redith.
Stepping out of my bedroom, I nearly walked straight into a broad chest.
My heart jumped a beat before settling when I realised it was Draven, also on his way downstairs.
"Good morning," I greeted quickly, before my courage slipped away.
He looked at — really looked, as though weighing my mood — then his gaze eased.
"Morning," he replied, his tone even, as if yesterday’s disagreent over that pregnant human woman had never happened.
I could almost see the tiny spark of surprise in his dark eyes.
Of course, he would be surprised; he must have thought I’d spend the morning sulking or giving him cold shoulders.
But truly, I had already fought that battle last night — between Valmora’s hard truths and my own tangled feelings.
And the truth was: Draven wasn’t wrong, even if I didn’t fully like it.
I chuckled inwardly at the look on his face, then fell into step behind him as we made our way down the stairs, the echo of our footsteps following us into the wide, polished corridor.
The morning air inside the house slled faintly of freshly baked bread and the lingering scent that always clung to Draven.
It felt oddly comforting after such a restless night.
When we stepped into the dining hall, Dennis, Jeffery, and Wanda were already there.
They rose to their feet as protocol demanded, the mont Draven and I entered, their heads dipping respectfully.
Draven acknowledged them with a curt nod — but didn’t imdiately tell anyone to sit.
For a brief second, confusion flickered across Dennis’s and Jeffery’s faces; even Wanda’s brows tightened.
I glanced up at Draven, waiting.
Then he spoke, voice calm but absolute, the way it always was when he passed new instructions.
"From today onward," he announced, "there will be a new arrangent at this table."
His gaze swept over them before returning briefly to , as if to reassure this wasn’t a sudden whim.
"My wife will sit directly at my right hand," he continued, his tone leaving no room for debate. "And Jeffery, as my Beta, will take the seat at my left."
My chest tightened.
Just a few words — yet they felt like a silent recognition.
A warmth blood low in my chest, pushing away the leftover shadows of the morning.
Dennis’s grin was instant, full of mischief and approval. And he looked like he was holding himself back form saying sothing.
Jeffery’s expression stayed neutral, but there was a quick dip of his chin, as if to acknowledge the change.
Wanda... her reaction was the loudest despite being silent. Her face tightened, then paled slightly, and her lips pressed into a line so thin it could cut.
Oh, Wanda.
I had stopped caring about her secret feelings for Draven. But her reaction was delicious to watch, a little prize I hadn’t asked for.
Obediently, Jeffery stepped away from the seat he usually occupied to Draven’s right, circling the table to take Xamira’s old place beside Wanda.
Wanda barely shifted, but the stiffness in her posture grew sharp enough to slice the air.
Then it was my turn.
I walked around and sat directly to Draven’s right, feeling the weight of the room shift around .
Dennis remained by the seat beside with that sa wide grin, eyes dancing with teasing amusent.
For a heartbeat, as I settled into the chair, I realised how natural it felt, as though this was where I was supposed to be.
Finally, Draven lowered himself into his chair at the head of the table.
He inclined his head slightly, giving the silent order. "Sit."
Everyone sat at once, the scrape of chairs montarily loud in the quiet hall.
Servants moved gracefully around us, laying out the first dishes and placing warm, damp towels by each of our plates.
I accepted mine, wiping my hands as I caught the aroma wafting up from the soup pot and platters: tender chicken stewed in a fragrant broth, golden rolls brushed with butter, and roasted vegetables spiced just the way I liked.
It slled wonderful. It was a good thing my stomach hadn’t growled.
I would have felt deeply embarrassed, especially after Draven’s new seating arrangent.
I set the towel aside, folded neatly.
Then, as I reached for my spoon, Draven’s hand moved first.
He ladled more steaming chicken soup into my bowl, then reached for a platter and set a perfectly roasted chicken thigh onto my plate.
My heart thumped harder than it should have.
"Thank you," I murmured softly, surprised by how small my voice sounded.
"Eat," he replied simply — but there was a softness there, only for .
I could feel Wanda’s eyes burning holes into my skin, but when I lifted my gaze and looked directly at her, her subtle glare t mine.
I held her stare, let my mouth curl into the tiniest smile, then looked away first, letting her stew in it.
I was having a good ti. Truly.
If this new seating arrangent wasn’t enough to make my morning, feeding off Wanda’s jealousy, anger, resentnt and hatred, completed everything.
Dennis leaned in a fraction and murmured under his breath so quietly only I could hear, "Looks like soone isn’t happy this morning."
I smothered a laugh and focused on my food.
"Do you think she is going to try to put you down like she usually does?" Dennis whispered again.
I shrugged. Then I stole a glance at Draven before whispering back to Dennis, "Let her try."
Though Draven noticed our movents, I wasn’t sure if he heard our whisperings because if he did, he didn’t show it.
Draven kept passing food — refilling my bowl, nudging a dish of spiced root vegetables closer, even tearing a roll in half and placing it by my plate.
Each small gesture felt like sothing more profound: a wordless reminder that despite his cold logic last night, I was still his, and he was still mine.
I ate, aware of the heat in my cheeks, the slight tremor in my hands that wasn’t from fear but sothing softer.
Every so often, Draven would catch my gaze. It felt romantic.
And beside , Dennis’s quiet teasing continued; across the table, Jeffery remained dignified and watchful while Wanda glared daggers sharp enough to pin to the wall.
She didn’t even care if anyone saw it.
She had truly gone mad now.
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