Chapter 330: It Worked
~**Third Person**~
Meredith straightened, a quiet swell of pride rising in her chest.
Just then, the door creaked open and Draven stepped inside. His presence filled the room immediately, his sharp gaze flicking to the supplies before settling on her.
"Everything you asked for is here?" he asked.
Meredith nodded. "Yes. More than enough."
Then he walked closer, his movements unhurried but deliberate, and glanced over the table. His eyes lingered on the jars and bottles for a moment before they returned to her.
"Okay."
Meredith tied her hair back with the ribbon Deidra handed her, then slipped into one of the aprons folded neatly on the shelf.
Then she pulled the camphor leaves closer, inhaling the sharp, cooling scent before tearing a few into smaller pieces. Their natural oil released quickly, sticky against her fingers.
"Mortar," she murmured, and Deidra was quick to place it in front of her. Meredith dropped the leaves inside and began grinding them down until the green paste coated the bottom.
She added a pinch of dried valerian root, the earthy bitterness grounding the sharpness of camphor.
Draven said nothing, but she could feel his gaze on her. When she glanced up for the briefest second, he was leaning a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with that unreadable intensity he carried so well.
She cleared her throat and focused back on her work. "The sage will come next. It has to be burned before I add it to the mix—smoke works better than raw leaf."
Deidra hesitated. "Burn it? Here?"
Meredith gave her a reassuring nod. "Just a small bit. Open that window first."
As Deidra moved, Meredith struck a match, letting the dried sage catch fire for a few seconds before blowing it out and collecting the thin curls of smoke into the bowl.
She then mixed the ashes with the camphor and valerian paste and reached for the lavender oil. She added only two drops, and the room instantly smelled lighter and calmer.
"This will be the base," she explained, more to herself than to anyone else. "Alcohol will thin it out enough to spray on clothes or skin."
Behind her, Draven finally spoke. His voice was low and steady. "You sound sure."
Meredith stalled for a heartbeat, then allowed herself a small smile. "Because I am sure."
When she turned her head, his eyes were still on her—not just watching her work, but watching her. It made her chest flutter unexpectedly.
"Good," he said simply, though his gaze lingered on her a moment longer before he finally looked away.
Meredith pressed her lips together, hiding the grin tugging at them. She returned to the table, steady hands working the mixture with new confidence.
She poured the finished mixture into a small glass vial, sealed it, and gave it a shake. The liquid turned a cloudy green, faintly perfumed with lavender but still strong with camphor.
She held it up to the light, smiling faintly at her work. "This should be enough for a trial," she said. "You can bring one of your men."
Draven straightened from the wall and stepped closer, then he sent a sharp nod to a guard who had been waiting outside the door.
The guard stepped in, giving Meredith a respectful bow before standing at attention.
Meredith uncorked the vial and dabbed the liquid onto her fingers, then rubbed it across the man’s forearm and the collar of his shirt. The smell was sharp at first, but quickly softened.
"You could try to scent him now," she said nervously to Draven.
Draven’s eyes shifted, the dark edge of his wolf flashing for a brief second. He inhaled deeply, his brows pulling together as he took another step forward.
He circled the guard once, then finally stopped in front of Meredith.
"He smells human," he said, with a hint of surprise in his tone.
Meredith smiled, her eyes flashing with joy. "It worked?"
He gave a gentle nod. "If I didn’t know him, I would swear he was nothing more than human." Then he smiled at her, "This will do."
The approval in his tone sent a rush of warmth through her chest. She bit her lip, struggling to hold back a grin, but failed.
Draven reached out, brushing his thumb across her cheek, faintly smudging a bit of sage ash she hadn’t noticed. "You’ve done well."
Meredith swallowed, her pulse racing. In front of his men, he didn’t always let affection show—but the simple touch, the quiet praise, meant more than anything.
"Tomorrow," he said, finally pulling back, "We will test it in the field."
Meredith agreed with a nod.
Draven dismissed the guard with a short nod, then his gaze slid back to Meredith, who was carefully re-corking the vial, as if it were fragile glass instead of the sharp tool it had just become.
The faint smell of camphor still hung in the air, mixed with lavender, a proof of her work.
This scent was a disguise that could make his men pass for human, and it wasn’t just useful. It was a weapon, one Brackham would never see coming.
Draven allowed himself the smallest curve of his lips in return before turning toward the door, his mind already sharpening into strategy.
Finally, Meredith wiped her hands with a cloth, satisfied with what she had finished for the day. Turning to Deidra, she said softly, "Help me pack these up. We will continue tomorrow."
Deidra nodded and carefully began gathering the jars and bundles, slipping them back into their places in the wooden crate.
Together, they worked quickly, making sure nothing was left loose. When the last vial was tucked in, Meredith brushed off her hands and headed for the door.
As soon as she stepped into the hall, she caught sight of Mabel lingering nearby, her gaze darting past her toward the room.
Deidra didn’t miss it either. With a sharp look, she pulled the key from her apron pocket, turned it in the lock, and slipped it into her fist.
Then she stepped directly into Mabel’s line of sight, her expression polite but firm.
Meredith didn’t need to say anything. She simply walked past her sister, her chin lifted, while Deidra’s silent stance made it clear that no one was getting inside that room without permission.