Now that Athan was all freshened up, he got out of the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and changed himself with spare clothes—which he gazed at the gray cotton tunic and trousers hung by the broken garment rod in the wardrobe.
In which he trudged close to it, being a tad careful for all the mess that clumped within the room.
"Your Highness," Marianne muttered after a series of knocks erupted behind the door. "As you have requested, I made a coffee."
Without looking in its direction, he hollered in a snap. "You may come in."
Athan wore his trousers and was about to insert his left arm onto the unbuttoned tunic when the door clinked and opened wide. Her shock reactions piqued his interest from the peripheral vision, and he looked at her with nonchalance.
