[Third Person].
In her own chambers, Meredith had already dismissed her formal gowns.
She stood before a wide mirror, fastening the strap of fitted leather trousers. A simple dark shirt followed, sleeves rolled slightly to allow freedom of movement.
For tomorrow's mission, there would be no royal embroidery, silks or crown. She did not want to look like a Queen.
She wanted to move like a warrior because deep in her bones, something felt wrong, even stronger than the unease at the Hunt and her nightmare.
She could tell that tomorrow would not be ordinary.
Meredith adjusted the leather belt at her waist and paused, staring at her reflection while preparing her mind for tomorrow.
The truth about her decision last evening was simple. She was fearful for Draven, though she hadn't told him that yesterday.
