Draven.
The scrape of chairs and clatter of cutlery marked the end of breakfast. I stood only after Meredith 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 immediately and slipped from the hall. I opened my mouth to speak, to try and draw Meredith's attention before she too could leave. But to my unexpected surprise, she turned on her own accord and walked toward me.
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 something we need to talk about."
For a heartbeat, I stilled. Meredith rarely took the lead to ask for serious conversations, at least, not directly.
That she would suddenly take the lead now surprised me. And yet, it pleased me because it was a sign she was making good progress.
