Araya stared after her, frowning at the closed door. "She looked... uncomfortable."
Jaxon groaned and flopped back against the pillows, draping an arm over his eyes. “Don’t take it personally, Starling. Garrick’s servants are terrified of upsetting him—especially the younger ones.”
Araya bit the inside of her cheek. That hadn’t felt like fear ofGarrick. But this wasn’t her world—and it wasn’t her place to question it.
“Well—” she said, batting Jaxon’s hands away as he reached for her again. "We shouldn't keep your father waiting."
Jaxon let out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back into the pillows. “Fine.” His lips curled in a slow, lazy smirk. “But you owe me for this, Starling. And I always collect.”
Araya shook her head, her lips twitching despite herself. Jaxon’s charm was infuriatingly effective, no matter how hard she tried to resist.
"I’m sure you’ll remind me," she said dryly, sliding out of bed and reaching for the clothes the servant had left behind. She avoided his gaze, knowing the amused glint she’d find there would only make it harder to hide her smile.
“Count on it.” Jaxon sat up, his gaze heating her skin. “Now, if you could just dress a little slower?—”
Araya rolled her eyes, pulling the soft, simple dress over her head. Though plain, it was nicer than anything she'd ever owned before she met Jaxon. She laced up the bodice and tied the waist, sectioning her hair into three before realizing the tie to her braid was back at the Aetherium.
"Wear it down," Jaxon said, tugging on a tunic and pants from the dresser. "It's just us here, Starling. There's no one for you to hide from."
Araya hesitated, her fingers curling around a loose strand of hair as she glanced toward the door. Jaxon adored her hair—but she still didn’t feel entirely comfortable flaunting such a fae feature so openly.
“If anyone stares?—”
“They won’t.” Jaxon was already beside her, his fingers threading through her waves as he pulled her close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Because they know.”
Araya swallowed hard, her resolve fraying under the heat of his breath against her skin.
“Know what?” she managed, her voice coming out weaker than intended.
Jaxon smiled against her jaw, dragging his fingers lazily through her hair. “What a lucky, lucky man I am thatyoubelong to me.”
Araya huffed a breathless laugh, making a half-hearted effort to twist away. “We have to go down to breakfast.”
Jaxon’s grin widened. “We could be late.”
His lips traced a slow path down her neck, his fingers skimming her waist, drawing her back into him, coaxing her toward surrender. Araya shivered, letting herself sink into the heat of it—the pull, the ache.
But when she blinked, she saw green eyes instead of dark.
Araya sucked in a sharp breath, stepping back. “I don’t want to disappoint your father.”
Jaxon studied her for a long moment, something unreadableflickering in his gaze before he sighed and extended his arm with a teasing grin. “Fine. But you still owe me—with interest.”
Araya stared at him, faltering for a moment as the memory of the dream rushed back to her. Loren had offered her his arm just like this—the thought left her reeling, like the world had shifted again under her feet.
But she pushed it away, slipping her hand through his arm and letting him lead her from his bedroom, willing the dream to stay behind where it belonged.
“I’ve never hada family breakfast before,” Araya admitted, smoothing the soft folds of the dress they’d given her. It fit perfectly, tailored so precisely that she suspected it had been purchased for her—even though she’d never been here. She should know better by now than to be surprised—Jaxon was always prepared.
“They can be more trouble than they’re worth.” Jaxon snorted, his grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But Father will be glad to see you—I know he was worried about you last night.”
The breakfast room was no grand dining hall, but it carried an understated elegance that made Araya acutely aware of how little time she had spent in places like this. Polished silverware gleamed at each place setting, and every detail of the table was meticulously arranged—from the fine china to the neatly folded napkins.
Garrick Shaw sat at the head of the table, already sipping a cup of tea as he thumbed through a stack of papers. He glanced up as they entered, his sharp gaze landing on his son before flicking to Araya, lingering just long enough that the hair on the back of her neck prickled.
“Good morning,” he said. “I hope you both slept well.”
“We did,” Jaxon said dryly, pulling out a chair and gesturing for Araya to sit. “Until your newest staff member made sure we were awake.”
