Chapter 34
Evelyn
I was ready to leave.
The carriage waited at the edge of town, its wheels creaking under the weight of my luggage and the finality of my decision. I stood beside it, cloak drawn tightly around my shoulders, the morning chill cutting through my resolve like a knife. I had told myself again and again that this was the right choice. It would be a clean exit, a quiet departure. No goodbyes.
And yet, I couldn’t stop looking back.
Each familiar rooftop, every scent of pine and firewood, even the rutted road leading away from the village tugged at me like roots I hadn’t known were growing.
There was still so much I hadn’t said. So much I hadn’t done. And worse, so much I didn’t understand. Emma’s strange accusations, the rogue’s death I had heard about in whispers from the nurses in the medical wing, and the air of danger that never quite left.
The driver adjusted the reins. "Shall we, miss?"
I opened my mouth to say yes, but the words never came.
Because at that very moment, I heard someone shout my name.
“Evelyn!”
I turned quickly. I knew that voice.
Logan.
My stomach dropped to my feet. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
He sprinted down the road, his boots pounding the gravel, hair wind-tossed, and his eyes wild. There was a desperation in his voice that rooted me in place, even as my pulse spiked with confusion and a rising, awful hope.
He reached the carriage, breathless and flushed, and caught the door before I could close it. I didn’t want to admit it, but his disheveled hair and concerned expression made him look especially handsome. I turned back to the carriage, forcing the thought down.
“Don’t go,” he said hoarsely. “Please.”
I stared at him. His presence knocked all the breath out of me. “Logan… I have to. You know I do.”
“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “You’re running because you think you’re protecting everyone, but you don’t see it. We need you here. The medical wing, the soldiers, everyone.” His gaze nearly blazed a hole through me. “I need you here, Evelyn.”
I blinked, throat tightening. “I’ve caused nothing but trouble since I arrived. Your mother hates me. She’s wanted me gone from the start, don’t deny it. And Emma—”
“Emma lied.” His jaw tensed. “She’s not what she seems. There’s more to things with her, things that you don’t need to worry yourself with. And this war… It’s getting worse. We’ve lost two scouts in the last week. We’re short on healers. We’re short on everything.”
I looked down, my hand still clenched around the carriage door. “What do you want me to do, Logan? Stay and pretend everything’s fine? Wait around for another accusation?”
He stepped closer, his voice softer now. “Stay because you’re needed. Stay because there are people here who believe in you. Because I believe in you.”
I turned my face away, teeth digging into my lower lip. Gods above, it hurt. Every part of me wanted to stay, but I was terrified of what it might mean. Of what I might become. Of what I might lose.
But when I looked at him again, I saw no lies in his eyes. Just earnestness. Honesty. Hope.
“I’ll stay,” I whispered. “For now.”
Relief sagged through his shoulders. “Thank you.”
“But not for you,” I added. “I’ll help with the rogue attacks, yes. I’ll be useful. I can’t abandon people who might need me. But while I’m here, I’m going to find out what’s really going on. About Emma. About the rogues. About everything.”
Logan nodded once. “Then uncover the truth. I trust you to do just that.”
It took all of my strength to force down my prideful smile.
He stayed for a moment longer, as if unsure whether to say something else. His fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for me, but wasn’t quite able to. Or maybe he didn’t know if he still had the right.
“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I need you here, Evelyn. Not just because of your healing. Not just because of the war.”
I held his gaze. He was trying to tell me something, something layered and complicated, but now wasn’t the time. Not yet.
Instead, I stepped past him and walked back to the carriage, opening the side to pull my bags back down. The driver, smart man that he was, said nothing. He simply tipped his hat and guided the horses to the edge of the trees to wait.
Logan helped me lower the last trunk. Our fingers brushed for half a second, and something in me flinched, startled by the way my pulse responded. I wasn’t ready for what that meant either.
“You should return to the base,” I said quietly. “I’ll check in at the medical wing and set things in order. If I’m staying, I’ll need to reestablish my duties properly.”
He nodded. “I’ll make sure your room’s still yours. No one should have touched it.”
A pause hung between us, filled with things neither of us were brave enough to voice. Then he turned and walked back the way he’d come, his shoulders tense but a little lighter somehow.
And I stood in the middle of the road with the wind tugging at my cloak, watching him until he was out of sight.
I had stayed.
But something in me told me this wasn’t just about staying anymore.
It was about finally stepping into the fight.
And refusing to leave again until I knew the truth.
The next day passed in a blur of quiet questions and wordless watching. I returned to my quarters, unpacked my meager belongings, and dove headfirst into research.
Since the medical wing didn’t need me that evening, I decided to dedicate my night to it and headed to the library to lose myself in documents and texts.
The library was quiet during the afternoon hours, and the pack’s record keeper—an elderly man with stooped shoulders and a limping gait—barely looked up as I combed through old ledgers and outdated war accounts.
Emma’s name came up more often than I expected. Not in grand declarations, but in small, persistent mentions—border patrols near rogue territories, suspicious treaties, missing scouts replaced under her suggestion. Most notably, she had spent a six-month sabbatical years ago in the outer territories, near the northern fringe, where rogue activity was at its worst at the time.
Coincidence? Maybe.
But my gut told me otherwise.
As the hours ticked past, I grew increasingly uneasy. The edges of a story were there, if I could only put them together. But the pieces didn’t fit neatly. Not yet, at least.
I tucked the most promising records into a leather folder and slipped it under my cloak. Strange things were happening here. That much was clear.
I opened another folder in my large stack and bent over it. I knew that no matter how hard I tried, sleep would evade me that night; I was in it for the long haul. Unfortunately, I was too wired, too invested in getting answers about the woman who had positioned herself as my enemy.
