Draven.
The scrape of chairs and clatter of cutlery marked the end of breakfast. I stood only after redith did, watching her cross to Azul.
Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but my ears caught it.
"Bring the letter," she said.
My brows furrowed. A letter?
Azul bowed imdiately and slipped from the hall. I opened my mouth to speak, to try and draw redith’s attention before she too could leave. But to my unexpected surprise, she turned on her own accord and walked toward .
Then she leaned in close enough for her warm breath to fan my neck and whispered in my ear, "Can we speak privately? There is sothing we need to talk about."
For a heartbeat, I stilled. redith rarely took the lead to ask for serious conversations, at least, not directly.
That she would suddenly take the lead now surprised . And yet, it pleased because it was a sign she was making good progress.
"Sure," I said without hesitation, my voice quiet and steady. "We should go to my study." Then I rose to my feet and gestured toward the doors.
Since she asked with such gravity, I would not risk offending her by suggesting my chambers. No. A serious matter required a serious setting. My bedroom could wait for later, or less-weighty kind of conversation.
I led the way out, my stride even but brisk, and opened the door to my study when we arrived. I stepped aside, letting her enter first, then I closed the door firmly behind us.
The air seed heavier already.
Crossing the room, I moved toward the sitting area and gestured toward the two-seater sofa. "Sit."
She walked there without hesitation, her poise steady, and lowered herself into place with quiet elegance.
I drifted to the small bar by the shelves and reached for a bottle—thick, creamy liquid sloshed inside. I held it up toward her. "Care for a drink?"
Her eyes briefly flickered to it before moving back to my face "No," she said simply.
She thought it had alcohol, and she wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t know the taste was far sweeter than what she imagined.
"You will like it," I said evenly.
redith said nothing, her silence neither agreent nor refusal, but I chose to take it as consent.
The two glasses clinked gently as I set them down and poured halfway before carrying them to her side.
Refusing to sit apart, I lowered myself beside her on the sa sofa, making sure we were close enough that I could catch the faintest trace of her lavender and vanilla.
Next, I placed one glass carefully in her hand before lifting my own. Then I t her gaze directly.
"I noticed sothing is bothering you," I began, my tone steady but softer than usual. "Tell , has anyone offended you?"
I sipped from my glass, but I did not take my eyes from her. Her silence stretched until finally, she drew in a deep breath and exhaled.
When her eyes t mine, I saw it there—pain, restrained but sharp.
"You," she said, her voice quiet but cutting. "I feel offended by what you did to ."
Her words struck deeper than I cared to admit. But I leaned forward slightly, searching her face, trying to anchor her gaze with mine. "
Please, tell how I wronged you," I said gently. "Because I truly have no idea what I’ve done wrong to you."
Her lips parted as if she were about to speak when suddenly, a soft knock landed on the door.
I bit back my frustration. "Enter," I ordered with a clipped tone.
The door eased open, and Azul stepped inside, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Between her fingers, she carried a single folded paper.
The mont she crossed the threshold, my senses sharpened. redith’s fragrance clung strongly to the letter, unmistakably, as though the paper had rested close to her belongings for hours.
But beneath it, lighter, threading through faintly, was another scent. It was familiar. Bitterly familiar.
My eyes narrowed as one na echoed in my head. Wanda.
Azul approached quietly, lowered her head, and extended the letter to redith with practiced grace.
redith accepted it without a word, and Azul bowed before slipping back out, the door shutting with a muted click behind her.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to choke on. My gaze locked on the paper in redith’s hands, then rose to her face. Her expression was calm, but her eyes carried sothing darker.
Slowly, she drew in a breath and looked at fully.
"Draven," she said, her tone steady, deliberate. "I want to know your initial intentions for marrying . Why did you claim and force into a marriage with you back then?"
The question landed hard, stealing the air from the room. But I didn’t rush to answer because I couldn’t bring myself to.
Now, wasn’t the ti—the mont I had planned to co clean about this matter with redith.
My bond with her was stronger than ever now. I woke with her warmth clinging to every morning.
I wanted more of that, more ti with her laughter, her tenderness and her fire.
I wanted the chance to tell her in my own way, when I could show her how far I had co from that cold, strategic choice.
Not like this forced situation, festered by Wanda’s venom.
redith eyes searched mine, purple and sharp, demanding the truth. But my chest felt tight with the weight of everything unspoken.
And just then, Rhovan stirred, his voice edged with urgency. "Draven, the longer you wait, the more she thinks you never intended to tell her at all."
He was right. But that didn’t make it easier.
My fingers tightened around the glass in my hand, though I barely felt it. I thought back to those days the Elders circled around with their daughters.
Those monts had made choose redith out of strategy, to use her as a shield. That’s what she had been to at the start.
But that was not who she was to now.
I set my glass down slowly, eting redith’s gaze. Her calmness cut deeper than anger would have.
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