Chapter 45
“Do stop fidgeting with those,” Evelyne murmured under her breath, casting Kaldrek a sidelong glance as he continued to prod at the silver fork and spoon beside his plate.
“What?” he replied quietly. “They would make rather effective weapons in a pinch.”
Evelyne suppressed a smile, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Despite her composed posture, a nervous energy hummed beneath the surface. She could not quite place the cause of it, only that something about this evening felt… unusual.
What could possibly have compelled her mother to host a dinner requiring not only Kaldrek’s presence, but Holden and Heidara’s as well? And then there was Alaric and his parents, and even Alia, who had apparently been invited at Mrs. Stonebridge’s request.
It was all just… so very odd. And it left her trembling slightly in her chair.
She had asked Heidara to braid her hair in a delicate crown across her head that morning, with only the lightest touch of cosmetics to soften her features.
She had not dared arrive in leathers—not tonight.
There was no need to make a statement. Her mother already knew where she stood.
Instead, she had reluctantly accepted one of Aurelia’s gowns for the occasion.
A decision she immediately regretted the moment Seraphine caught sight of her.
“Goodness, my lady,” Seraphine had said, ushering her firmly toward the small mirror in the foyer. “Did you quite forget how to lace a corset? This is scarcely secured at all.”
Evelyne had barely managed a breath before the strings were tightened further.
“I thought,” she gasped, placing her hands on the wall for support, “that I had missed you. I must take that back at once.”
“I most certainly did not miss your sarcasm,” Seraphine replied briskly. “Now do hold still.”
“She is just as stubborn with me,” Kaldrek had added from where he leaned against the wall. “Quite defiant, in fact.”
“Ah, yes,” Seraphine agreed with a knowing smile. “That does sound like our Evelyne.”
Evelyne let out a huff. “Would you both kindly cease? I can scarcely breathe, and you are finding amusement in it.” She looked to Kaldrek. “And if my behavior is so disagreeable, perhaps you might seek out a more agreeable lady—one who is a bit more submissive.”
“Never,” Kaldrek replied with a grin. “I quite like that sharp tongue of yours.”
Seraphine did not miss the look that passed between them. She smiled faintly to herself before clearing her throat and excusing herself.
Evelyne pointed firmly at Kaldrek. “You had best behave yourself this evening.”
He leaned closer, his voice low. “Do I need to remind you that I am the alpha? You do not command me.”
She placed her hand against his chest, pushing him back just enough to meet his gaze. “The only time I will permit you to command me is in private. Now straighten yourself and mind your manners.”
His grin only widened.
“Tonight, then,” he murmured. “I shall be certain to remind you.”
The scrape of a chair across the polished floor pulled Evelyne from the memory, returning her to the present. She lifted her gaze just in time to see Holden awkwardly lowering himself into the seat beside Cillian.
Aurelia sat just to Evelyne’s right, watching him from across the table, perfectly arranged for the evening in a deep purple gown that flattered her complexion beautifully.
Her hair was pinned half up, jeweled earrings caught the candlelight whenever she moved, and the rich pink tint on her lips completed the look with effortless elegance.
Evelyne did not miss the way Holden’s attention kept drifting back to her, again and again, as though he could not help himself. Some things, it seemed, had not changed at all. Aurelia still had that rare ability to command attention without ever asking for it.
Their mother had yet to enter the room, and the air had already begun to thicken with anticipation. No one spoke much. Even the servants moved more carefully than usual, as though aware that something of importance was about to unfold.
Cillian seemed the least affected. He had never cared for social gatherings, but he accepted the duty calmly, as if all the role required was his presence. He sat quiet and collected, dressed just like their father.
Alaric was similarly dressed, though his posture held a touch more awareness, like he understood the weight of the evening in a different way.
Heidara, however, stood out in her own way.
She wore one of Aurelia’s deep navy dresses, with her hair woven into a crown-like braid.
Her golden waves fell freely down her back, softer than Evelyne had ever seen them.
There was no corset, of course. Heidara would have torn it off within moments.
Still, she looked beautiful. And surprisingly nervous.
She sat beside Alaric as he introduced her to his parents, her usual confidence slightly tempered. It was subtle, but Evelyne noticed the restless movement of her fingers in her lap and the small tightening of her posture.
Alia remained in her servant’s attire, her hair secured in a tight, neat bun. Yet even dressed so simply, there was something striking about her. Her attention lingered on Cillian with thoughtful calm, and his kept drifting back to her.
He had mentioned earlier that he intended to visit the Solwyn Grove in the morning and had asked Alia to guide him there.
Evelyne had promptly invited herself along.
There was too much she still needed to understand, and she wanted to see Charise Hallowell again—not only to thank the witch, but to warn her about what they had encountered beyond the southern lands.
More than that, Evelyne needed answers. About the covens. About the Duskwood bloodline. About what her ancestors might have known.
Across the table, Gaviel Stonebridge sat in reserved silence, offering polite smiles when needed, particularly to Heidara, though Evelyne could see the strain beneath them.
He had only just learned of Lord Duskwood’s death, and Aron had been his dearest friend.
To sit here now among that friend’s children, in their home, beside his widow, could not have been easy.
Evelyne could scarcely imagine the weight of it.
Did they all truly need to be here for this?
Mauri moved around the table, filling glasses with wine, just as the doors opened once more and Lady Celeste Duskwood entered. She wore black, her silver-laced hair pinned at the nape of her neck, her gown simple but unmistakably—
A widow’s dress.
The sight struck Evelyne harder than she expected, making the loss feel suddenly real—not only what they had lost, but what it meant for their family now, and for whatever future waited ahead.
Celeste offered a composed nod to those gathered, then took her seat at the head of the table.
At once, everyone seemed to straighten. Even without speaking, she commanded attention.
Evelyne had always noticed the effect her mother had on a room—the lifted shoulders, aligned backs, hands settling into laps or beside plates.
It was not fear, exactly, but something more instinctive: the need to meet her expectations.
Tonight was no different. Even Holden shifted slightly in his chair.
Kaldrek, however, did not move at all. Evelyne had expected as much. It was not defiance or disrespect; it would not occur to him to posture for anyone. He felt no need to impress, no pressure to conform.
It was simply who he was and precisely why she loved him.
“Thank you all for joining me this evening,” Celeste began. “I understand that each of you carries your own responsibilities and obligations.”
Her gaze shifted briefly to Evelyne.
“However,” she continued, lifting her glass after Mauri filled it, “this is not merely a dinner. It is a meeting, though I am certain you have all gathered as much.”
A silence followed.
“This is to be a discussion,” Celeste added, “regarding what comes next.” She took a small sip of wine before setting her glass aside. “As you are all aware, my husband, Lord Aron Duskwood, has passed. As such, Cillian will now assume his place as lord of this house.”
Evelyne and Aurelia both looked to their brother. Cillian sat steady, his expression calm. He had expected this, or perhaps he had already been told. Either way, he did not falter.
“As lady of the house,” Celeste continued, “it now falls to me to ensure that our family name remains both respected and prosperous. It is the only way to guarantee your safety… and the security of any future generations.”
Celeste lifted her hand before Evelyne could speak.
“I am not referring to marriage,” she said, her tone calm. “I am simply stating that, whether Cillian prefers it or not, he must now step fully into his role as lord. A responsibility he has been aware of since childhood.”
She looked to her daughters.
“As for you both, society has not yet been informed of your return. That will change shortly. Word of your father’s passing will spread, and with it, our family’s new standing.
We shall hold a memorial in his honor and formally announce Cillian’s place as head of this house.
” Celeste turned back to the table. “Cillian, you will be expected to appear in society next season. And now that you are one-and-twenty, it is time you begin considering your future lady of the house.”
One-and-twenty. The words struck Evelyne harder than anything else her mother had said. She had missed his birthday, one of the few days each year that had always belonged only to their family. She had always tried to make him feel special that day, and this year, she had forgotten.
Evelyne pressed a hand to her mouth and looked to Cillian, apology filling her eyes. He answered with a soft smile and a slight shake of his head, gently refusing her guilt.
Don’t, his look seemed to say.
But she could not help it.
Lady Celeste continued. “From what I understand, Mr. Stonebridge has ended his betrothal to my daughter.”