[Third Person].
Dinner ended in a strained quiet.
Chairs shifted against the marble floor. Servants moved in and out swiftly, clearing dishes with lowered heads.
Draven and Meredith did not speak until they reached their bedroom and the door shut firmly behind them.
Draven loosened the collar of his shirt and took a step toward the balcony, but Meredith's voice stopped him.
"Your father knows."
He paused mid-step and turned slowly. "Knows what?"
"That I have a wolf."
His brows drew together at once. "How?"
Meredith moved further into the room, her expression thoughtful rather than alarmed.
"I noticed he wasn't worried, not even a little, when mentioning the council's condition. He pushed you, yes, but he wasn't anxious," she revealed.
Draven remained silent, listening closely.
"At first, I thought he was plotting something worse," she continued. "So, I listened."
His eyes sharpened. "You read his thoughts?"
"I did."
"And?"
