Twenty-five minutes later, I step outside hating both Bael and myself a little.
Mostly myself.
Because I knew exactly what he was doing at breakfast. I knew he was provoking me deliberately, knew he recognized the one thing guaranteed to override my common sense was my refusal to let him look down on me.
And somehow I still walked directly into it anyway.
The morning air is cool enough that it brushes pleasantly against my skin as I make my way across the estate grounds, sunlight still soft and pale over the gardens. The paths are mostly empty at this hour, the estate quiet except for distant movement near the lower courtyard where staff have started their morning routines.
Bael is already waiting near the eastern path.
Of course he is.
One hand rests loosely in his pocket while the other holds his phone at his side. He looks up the moment he hears my footsteps approaching, grey eyes settling on me steadily before flicking once over the clothes I changed into.
