He nodded once — unbothered, completely certain he had done well enough.
My brows drew tight together. "She is far slimmer than I am — everyone knows that."
A short pause. Then I added — sharper now, unable to hold back: "And honestly… you are terrible at every kind of simple domestic judgment."
That line finally made him look at me properly. Not offended… not surprised… just studying me, evaluating the complaint as if it were some strange new piece of data.
He said nothing at first. Then, as though the whole discussion had already been filed away and dismissed in his mind, he slid his dagger smoothly back into sheath with a soft, final click.
I exhaled hard through my nose, still staring him down.
"I mean it seriously," I pressed on. "Elara's measurements? Of all possible people you might choose?"
"She was the closest available example I knew," he replied evenly.
"That is exactly the problem!" I shot back. "She is not merely 'close' — she is noticeably smaller everywhere."
Another silence stretched. His gaze lingered on me a second longer than strictly necessary… before he answered simply:
"I adjusted the numbers mentally."
I just stared at him. "…You adjusted mentally?"
"Precisely."
I blinked once… then let out a quiet, disbelieving scoff. "You really are hopeless at ordinary things, aren't you?"
This time — something faint flickered deep behind his eyes: near‑amusement, or perhaps only recognition of defeat. Still… he offered no reply. Instead he turned slightly away, clear signal the debate was finished.
Unfortunately… I knew better than to argue further.
I watched his back for a moment longer before moving slowly toward the bedside. The room had settled into deeper quiet now — heavy, still, almost too still.
Near the table, Draven seated himself comfortably: one leg crossed easily over the other, removing boots with the same precise, unhurried care he applied to absolutely everything. A few books already lay open beside him; maps spread half‑unfolded in soft candlelight.
And just like that… he had shifted shape again. From the sharp, dangerous man who held me steady in council… straight back into the calculating Duke who planned every move ahead. As if terrifying an entire noble assembly… or slicing seams open to fix my dress… were equally ordinary, trivial things to him.
My fingers curled tight against the bed‑edge.
Should I tell him now?
The thought rose sudden and heavy. Instantly Stephen's face flashed clear behind my eyelids — that cold, knowing smile… that weight pressing beneath his voice… and the terrible mark carved deep into his arm. My chest drew tight.
Would Draven grow angry? No — that was never truly the question.
Would he believe I had hidden facts deliberately? Would whatever fragile, strange trust beginning to grow between us vanish the moment I speak?
I lowered my gaze. But there was no choice here. I had to speak. Before things twisted further. Before Stephen struck first.
I drew quiet breath to steady myself… then lifted eyes toward him again.
"Drav —" I caught myself instantly, correcting fast: "…Raphael."
He never lifted head from the page he studied. Yet answer came immediately: "I hear you."
That simple readiness only made nerves twist harder. I swallowed lightly.
"It concerns matters back at the estate," I chose carefully. "At Everfrost House itself."
That finally caught real attention — subtle but unmistakable. I saw the tiny pause in his fingers resting against paper.
Still without looking fully up, he asked calmly: "Is Elara safe?"
The question came first… instantly… without hesitation or pause. Something soft and painful shifted deep inside my chest.
"Yes," I answered quickly. "She is safe and well guarded."
Only then did he resume turning the leaf. I stared at him in quiet frustration. How does he remain so perfectly composed?
"Raphael… there is something else I truly must tell you —"
"We shall speak of it later." Smooth. Polite. Completely dismissive.
He closed book softly and stood tall. "I intend to walk the grounds and familiarise myself with layout and guards."
A walk? Now?
I rose fast from the bed before I could think twice. "No — please wait — this really cannot wait until later!"
For first time since beginning, he lifted gaze straight fully onto mine. Then he raised one hand only slightly — not harsh, not forceful… yet enough to halt my words dead.
The air suddenly felt thinner, room smaller. Draven sighed soft and low… then stepped closer. Too close.
"You are far too tense," he observed calmly. His eyes searched my face a heartbeat longer, as if trying to read truth written beneath expression.
Then firm, final instruction fell: "When I return." Low. Absolute. Exactly as if no further argument existed.
My throat tightened. Because I knew perfectly well how this went: the moment he came back… there would be new meetings, new reports, fresh plans… and always something stepping between us. This conversation would slip further and further away… until too late entirely.
He turned before I could find words to stop him again… reaching for dark outer coat draped nearby. Candlelight glinted briefly against silver ring upon his hand.
Door swung open; cold night air drifted soft inside. Just before stepping fully out, he paused one second — never looking back.
"Lock securely behind me."
And then he was gone.
The silence that remained felt heavier… far heavier… than before. I stood motionless long minutes, staring at closed wood while unease settled deeper and colder through every bone.
Somehow… I already knew: this delay was a mistake.
After Draven left, quiet pressed down so thick it felt almost suffocating. I lingered still near threshold… eyes fixed where he vanished… until finally I let breath go slow and heavy.
Perhaps food might help clear tangled thoughts… or at least offer small distraction.
I slipped carefully out into corridor, turning key exactly as ordered behind me.
Hallways stretched dimmer now; whole house grown quieter still compared to earlier hours. Servants lowered heads respectfully as I passed: "Lady Seraphina…" I nodded faintly back… forcing every step to appear calm and composed despite what churned inside.
Kitchens still held warmth and rich scent — herbs, roasted meat, fresh bread hanging heavy in air — while maids hurried between counters carrying trays. They stiffened instantly seeing me… curtsying sharp and nervous: "My Lady."
One rushed forward eager to prepare refreshment… but before I could reply or stop her, I turned corner too quickly — and collided lightly yet solidly into someone standing just out of sight.
Sharp, distinct scent of medicinal herbs flooded instantly around us.
"Oh —!" I stepped back fast. "I beg your pardon — truly I did not see —"
The woman before me steadied herself without hurry or surprise. Older… elegant in a severe, sharp‑edged way; dark heavy robes falling to floor, marked subtly with official insignia belonging to the Royal Physicians' Order.
She studied me strangely — not rude… yet never warm either. Pure assessment.
Then quietly: "Lady Seraphina."
Something about the way she shaped my name sent cold prickle up spine.
"I was not watching where I walked," I replied carefully.
Short pause hung heavy. She glanced quickly around emptying work‑rooms… then leaned tone lower still.
"There is something private… I must speak with you about."
Brows drew tight in confusion. "Now? At this hour?"
"Yes." Flat. Certain. No room for question.
Nearby maids suddenly shifted visibly uncomfortable — eyes turning away, stepping quickly aside. That reaction alone sharpened unease to real alarm. Yet… I followed her anyway.
Deeper parts of ancestral estate felt older, darker; torchlight flickering weak and uneven over rough stone as she guided me down narrow passage toward western library wing.
The instant heavy door clicked shut behind us inside small private study… pulse leaped fast: air felt too enclosed… walls too thick… space too hidden.
She noticed everything. "You are afraid," she stated simply.
"I am careful," I corrected softly.
Faint expression touched her face — almost amusement… yet sad and worn. "Good," she murmured. "You have every reason to be careful indeed."
That helped nothing at all.
Room smelled strong of dried herbs, old parchment, and settled dust; shelves packed floor‑to‑ceiling with crumbling volumes and rolled scrolls everywhere you looked.
"You know very little truth regarding the North," she began again slow and soft. I remained silent… listening hard.
"Council speeches speak endlessly of honour… of preserving ancient bloodlines… of loyalty to Crown and Kingdom alike." Bitter smile touched lips briefly. "But history teaches plain truth: kingdoms are rarely built upon honourable foundations at all."
Chest tightened harder. "Exactly what are you trying to reveal to me?"
Instead of answering straight… she turned fully toward me. "I have one daughter," she said — unexpected shift that caught me completely off guard.
"She serves far away within Southern lands," she went on. "Living and working deep inside Everfrost estate itself."
Confusion tangled sharper. "Then why meet secretly to help South… if you yourself belong fully to Northern service?"
For first time… genuine heavy exhaustion broke through her careful mask. "Because long ago… I made terrible mistake," she admitted low. "One I cannot undo now."
Fingers tightened white‑knuckled against shelf edge beside her.
"I helped powerful men of North uncover something dangerous," voice dropped near whisper. "Knowledge they should never have touched or understood at all."
Stillness fell absolute around us. "And now?" I breathed carefully.
She looked away briefly… before answering heavy and raw: "My daughter would never forgive me… if Southern House falls entirely… and I remained silent while it happened."
No fear here — only deep, aching regret.
Before I could press further… she pressed fingers hard against carved edge of one bookshelf. Soft, distinct click. Breath caught sharp in throat.
Entire section of heavy wood shifted backward slow and silent… revealing narrow, dark‑hidden compartment deep behind it.
She reached carefully inside… and drew out something wrapped in worn black leather — bound tight, heavy even to look at. Faint embossed Everfrost crest marked front… and near corner: dark brown stain — unmistakable old dried blood.
Heartbeat slowed painful and heavy. "What is this?"
She stared long moments at bundle before handing it across toward me. "This," she said quiet and grave, "is exactly the reason why the South is destined to fall — unless changed."
I hesitated… then accepted carefully. It felt heavier than plain paper ever should.
"Late Duke Edward Everfrost committed fatal error shortly before his death," she continued low. "And when Council election day arrives soon… that one old mistake will be used to destroy House Everfrost completely."
Cold spread slow and heavy outward from chest into every limb.
"The North intends to use it openly?"
"They intend to bury entire Southern cause beneath it forever."
Room suddenly grew freezing. I swallowed hard. "What terrible thing did Duke Edward do?"
Her features hardened instantly to stone. "No." Sharp refusal absolute. "For now… the less you yourself know… the greater chance you still remain alive."
Safe? Nothing about this feels safe anywhere. My gaze dropped again toward black file resting heavy in hands. Does Draven already know? Is this exactly what Stephen threatened me about? Is this the secret everyone circled around all this time… never speaking plain aloud?
She stepped abruptly closer… voice urgent and breathless: "If wrong eyes discover you hold this document… you will never live long enough even to try opening its pages."
Pulse raced wild.
"Hurry," she hissed. "Hide it deep and well before anyone sees or suspects."
Fast as thought I slipped bundle tight deep beneath heavy folds of gown… pressing firm against side where it might stay unseen.
Already she moved toward door… throwing latch open. "We leave now — quickly."
I nodded fast… stepping out right behind her — only to freeze dead in place.
A voice rolled clear and cold along corridor stone: slow… measured… heavy with suspicion.
"Tell me please… Lady Seraphina… Physician… why exactly are you found inside my private hidden room?"
Every muscle locked rigid instantly.
Doctor stepped sharply back away from me. I spun fast toward entrance.
Father stood silent guard across passage… watching us both. Worse than anger — far worse — was what showed clearly in his eyes: deep, calculating doubt. Dangerous suspicion.
His gaze traveled slow and deliberate: from her face… across mine… then lingering one terrible heartbeat exactly where black bundle pressed hidden beneath fabric folds.
And in that frozen breathless moment… I truly understood fear at last.