Chapter 8 - The Threshold of Dawn
The war was over almost as quickly as it had begun.
Without Grand Duke Nicholas to command them, the remaining Romanov forces surrendered within hours, laying down their weapons in the freezing snow as the northern coalition secured the citadel.
Three days later, back inside the royal war wagon parked within the captured courtyard, the heavy atmosphere of trauma and fear had begun to lift, replaced by the quiet, fragile warmth of healing.
Evangeline sat by the carriage window, watching the morning sun break through the heavy winter clouds over the Russian taiga. The golden light caught the silver strands of her hair—hair she had brushed herself that morning using her old silver comb.
The haunting shadows beneath her eyes had begun to fade, replaced by a soft, natural color. Though fragments of the past five years still lingered like quiet ghosts in the back of her mind, the thick, suffocating fog of the Romanov conditioning had finally shattered, burned away by the relentless devotion of her mate.
The door opened softly, and Cedric stepped inside. He was dressed in clean royal attire, though a white linen bandage was still neatly wrapped around his right palm where the silver dagger had burned him.
He sat down beside her on the velvet bench, his golden eyes—now settled back into their natural, warm hazel—filled with a quiet, abiding tenderness.
"How are you feeling, Evie?" he asked softly, reaching out to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Evangeline turned her head and looked at him. For the first time in five years, her gaze was clear, steady, and filled with a profound, overwhelming depth of love. She reached up, placing her hand gently over the white bandage on his palm.
"I remember the color of the bedsheets in Dunstanburg," she whispered, a soft, genuine smile touching her lips for the first time. "I remember the sound of the rain against the stone battlements. And... I remember you."
Cedric’s breath caught in his throat. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck as a heavy, long-overdue wave of peace finally settled deep into his weary soul.
May you like
"We are going home," Cedric whispered against her skin.
"Yes," Evangeline replied, closing her eyes as the carriage wheels slowly began to turn toward the west, carrying them away from the snow and back toward the light. "Let's go home."
