Draven.
Meredith's hand was still in mine when we stepped into the dining hall.
The air shifted the same way it always did when I entered a room—quiet reverence, unspoken tension. But I didn't release her, not until I pulled out the chair at my right for her.
She sat gracefully, and I let my hand brush her shoulder for a fleeting second before taking my place at the head.
"Sit," I ordered, my voice low but final. Chairs scraped, and then silence settled.
As soon as the servants served the food, I gave the order for everyone to start eating.
And immediately, the clatter of cutlery followed, steady and unremarkable.
There were no whispered barbs or sly glances tossed my wife's way. Not even Wanda dared to test me this morning. It was a bit strange, but I welcomed it.
