Chapter 416

[ 1,085 words ]

[Meredith ]

“So,” I said, tilting my head, “what should I wear for breakfast?”

“Whatever you want,” he said easily. “You don’t need to think too hard about it.”

I raised a brow, pretending to consider. “Even skimpy dresses can do?”

That caught his attention. His head turned, eyes narrowing faintly. “Since when do you have skimpy dresses?”

I gave a small shrug, biting back a smile. “Who knows? Maybe I’ve been hiding them.”

He exhaled through his nose, amused but unfooled. “You haven’t,” he said with a dry tone.

I looked away, feigning innocence and feeling an odd satisfaction at the way his gaze stayed on me a little longer than usual.

Then, he finally pointed toward a side door. “The dressing room is that way.”

I smiled softly, with an almost playful curve of my lips, and walked past him. “Thank you,” I murmured.

The adjoining dressing room was large enough to be its own chamber.

Light filtered through gauzy curtains, glinting off neat rows of wardrobes, shelves, and drawers. I stopped for a moment, taking it in.

Our things had already been arranged—my dresses and personal effects placed neatly on one side, his clothing and personal stuff on the other.

The symmetry of it struck me. Two halves, clearly defined, yet sharing one space.

I moved toward my shelf, fingers brushing over the polished handles before opening it. The familiar scent of vanilla, lavender oil, and pressed fabric rose to meet me.

My eyes drifted over the array of gowns until they caught on a simple white dress with batwing sleeves. It was elegant, comfortable, and nothing too formal.

Immediately, I pulled it out.

A few minutes later, I slipped it on and crossed to the vanity table.

The mirror reflected a version of me that still felt half-unfamiliar: cleaner, calmer, with just a trace of tiredness beneath the eyes.

I picked up a powder brush and dabbed it lightly across my face, then reached for a nude lipstick.

As I worked, a thought crossed my mind—practical, but persistent.

Would my maidservants still come in every morning, as they did before?

It was unlikely. Now that Draven and I shared a room, the servants would think twice before entering unannounced. They were loyal, but not foolish.

Still, it was strange to imagine starting each day alone again, though, I supposed, not truly alone.

My gaze drifted to my reflection. My hair was still half-damp, curling faintly at the ends. I sighed, scanning the vanity table until I noticed the small brass handles on the drawers.

The third one slid open with a soft click. Inside lay a hand dryer, carefully placed and wrapped with its cord. Relief warmed me.

Then, I found a socket by the vanity’s side and plugged it in. The machine hummed to life, its gentle heat filling the quiet room.

The rhythmic sound almost lulled me until I caught a flicker of movement in the mirror.

Draven stepped through the doorway, the faint mist of steam still clinging to him. A towel hung low around his waist, water tracing slow paths down his chest.

For a second, the sound of the dryer faltered as my hand hesitated midair.

Then, he stopped just inside the room, one brow arched in that effortless, knowing way of his.

“You look busy,” he said, voice calm, but with that undercurrent of amusement I had grown used to.

I turned slightly, giving him a look that was meant to be casual, though my pulse betrayed me with its quickened rhythm.

“Drying my hair. Obviously.”

He nodded once, his eyes still fixed on me. “Do you need help?”

“No, thank you,” I replied, forcing my tone to remain even as I resumed drying my hair.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he crossed to his side of the room, retrieving a shirt from one of the wardrobes.

I didn’t look away from the mirror, but I saw his reflection move behind me, steady and sure.

When my hair was dry enough, I switched off the hand dryer and coiled the cord neatly before placing it back in the drawer.

Next, I reached up to gather my hair, fingers combing through the loose strands. But the curls at the ends refused to stay smooth, slipping from my grasp every time I tried to twist them into a ponytail.

I sighed softly, trying again, and again. Then, without a word, Draven appeared behind me.

I met his reflection in the mirror—crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, paired with dark jeans that made him look effortlessly at ease.

The faint scent of oud and mint drifted to me, clean and sharp, settling like a quiet claim in the air around him.

“Here,” he murmured, reaching out.

Before I could protest, his fingers brushed lightly against mine, taking the ribbon from my hand.

His touch was sure and unhurried as he gathered my hair, smoothing it back with surprising precision.

I couldn’t help smiling, watching him through the mirror. “This is one of the moments you have me silently questioning how you learned to do stuff like this.”

He met my gaze briefly in the reflection, a faint smirk curving his lips. “You would be surprised what war teaches a man.”

“Ponytails?” I teased.

“Order,” he said simply, tying the ribbon with a neat twist.

His closeness warmed the air. I could feel his breath near my neck, steady and even, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to narrow to the quiet rhythm of his movements.

Then, without meaning to, a thought slipped out of me. “Will your father be joining us for breakfast?”

“No,” he said.

I let out a breath of relief. Then, he finished tying the ribbon and stepped back. “Done.”

I turned my head slightly, feeling the weight of the ponytail settle neatly down my back.

“Not bad,” I said, pretending to inspect his handiwork in the mirror.

“Not bad?” he repeated, a faint edge of mock offence in his tone.

“Almost perfect,” I corrected with a smile.

He shook his head, chuckling quietly, then slipped his hands into his pockets. “What do you want to do after breakfast?”

I glanced at him through the mirror again, this time without teasing. “Sleep,” I said simply. “For a week, if possible.”

His mouth curved in that quiet, approving smile that always made my chest feel lighter. “That sounds reasonable. Now, it’s time to head down for breakfast.”

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