Liliette turned her head sharply, unable to hold back her laughter any longer. Her black veil fluttered gently with her movements, her silver hair shimmering softly in the sunlight.
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t picture it,” she said, struggling to stifle her giggles.
She envisioned him—neat black hair, thick brows, piercing gray eyes, and a perpetually stern expression—attaching a fringe to a snowman. The same man who could choke a tiger with one hand was now meticulously selecting small pebbles and perfectly curved twigs. As she imagined him scouring the snow while wearing his menacing leather gloves and immaculate black cloak, her slender shoulders shook with barely contained laughter. She knew it was impolite, but she simply couldn’t help herself. Lost in her amusement, she failed to notice his expression.
