Page 103 of Wings of Shadow
She glides toward the bed, sets the tray gently on the low table beside me, and lifts the cover to reveal a spread fit for royalty—flaky croissants still warm from the oven, fresh strawberries glistening with dew, a small dish of whipped butter infused with honey and thyme. A porcelain cup steams with dark roast coffee, touched with vanilla.
My stomach tightens—not with hunger, but something else. The realization that I’m not merely a guest here anymore.
“Shall I draw a bath, Miss?” the maid offers.
“That would be lovely,” I reply.
She nods and leaves. I’m alone again—with countless questions building in my mind, but one rises above the rest.
Where is Kai?
I reach for the coffee. It warms my palms, and as I take the first sip, the bitterness cuts through the remnants of sleep and nerves. I stare out the window for a moment, watching the breeze toy with the gauzy curtains.
Then another knock—this one firmer, familiar in its precision.
I don’t need to ask who it is.
“Miss Draken,” comes Janik’s voice. Even muffled, it carries his usual clipped composure. He opens the door slightly. “Forgive the intrusion. Mr. Drachenstein has requested that I escort you to Draken Manor. He awaits us there.”
My pulse quickens. Draken Manor. Nikolaas.
I swallow hard and set the cup back on the tray. “I’ll be ready shortly,” I reply.
He gives a swift nod through the gap before closing the door. His silence says everything I need to hear—he’s giving me space. But the clock is ticking.
I slip out of bed, gathering the satin robe draped at the foot. The room is still scented with Kai—cedarwood, spice, and something distinctly his. It lingers on my skin as I cross to the bathroom, where a fresh bath waits, steam curling like whispers into the morning air.
I let myself sink into it slowly, the heat loosening every last knot of tension in my body. Beneath the surface, I touch the new truth in me—that I am not the same woman who stepped foot in this manor two nights ago.
Claimed. Chosen. Changed.
When I emerge, the chill air kisses my damp skin. I wrap myself in a towel and step back into the bedroom, where sunlight now fills the space. On the chaise, an array of clothing has been arranged with deliberate care—half a dozen ensembles, each more elegant than the last. Blouses of silk and lace. Trousers with sharp tailoring. A fitted coat of fine wool. Leather gloves. Scarves. Kai’s hand in every detail.
I run my fingers across the options, lingering on a blouse the color of bone, sheer at the sleeves with delicate lace at the cuffs. I pair it with black trousers that hug my waist perfectly, and a charcoal coat I remember him wearing once with dark gloves and a knife at his hip.
His world. My world now, too.
I knot a burgundy scarf loosely around my neck—his family’s color—and smooth my palms down the length of my coat.
In the mirror, I catch my reflection.
My hair, still damp, curls at the ends. My lips are fuller than usual. My skin glows faintly. But it’s the eyes that stop me. There’s a quiet stillness in them, the calm before impact. Not fear—resolve.
I don’t know what awaits me at Draken Manor. But I know who I am when I arrive.
Descending the stairs, I find Janik waiting by the door in his usual crisp black. He regards me with a brief, almost imperceptible smile.
“Morning, Miss Draken. I trust you slept well.”
I nod, offering a smirk in return. “I did.”
He opens the car door for me without another word. I slide into the passenger seat of a sleek black sedan, leather soft beneath my fingertips. Janik settles behind the wheel, and we pull away from the manor, slipping into the quiet streets of Paris.
It’s beautiful, this hour. The sky painted in hues of lilac and silver, the world still holding its breath.
After a long silence, Janik speaks—his voice softer than usual. “Miss Draken… If I may. I wished to say that your presence has brought something back to this house. To him. There’s a light in His Majesty I haven’t seen in many years.”
I turn to him, startled. Janik rarely mentions anything beyond logistics.
