The only kindness she received came from Heidara, the young blonde woman who had stopped Holden from killing her. Heidara visited daily, gentle and calm, bringing her water, broth, meat, and bread.
Evelyne listened to the pack beyond her tent, absorbing every word as they spoke of hunting, protecting their women, and feeding their children. At least they looked after their own. But not humans. Not Reuben. They had slaughtered him and burned him. And their alpha—the one who looked at her like an annoyance, like she was beneath him—had ordered it without hesitation.
She had only spat at him, but wanted to do worse if given the chance.
At least Heidara had brought her a washbasin this morning, allowing her to scrub the filth from her skin and rinse the tangles from her hair. Evelyne had even asked, perhaps foolishly, if there were spare clothes she could wear.
Heidara nodded. “I’ll see what I can find for you… and your friend.”
The words bolstered her. They meant Alaric was alive. But was he suffering? Was he being tortured? She never received any answers.
Each day Evelyne remained confined within her makeshift prison. She passed the hours pacing in anxious circles, her every step accompanied by the dreadful symphony beyond the tent’s walls. The gruesome grind of shifting bones, followed by low, feral growls, served as a grim reminder of the beasts that roamed freely outside. But she hadn’t seen another wolf up close since Holden. Since that nightmare.
She’d wet herself that night, and Holden had known. That smirk he’d given her before picking up his clothes hadn’t just been arrogance—it had been satisfaction. He relished the fear he had instilled in her, the power he held over her. And she hated him almost as much as she hated their alpha.
Never again. She would get answers today. She would make Heidara talk. Or, if it came down to it, she would force the alpha himself to speak. She still didn’t know his name, and she didn’t care to ask.
The tent flap rustled as Heidara stepped inside, the early afternoon light highlighting the long, thick golden hair tightly plaited down her back. A few loose strands framed her sharp yet delicate features. She carried a folded bundle of clothes in her arms, the fabric frayed but clean, smelling faintly of firewood and something Evelyne couldn’t quite place; wild, like the forest itself.
“I brought you something to wear.” Heidara placed the bundle beside Evelyne’s cot, revealing a simple, long tunic of dark green linen cinched at the waist with a braided leather cord. The sleeves were fitted but flexible. Beneath it was a woolen skirt, charcoal gray, with slits at the sides. “I figured you’d want something more practical than that dress,” she added, nodding toward Evelyne’s tattered, travel-worn gown. “And cleaner.”
Evelyne stared at Heidara. She wore a fitted dark brown tunic with a sleeveless leather bodice layered over it. Her woolen skirt also split at the sides and fell just past her knees. Thick leather wraps wound around her forearms and calves, the latter tucked into hand-stitched, fur-lined boots that laced up to her knees. A bone pendant rested against her collarbone. She may have lacked the towering build of the men, but Heidara’s presence was no less commanding. There was a hardened grace to her, the kind shaped by survival.
She set strips of cloth and a small bowl of warm, herbal wax on the ground beside Evelyne’s cot.
“What’s that?” Evelyne asked, eyeing it with curiosity.
“Heated tree resin. It’s a type of wax—for your legs. If you wish.”
Heavens—the court ladies would be positively scandalized by her neglected legs.
Heidara continued, shrugging slightly. “Not all the women in our pack use it. Some prefer an obsidian blade; others don’t bother at all. But since I’m not allowed to give you a weapon… Well, I figured this was better than nothing.”
It was a simple yet thoughtful gesture, and Evelyne found herself softening toward her captor in a way she hadn’t expected. “Thank you,” she said.
“Get changed.” Heidara pushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “Kaldrek will be here soon. And if you plan to talk your way out of this, don’t. Just stay quiet around him. He’s the one who decides whether you and your friend get to leave.”
Kaldrek?
“Who is—”
But Heidara was already gone.
Evelyne dressed quickly. She ran her fingers through her tangled, now-dry hair, trying to smooth it down, but her mind was elsewhere.Who the hell was this man—this shifter, or whatever he was—coming to see her?
She didn’t have time to dwell on it. Instead, she focused on figuring out the damn skirt. The slits on the sides left more of her legs exposed than she was used to, and the unfamiliarity made her hesitate. But she had to admit the clothes were a vast improvement over the suffocating corset and heavy gown.
The tunic fit comfortably, allowing her to move without restriction, and the skirt, though unsettlingly revealing, felt light and was perfect for quick movement. The boots, however, were another matter entirely. The leather laces were frustrating, a tangled puzzle she fumbled through until she managed to tie them, probably incorrectly.
With a quiet sigh, Evelyne finally sat back on the cot, her hands resting on her lap, her heartbeat steadying. Now, all she could do was wait for Kaldrek and a chance to convince him to let her go.
She sat quietly for about fifteen minutes, struggling to keep her patience. But when she couldn’t sit still any longer, she got up and began pacing the tent again. Her fingers grazed her brother’s book, and she pulled it from her bag, flipping to a passage to read.
And so it is told, when the darkness rises unchecked, slithering into the heart of the land, the Lantern shall stir from its slumber. A beacon of light standing alone against the endless void. But light cannot solely banish the creeping shadow. To burn away the corruption, to unmake that which was forged in darkness, the Lantern must be bound—its flame entrusted to a soul strong enough to bear its fire, to wield its cleansing light.
Heavy footsteps neared the tent. Evelyne quickly snapped the book shut. Stuffing it back into her bag, she barely had time to react before the tent flap opened. And of course, it was him again—the alpha.
“You,” she said, her expression sour.
