healing. And we are thankful.”
The words struck something deep in Evelyne’s chest, leaving behind a dull ache that stung her eyes with tears. She looked at them then, at their strength, at the unshakable bond between them, and her heart swelled with admiration. They were more than friends, more than packmates. They were family.
After a few quiet heartbeats, Evelyne cleared her throat and broke the silence. “Who is the female standing beside Obren?” She tipped her head toward the group of pack leaders gathered in serious conversation while the others rested nearby.
“That’s Ravena,” Nathan answered. “Alpha of the Moonshade pack.”
Evelyne blinked. “A female alpha?”
In the south, in the human realm, men held every title and privilege.
They were lords of estates, heads of families, hunters, traders, soldiers.
Women were expected to be wives, mothers, ornaments of beauty, seated quietly in parlors and looking pretty while men governed the world.
But here, in Centaro, females stood as equals.
“Oh yes,” Nathan went on, warmth and respect threading his voice. “She’s the strongest of them all. Truly one of the finest leaders I’ve ever known.” He gestured to the man beside her. “And next to her is Coren, her mate.”
“Another powerhouse in their ranks. And not someone you’d want as an enemy,” Reyna added.
Nathan chuckled softly in agreement. “We haven’t seen them in some time, but the Moonshade and Ironwolf packs have always been close allies.”
Evelyne studied Ravena more closely. She was tall and commanding, with long black hair trailing nearly to her waist and eyes lit with sharp, fiery intelligence. But beneath that strength lay something softer, something maternal, almost gentle, like tenderness stitched quietly into command.
A female alpha. Evelyne’s heart stirred with sudden wonder. How extraordinary.
“She’s respected by every pack in Centaro?” Cillian asked, tilting his head toward where Obren stood with Thorne. “Obren’s hand is on her shoulder like they’re more than passing acquaintances.”
“Obren has his soft spots,” Nathan admitted. “He was once in love with her daughter. After her death, he and Ravena grew close.”
Evelyne’s brows lifted. Obren—the shameless flirt who seemed to tumble into bed with anyone who caught his eye—had been in love? She recalled his earlier hints about losing people on the journey north. Beneath the swagger and rivalry with Kaldrek, there was grief. There was kindness. And loss.
“What happened to her?” Evelyne asked quietly, though some part of her already guessed.
“Darkness,” Reyna said flatly.
And that was all Evelyne needed to hear.
A low, familiar voice slipped through her thoughts. The Moonshade pack was seeking allies when our paths crossed. They are friends… though there is much to discuss.
The deep timbre of Kaldrek’s voice moved through her like honey, easing something tight within her. Even anger could not strip the comfort from it. It reminded her, as nothing else could, that she was his. She could bear his temper, so long as that bond remained unbroken.
Kaldrek. She hesitated. I am sorry… for upsetting you, she whispered across the bond, letting her remorse thread through every word.
A few long seconds passed, enough to set her nerves on edge, before his answer came at last.
I am not so easily wounded, Evelyne. But I forgive you. Then, with the faintest edge of rebuke: And you need not be so nervous. I would never—
I know, she cut in gently, sending a quiet warmth back through the bond. It is not you I fear, Kaldrek. I know you would never hurt me. It was the thought of hurting you, of disappointing my mate, that unsettled me.
Silence held for a beat before his voice returned, softer this time. I love you. And I am sorry as well. I did not give you the chance to explain. I will try to master my frustration better.
A smile touched her lips as warmth spread through her chest. Well then, she replied, lightening her tone, it seems I have a few new friends to meet.