Devon.

The gown was as black as a midnight velvet, flowing with regal grace.

Staring at the mirror infront of her Amanise watched the high collar frame her neck like a crown, while the fitted bodice, adorned with intricate sliver embroidery, accentuating a power she never knew she had. Long, bell-shaped sleeves draped like shadows and the full skirt whispers across the floor. The sheer weight commanding attention. The fabric, rich and luxurious. It spoke of wealth.

It made her internally question how rich the man was. How much was this fricking dress?!

The dress size and fitting felt like it was tailored especially for her. Did they measure her while she was asleep?

Every detail of the dress was sharp, elegant, deliberate. It exuded authority, mystery and a quiet confidence of one who held power over all, like no other.

The designer that made the dress was a genius. To top it all it was handwoven! He or she probably spent hours making this dress so she could wear it. She couldn't disappoint the expectations that came along with the dress.

Whoever they were seeing was powerful and her presence was supposed to be a message of some sorts. She couldn't deny that.

Either way the dress was undoubtedly hers.

Though it was hard to admit albeit a bit of a grudge. Hamlin Drew's taste in fashion was remarkable. She sighed inwardly, still admiring the dress.

Though the dress wasn't easily movable I'm a fight scene lest she tore up the fabric. Which she prayed that wouldn't happen. She felt that whatever battle she would face now would be a battle of wills.

This dress was her first dress yet it was already an eye opener.

Madeline bowed, Amanise didn't miss the admiration that equally mirrored her eyes. Despite whatever grudge Madeline had for her she didn't refute the stunning beauty Amanise was.

It made Amanise chuckle.

"Thirty minutes supposedly should have elapsed a long time ago. Let's go meet the Duke lest he meets us himself."

Madeline watched the red- eyed woman grin. Before nodding. Opening the door.

Dinner was quiet.

Amanise didn't feel the need to talk when there was more important things infront of her. Nevertheless there was a nagging thought at the back of her mind, she restrained herself from instinctively asking.

Focusing her gaze back on the food. A tantalising scent of cooked meat and other dishes wafted into her nose. She was drooling she was sure of it.

Her stomach quiet for seven days. She wasn't sure if they fed her yet or not, rumbled, hunger pangs followed the embarrassing sounds invading almost immediately. Fairly self-conscious, her gaze followed his movements as he ate to see him ignoring her blatantly.

Relief coursed her veins. Glad he wasn't smug or throwing at her a fairly disgusted look she suspected was a rare but familiar expression of his.

Rubbing her tummy with her gloved hands she dove into her meal like a hawk. Separating the vegetables. Stabbing ruthlessly at the tender meat. Enjoying an appalled gaze that lingered on her. The one Hamlin couldn't help but slip out from his stoic disposition.

She chuckled increasingly amused. She guessed that dinning etiquette seemed to be the only thing that could break into his stoic facade. Looking upwards from her meal to meet his gaze only to discover he was actively ignoring her.

She cut into the tender meat with a fork. Sounds of ceramic clacked in contact with her golden fork. Putting a piece of tender meat on her tongue. She bit back a moan. Sweet well spiced juices of the meat bursting flavours upon flavours on her delightful tongue. She sighed, enjoying every moment she chewed her tongue greedily tasting.

This was heaven.

This was how it felt like.

She toke another bite then another until the large food on her plate reduced significantly then go the last morsel. Savoring every last bit.

Hamlin had long finished his meal before her. It was a bit of a wonder to look at though she had never admit it to his face. His proper use of dinning etiquette with such a fluid grace, accuracy and speed almost deceptive to any gaze was art.

Beautifully so, it made her want to learn how to do that too. Because he was done with his. Even though his meal was relatively larger compared to hers. He was also making use of different sizes of fork without using a spoon not even once!!

A feat she hadn't reached without breaking a sweat.

What was wrong with her? Thinking of a meal instead of planning her next steps of acquiring information from the man sitting across her. A long dinning table in the middle of them.

An old man dressed like a butler in a white vest and black tailored trousers came into the largest dinning room she had ever witnessed. The old man was probably in his late sixties, he bowed to the extent he could. She could see the white sideburns of his freshly cut hair.

"The carriage is ready, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Finch."

The old man nodded. Pausing a bit before nodding to Amanise with a warm smile then leaving.

Amanise's breath hitched in her throat. An indescribable sense of sadness heaved her chest like a storm weighing her down. She caught a wreaking sob that threatened to escape in her throat, surprised. Wondering what the bloody hell was wrong with her!

She rose her head up to check whether Hamlin caught her visceral reaction.

Unsurprisingly, his grey eyes were on her. Silencing her thoughts. He gave no indication he saw what happened exactly but she wasn't a fool to believe his predatory gaze didn't catch up. She had be damned.

Those eyes reminded her of gray clouds on any gloomy day.

An approaching storm.

"Where exactly are we headed?"

Amanise stood up feeling the dagger she holstered on her thigh dug into her skin. She held back a wince. It was the dagger that she had with her ever since. The one she used to kill the monster. She was surprised when she found it, since she assumed it was destroyed when killing the monster only to be pleased on the fact it was retrieved for her and kept on the side table of her bed.

She took it when Madeline wasn't looking.

If she was going anywhere she needed to protect herself. And the dagger to her appreciation wasn't exactly normal.

She watched Hamlin brought up a handkerchief dabbing his lips looking irritatingly perfect as usual, not a single scruff on him.

He smiled unnerving her. It wasn't a full blown smile that would make anyone fuzzy.

It was a ghost of a smile. So unnatural and inhumane. She was for a second afraid she wasn't speaking to a human of flesh and blood. But rather a corrupted monster inside a skin of one.

Like a mask.

She suddenly had the urge of bending over in a swift motion, launching herself on him and brutally cut off the mask.

"Devon."