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CHAPTER 484
~Draven's POV~
The next morning came not with fanfare, but with the soft roll of fog curling over the mountains.
Dawn light filtered through the heavy curtains in streaks of pale gold. My estate was already stirring—footsteps in the halls, faint voices in the distance, and servants moving with quiet urgency.
I arrived in the dining wing early, but Snow was even earlier still.
He sat at the end of the long table, sipping a black coffee that steamed gently in the cool morning air.
His coat was draped over the back of his chair, and his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, exposing the runes etched faintly into his skin—remnants of oaths, bloodlines, and wars past.
"Morning," I greeted.
"Draven. Morning.'
Two words. No pleasantries. Straight to it. I appreciated that.
I sat across from him as a server entered silently and placed a platter of warm bread, roasted meats, and boiled eggs between us. A bowl of fruit followed.
