Meredith.
After dinner, I walked back to my bedroom alone, the corridors quiet under the glow of sconces burning low against the stone walls.
My feet felt heavy, the ache in my muscles dull but persistent from the morning's combat training.
Yet it wasn't the training that troubled me most. It was Draven.
I closed the door behind me. Crossing the room, I sat on the edge of my bed. I let my shoulders fall, my gaze unfocused on the rug at my feet.
All day, I'd felt it: something different in him. Something I couldn't name.
"Valmora?" I called inwardly, my voice quiet but direct.
She answered almost immediately, her presence curling in the back of my mind like warm smoke. "Yes."
"I want to talk about Draven," I began, my voice a little unsteady despite trying to sound calm. "He barely looked me in the eyes all day. It felt… cold. Distant. Like there was a wall between us I couldn't cross."
Valmora stayed silent, so I kept going, words tumbling out.
