"No," I said softly. "I'm not worried about your strength, Your Grace."
A small pause.
"I was only… surprised."
That was safer.
More acceptable.
My fingers tightened faintly before I added, more carefully,
"Traveling without your title… it may place you in unnecessary danger."
I didn't say us.
I didn't push further.
He watched me for a second—long enough to make me wonder if I had already said too much.
Then—
"It will not," he replied.
Simple.
Final.
The conversation could have ended there.
And it should have.
I inclined my head slightly.
"As you say, Your Grace."
Silence followed.
Brief.
Controlled.
Then—
"Prepare yourself," he added, already turning away. "We leave soon."
That was all.
No explanation.
No room to question.
I rose slowly.
"Yes, Your Grace."
But as I turned toward the door, something unsettled lingered in my chest.
Not fear.
Not quite.
Just… unease.
Not because he was weak.
But because he wasn't.
And somehow—
that made it worse.
*****
Evening had already settled by the time I returned to my room.
The sky outside was dim, the last traces of light fading into a quiet blue-gray. Inside, the atmosphere was different—busier.
A few maids moved quickly, folding fabrics, packing neatly into travel cases.
They stopped the moment I stepped in, bowing slightly.
"Your Grace," one of them said, already stepping forward.
"His Grace has given instructions for your attire."
I didn't question it.
I let them work.
Layers of expensive fabric settled over my skin—elegant, deliberate, far more refined than what a simple journey required.
When they were done, I barely recognized the reflection staring back at me.
Composed.
Polished.
Prepared.
For something I wasn't entirely certain of.
I stepped out.
And paused.
Draven was already there.
But not as I had ever seen him.
The usual presence of a Duke—measured, untouchable—was gone. In its place stood something sharper. Darker.
He was dressed simply. No insignia. No weight of title.
Just clean lines. Controlled movement.
And something else—
Danger.
Not the distant kind.
The kind that felt close.
Immediate.
My breath stilled for half a second.
He looked… different.
Less like a ruler.
More like something that didn't need one.
His gaze shifted to me.
Cold. Assessing.
"Are you coming?" he asked.
No greeting.
No pause.
Just that.
I inclined my head slightly.
"I need to see Lady Elara before we leave."
A brief silence.
Then—
"Go."
Nothing more.
He didn't stop me.
Elara's room was warm when I entered.
She looked up immediately, her expression lighting up before shifting into something far more dramatic.
"You're leaving already?" she said, sitting up quickly. "That fast? No, no, this is too sudden—what if something happens? You have to be careful.
And—and make sure my brother doesn't do anything reckless, he never listens—"
"Lady Elara," I said softly, though a small smile slipped through.
She ignored it completely.
"I'm serious," she continued, pointing a finger as if emphasizing every word.
"He's stubborn. Extremely stubborn. If he gets hurt, I'll blame you."
I blinked once.
Then nodded.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Behind me, Draven didn't interrupt.
Didn't deny it.
Didn't correct her.
Instead, he stepped forward, his hand resting briefly on Elara's head.
"Take your medication," he said.
Calm.
Unmoved.
"And don't cause trouble while I'm gone."
Elara huffed slightly, though she leaned into the gesture without thinking.
"Just don't take forever," she muttered.
He didn't respond.
That was answer enough.
The moment didn't linger.
It never did with him.
Outside, the night had settled fully.
The horses were already prepared.
The air felt colder.
Quieter.
I stepped into the small carriage, the interior far simpler than anything I was used to. No excess. No decoration.
Just space.
Draven followed, taking his seat across from me.
He didn't look at me.
His gaze remained fixed outside, watching the estate as if committing it to memory—or discarding it entirely.
The carriage shifted.
Then moved.
Slowly at first.
Then faster.
The estate began to disappear behind us.
And just like that—
We left.
The road had long lost its smoothness.
What began as a steady ride had turned uneven, the wheels dragging over loose stones and shallow dips.
Each jolt ran through the carriage without mercy.
I shifted slightly—too late.
Another sharp bump—
—and I lurched sideways.
Straight into him.
My breath caught. "I—I'm sorry."
Draven didn't move.
Didn't react.
Not even a glance.
He sat beside me like nothing had happened, gaze fixed outside, posture unchanged—as if the contact hadn't registered at all.
The silence that followed felt… louder than the impact itself.
I straightened slowly, hands folding into my lap.
"…What exactly is my role in this?" I asked after a moment, quieter this time. Careful.
He answered without looking at me.
"You're returning home."
I blinked.
"…Home?"
"You were taken," he continued, voice even.
"You escaped. With help."
A pause.
"My help."
Understanding settled in pieces.
So that was the cover.
I nodded. "I see."
Another silence stretched.
Then—
The horses suddenly shrieked.
Not a normal sound.
Sharp.
Panicked.
The carriage jerked violently to a halt.
My hand shot out instinctively, gripping the edge of the seat.
"What—?"
A groan came from outside.
Low.
Pained.
The driver.
My chest tightened. "What was that—?"
Before I could finish, hurried footsteps approached.
Uneven.
Dragging.
Then the side of the carriage shifted as someone leaned against it.
"My—Lord…" the driver's voice came strained, breathless. "We're under—"
He didn't finish.
Draven was already moving.
In one smooth motion, he stepped down from the carriage, a dagger sliding into his hand like it had always belonged there.
"Stay inside," he said.
Flat. Direct.
Not even looking back.
My fingers tightened. "Wait—Draven—"
He didn't stop.
"Stay calm."
And then he was gone.
I heard his boots hit the ground—
One step.
Two—
Then—
Silence.
No more footsteps.
Nothing.
Just the sound of the wind brushing through the trees.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Draven…?"
No answer.
Then—
A sound.
Sharp.
Clean.
A slice through air.
And—
A body hitting the ground.
Heavy.
Final.
My breath hitched.
My mind went blank.
"Draven!?"