I Married My Mate's Enemy
“I could not sleep.”
“None of us could,” Mara said. “It feels strange to meet without expecting an attack.”
I nodded. “Strange, but necessary.”
The door opened again, and Warren stepped in. He carried a stack of parchments under his arm, his hair still damp from washing. The light caught the edge of his cloak, the deep red darker than usual in the morning shadows.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, setting the papers on the table. His voice was calm, steady, the voice of command turned toward creation instead of war.
Bab Populer