Ariana stepped out of the bathroom, her hair slightly damp and wrapped in a towel. She wore a sleeveless, silk, milk-colored gown. Evening had already fallen, and she figured she might sleep early tonight.
If she and Zavren decided to go for a night walk—which was very possible—she could always change again, though she doubted it. Quietly, she walked toward the mirror and sat on the soft stool.
Her gaze shifted to Zavren. His hands were covering his eyes and forehead as he lay on the bed, as if lost in deep thought. He must not have noticed her, she thought. Then again, she often found herself wondering what went on in his mind—how he could hold so much inside without anyone sensing a thing. It was like he had the power to either reveal or completely hide his emotions. And he always chose the latter. He never showed them.
