Hunter put on his clothes and strode out of the training room with a satisfied stride, reminding himself to return tomorrow.
On the other end, Ian was in the middle of washing herbs when a knock came. Without looking up, he called for the person to enter.
The door opened, and measured footsteps broke the calm of his new workroom. The person didn't speak, clearly waiting for orders.
"Speak," he muttered, squeezing the herbs as black juice trailed down his gloved hands and into a glass tube.
"Your Royal Highness, dinner is served and the queen is waiting," a respectful voice said. Ian looked up to see a caramel-skinned, brown-haired maid with her head lowered.
"It's dark already," Ian muttered in surprise, placing the herb inside a ceramic bowl. "Inform Her Majesty I'll be there in two minutes."
The maid bowed and walked off briskly, leaving Ian pulling off his glove, distracted.
