The rest of the night passed calmly, and Madeline didn't dwell much on her dream. "It's just a dream," she had reminded herself, "nothing about it is real."
As she woke up that morning and ran a comb through her brown curls before the maid would come attend to her, she decided to let it go without troubling Draven with it. After all, it was only in her dream where she had white hair.
The previous night, Draven had comforted her, easing all her worries. Eloide had no need to set her bath, as Draven had taken care of everything. He had bathed her, showered her as though she were the most precious being. He had loved her unconditionally, touching her in ways that set fire dancing in her veins.
