Dravenor's head tilted slightly as he looked at her, before he returned to his business, as if only just realizing why she hadn't left yet.
Valérie remained by the door, hands clasped tightly before her, as Dravenor and his right-hand man continued their hushed conversation. Though their voices were subdued, fragments reached her ears—mentions of escalating situations and the pressing nature of timing
__
The man in dark leathers, cast a sharp glance her way before exhaling and turning back to Dravenor.
"I still don't understand why you let her see that," Orien murmured.
"She can read it," Dravenor replied, his gaze lingering on Valérie. "That alone makes her valuable."
"Valuable or dangerous?" The man's tone held a note of caution.
Dravenor's expression remained inscrutable, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor. "She stays."
He studied him for a long moment before finally inclining his head. "As you wish."
Without another word, the man departed, the heavy door clicking shut behind him
A thick silence settled in the chamber. Valérie stood straight, awaiting further instructions, though her heart pounded in her chest.
Dravenor leaned back slightly, fingers drumming against the desk. "When did you first discover you could read these languages?"
She swallowed hard. "For as long as I can remember."
His piercing gaze held hers, assessing, weighing. After a moment, he stood. "Very well."
Expecting more questions, she was surprised when he simply ordered, "Prepare my bath."
Valérie bowed her head and hurried toward the expansive bathroom. In the corner stood a large drum of stored water; she needed only to transfer it into the ceramic tub a few feet away. She knew vampires preferred unheated water, so the task was straightforward
__
Valérie worked quickly, her arms aching as she hauled the water from the large drum into the ceramic tub. The weight of the fetching bowl grew heavier with each trip, but she forced herself to focus. Anything to keep her mind steady, to ignore the quiet tension in the chamber behind her.
Finally, the tub was full. She exhaled, shaking out her wrists. A few spills dotted the floor, and the hem of her gown clung to her ankles, damp from the splashes. But it was done. She stepped back, smoothing her sleeves just as the sound of footsteps reached her ears.
Dravenor entered.
She stiffened instinctively, keeping her posture straight as he approached. His loose robe hung around him in dark folds, his presence filling the space effortlessly. He didn't glance at her as he walked past, but she could feel it—the quiet weight of him, the command he carried without a word.
Then, without hesitation, he reached for the knot of his robe.
Her breath caught.
Wasn't he going to dismiss her?
Surely, he wouldn't—
But before she could even think to turn away, the robe loosened.
Valérie's gaze dropped slightly. The fabric slid from his shoulders, revealing taut muscle and smooth, pale skin. Her stomach twisted, heat rushing unbidden to her face. She snapped her eyes up, only to catch a glimpse of the sharp line of his back, the way his muscles flexed as he moved.
Oh.
The air felt heavier, pressing against her skin.
This was wrong...why was she still here?
Her fingers curled at her sides, but she didn't dare move. Her thoughts spiraled. Should she speak? Look away? Was it worse if she tried to sneak a glance or if she stood there like a statue?
The robe slipped lower.
She swallowed hard, heat blooming up her neck.
Gods, she needed to leave.
She shut her eyes tight as he fully took off the robe, opening it at the sound of him engulfed by the water —sinking into the foamy depths. The tension in her body coiled tighter at the subtle ripple of muscle, the way the water lapped at his skin. Her mind supplied a thousand details she did not need.
Then, finally—
"Dismissed."
The word cut through the thick silence like a blade.
She didn't wait.
With a sharp nod, she turned swiftly, heart hammering as she fled the room.
As the door shut behind her, she pressed her palm against the cool wood, eyes wide.
What was that?
Her pulse thrummed wildly, and she could still feel the heat clinging to her skin. She inhaled deeply, willing her face to cool, her mind to settle.
And yet—
She could swear, just before she left, that she had seen it.
The faintest curve of his lips, perhaps it was her imagination...she couldn't imagine his stoic face smiling at all
____
Valérie hurried down the dimly lit corridor, her heartbeat still unsettled. The cool air did little to soothe the warmth lingering on her skin, and she forced herself to breathe evenly. It was nothing. Just a task.
As she rounded a corner, a figure stepped into her path.
She halted abruptly.
The man who had been with Dravenor
Up close, he looked younger than she expected—perhaps only a few years older -- physically of course, considering he was a vampire..he was probably a century old already... the sharpness in his gaze and the quiet strength in his stance hinted at someone well-acquainted with war. His dark leathers hugged his frame, his posture relaxed yet alert, like a man who never truly let his guard down.
His eyes flicked over her, lingering just long enough to take in the flush still on her cheeks, the slight dampness of her sleeves.
One corner of his mouth lifted, He gave her a knowing look
"Orien," he said simply. She blinked
"Valérie," she said softly, tilting her head slightly
He nodded, still watching her, and in that gaze was something unreadable. Not judgment. Not mockery. Just... something else.
"If you're looking for the kitchen hall," he said, stepping aside, "it's down the next corridor. On the left."
"Yes. Thank you."
He passed her with ease, the scent of leather and steel brushing past her like a whisper. She stood still for a beat longer than necessary
Then she turned left, heading toward the kitchen.
Inside, she immediately spotted the maid assigned to kitchen duty because of her arrival—Ena.
The girl was by the countertop, chopping herbs with a little too much force. She looked up, her eyes locking on Valérie, and the expression she wore was anything but welcoming