Draven was standing across from me, his arms folded over his chest. He was dressed more simply than he had been the last time, clad in a long-sleeved, black tunic that was tucked in at his waist with a narrow, silver belt. Slim-fitting trousers of deepest charcoal tailored to his lithe muscular form were tucked into knee-high, black leather boots. Small leaves of embossed silver were stamped onto the cuffs of the boots.
I need him BIBKICALLY. Until all of Camelot hears
