[Third Person].
"I've got her," Draven said again, firmer this time, as he adjusted Meredith against his chest as if afraid even the air might hurt her. "Clear the way."
They obeyed without question, stepping back as he carried their Mistress straight toward the bathing chamber.
Draven's jaw tightened as he shouldered the door open and moved inside. Steam still lingered faintly from earlier, but the room felt wrong—too quiet, too still for what had almost happened.
Without hesitation, but with careful, efficient movements, he lowered Meredith onto the edge of the pool just long enough to strip away her soaked dress.
The fabric clung stubbornly to her, heavy with river water, and his hands trembled only once as he peeled it from her shoulders and down her arms.
She didn't stir, and that terrified him more than the river ever had.
