I nodded slowly. The guava was actually really sweet.
As I ate, I asked, “How long have you both worked for the Oatrun family?”
Kira responded, “Since we were teenagers.”
I hummed, filing away the information. Then, the air in the room shifted.
The door opened, and Madame Beatrice stepped inside. Immediately, Deidra and Kira fell silent and moved away from me, as if afraid to be caught too close.
Behind Madame Beatrice stood the doctor. It seemed he was very dedicated to healing my scar.
“It’s time to tend to your injury,” Madame Beatrice announced.
I swallowed my sigh and stood, moving to the vanity area. The doctor greeted me politely, then opened his bag, retrieving supplies.
“This may sting a little,” he warned as he pressed an ethanol-soaked cotton pad against my wound.
The burn was sharp, but I remained still. I was used to enduring this level of pain.
He examined the cut. “Thankfully, your wound hasn’t been infected.”
Next, he dipped his fingers into a small container and spread a cooling balm across my cheek. The sensation was soothing, but all I could think about was wiping it off the moment he was gone.
When he was done, he sealed the container and turned to Madame Beatrice.
“She needs to apply this twice daily.”
Madame Beatrice reached for it, but I snatched it from his hand. “I will do it myself.”
No one objected, but I felt Madame Beatrice’s gaze linger on me.
As soon as the doctor left, I excused myself to the bathroom.
Inside, I bolted the door, stood before the mirror, and lifted the hem of my dress. I swiped the fabric across my left cheek, rubbing the balm away.
Two minutes later, I emerged, only to find the other maidservants back, with a tailor and a collection of new dresses.
One by one, I tried them on, enduring thirty tiring minutes of adjustments and scrutiny. By the time it ended, the sky outside had begun to darken. Then Madame Beatrice announced it was time for a bath.
Deidra and Kira led me to the bathroom, but when I stepped inside, I froze.
The bathtub was filled with milky water. The scent of lavender, rose oil, and vanilla hung in the air. A luxurious bath.
I stepped forward, inhaling the sweet fragrance. It was too much-too prepared. Like an offering on an altar.
Something wasn’t right.
After bathing, I was dressed in one of my new gowns instead of a nightdress. I frowned. “Why?”
“The Matron’s orders,” Kira said simply.
A strange unease settled in my stomach.
When I stepped back into the room, I saw a food trolley being unloaded onto the dining table-several sumptuous dishes, a bottle of wine, two glasses.
Two.
I narrowed my eyes. Then I turned toward Madame Beatrice. She stood near Azul, giving her instructions on what to pack for the trip tomorrow.
“What is happening tonight?” I asked, trying to ignore the rapid beating of my heart.
She clasped her fingers together, her gaze sharp. Then she smiled-a smile that wasn’t a smile. “The Alpha is coming for dinner.”
I stiffened. Then the question left my mouth before I could think. “Why?”
Madame Beatrice’s eyes bore into mine, a silent warning in their depths. Then, without breaking her gaze, she gave the next order.
“Deidra. Kira. Apply the healing balm again and touch up her face with powder. The Alpha is on his way.”
I clenched my jaw.
My stomach twisted. Draven was coming. For dinner. And I had no idea who had invited him-or why. But one thing was certain. Nothing good ever came from being in a room with him.
Meredith.
I hated that I had to be standing when Draven casually strolled into my room like he owned the floor beneath his feet. And of course, he did.
His shoulder-length black hair looked freshly washed, glistening faintly under the chandelier’s amber glow. Shampooed.
I didn’t know why that annoyed me, but it did. Long hair on men always seemed impractical to me. All that swaying and brushing past shoulders-it irritated me.
Madame Beatrice and the rest of the servants bowed as he entered, each movement crisp and precise, just like they were trained.
Draven’s Beta, Jeffery, stood just behind him, head dipped in acknowledgment but still sharp-eyed, alert.
I remained still. I had no intention of bowing or curtseying to him. Not tonight.
But then Madame Beatrice’s subtle gaze found me. That cold, expectant look. I felt the pressure of it like an invisible hand on my back. Reluctantly, I dipped into a brief curtsey. I said nothing, though. I could feel Draven’s gaze resting on me, heavy as stone.
When I lifted my head, he was still staring-his expression unreadable, eyes like glass. Silent. Watching.
Then, without a word, he looked away and moved past me.
But then, a scoff slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and he stopped in his steps.
My breath hitched. Draven turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing, his posture shifting-not aggressive, but suddenly sharper. My heartbeat jumped painfully. I dropped my gaze immediately, thinking of how foolish my actions had been.
I had underestimated how sharp his senses were. Werewolves with wolves had hearing far beyond mine. I should’ve remembered that. I cursed myself inwardly. No wolf, no instincts.
It was moments like this that reminded me how inferior I was.
Thankfully, Draven didn’t pursue my disrespectful actions. He continued forward, toward the dining table.
I waited until I heard the creak of a chair before I dared lift my head. He was seated now, his Beta having pulled the chair at the head of the table for him. Draven sat like a king surveying his temporary court.
Madame Beatrice motioned for me to join them. I hesitated, then forced my feet to move. As I reached the table, Jeffery-ever the perfect Beta-pulled out the seat to Draven’s right.
I had wanted to sit across from him, as far from his presence as possible. But now, I was beside him.
I clenched my teeth and sat down. Then I reached for the napkin and spread it neatly across my thighs.
“Thank you,” Draven said to Madame Beatrice, giving her a glance. “That will be all.”
The servants began to leave. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or unsettled. I didn’t enjoy eating under Beatrice’s watchful eye, but being alone with Draven was worse.
Except, apparently, we weren’t completely alone.
“You,” Draven said, his voice directed at someone behind me. “Stay back.”
I turned slightly and saw his gaze land on Azul.
My brows pulled together. Of all the servants, he let her stay?
Madame Beatrice left without protest, taking Deidra, Kira, and the rest with her. Azul remained, quiet as a shadow, standing off to the side.
Jeffery didn’t leave either. Of course not. He stood with a poised stillness beside the wine bottle, waiting.
“How are you finding the guest quarters?” Draven asked suddenly, turning toward me.
I stiffened. Here it was-his opening move. A casual question that would lead to something else.
“Fine,” I said. “Very comfortable. I enjoy being away from noise… and unwanted company.”
He tilted his head and nodded slowly, as if taking the words at face value. But then he asked, “You don’t like other people’s company. What are you hiding?”
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