"Seraphina."
My father's voice cut sharply through the silence.
I stiffened instantly.
Every gaze in the hall shifted toward me again.
The pressure in the room suddenly felt unbearable.
I couldn't tell what Draven was thinking anymore. His fingers still rested around my wrist calmly, but something about the atmosphere around him had changed.
Darker.
More dangerous.
"Come here," my father repeated.
My pulse quickened slightly.
Slowly, uncertainly, I tried to step forward—
And suddenly—
an arm wrapped firmly around my waist.
My breath caught in shock.
The entire hall erupted instantly.
Several guards shoved their spears forward with panicked expressions while council members rose halfway from their seats.
"Stop him—!"
"Protect the Duke—!"
But Draven merely clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Then— without releasing me—
he turned and began walking away.
Pulling me with him effortlessly.
My father looked genuinely stunned for the first time that morning.
"What is the meaning of this?!" he barked furiously.
Draven didn't even slow down.
Behind us, my father's voice thundered again.
"What kind of arrangement does my daughter have with a stranger?!"
The doors slammed open.
Then shut behind us violently.
The moment we entered the corridor, Draven released my wrist only to slam one palm hard against the wall beside me.
The sound echoed sharply.
I startled slightly as my back pressed against the cold stone.
Draven stood close.
Too close.
His head lowered briefly, eyes shut tightly like he was forcing himself not to say something truly awful.
Then he bit lightly against his lip before exhaling harshly.
"You…"
He stopped himself.
Actually stopped himself.
That alone made me nervous.
His hand remained against the wall beside my head while tension rolled visibly through his shoulders.
Finally, he looked at me again.
Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. Controlled anger.
"You're being punished."
I blinked quickly. "What?"
"For two things."
My heartbeat immediately sped up.
"What happened?"
Draven stared at me in disbelief for half a second.
Then— very slowly—
"Why," he asked calmly, "were you smiling so much at Ephraim?"
I froze.
Oh.
Oh no.
"I wasn't—"
"You were."
His answer came immediately.
"You smiled at him five times."
"…You counted?"
"Yes."
God.
I pressed my lips together immediately to stop the laugh threatening to escape because somehow this entire thing felt ridiculously unfair.
"I was trying to blend in," I defended quickly. "If I looked nervous, they would've noticed—"
"I don't care."
The interruption was immediate.
Cold.
"You don't smile at other men like that."
Silence.
I stared at him for a second.
Then slowly—
a horrifying realization settled into my chest.
This was jealousy.
Actual jealousy.
Coming from Draven.
My cheeks warmed slightly before I cleared my throat quickly.
"It wasn't like that."
His gaze narrowed. "But it will never happen again."
The certainty in his tone made my stomach flip strangely.
I swallowed before nodding lightly. "…Fine."
His eyes stayed on me for another second before he continued.
"The second thing."
Right.
I immediately became cautious again.
"When I told you to stay," he said quietly, "you still tried to leave."
My breath slowed slightly.
Oh.
That.
Draven was still pinning me between himself and the wall, his gaze steady enough to make it difficult to think properly.
"I…" I hesitated weakly. "My father called me."
"And?"
The single word somehow made me feel even guiltier.
I looked away briefly before sighing softly. "…I'm sorry."
Silence followed.
Then slowly—
his hand lifted.
Not threatening.
Worse.
His fingers tilted my chin upward gently until I was forced to meet his eyes again.
"You apologize too easily," he murmured.
The anger in his expression hadn't disappeared completely.
But it had changed.
Softened at the edges somehow.
His elbow rested against the wall beside my head while his other hand absentmindedly played with a strand of my red hair.
The movement felt strangely intimate.
Dangerously gentle for someone supposedly annoyed.
"So," he said quietly, "what exactly should your punishment be?"
My pulse stumbled slightly.
I immediately tried the safest option available.
Tilting my head slightly, I gave him my most innocent expression.
"How can you punish your own wife?"
Draven stared at me for one long second.
Then slowly shook his head.
"That won't work on me."
Damn.
I looked at his face carefully then.
The tension was still there.
The stress too.
Now that I paid attention properly, he genuinely looked exhausted.
Ever since we entered the North, he hadn't relaxed once.
Not truly.
Before I could think too hard about it, my hand lifted slowly toward his face.
The moment my fingers touched his cheek—
his entire body hardened slightly.
His eyes narrowed immediately.
"That won't work either," he warned quietly.
But this time, instead of arguing, I gently placed one finger against his lips.
Draven went still.
Completely still.
Then my other hand rested lightly against his shoulder.
"You've been stressed since we arrived here," I said softly.
The muscle beneath my palm tightened instantly.
His gaze darkened slightly. "…What are you doing?"
"Helping."
A faint scoff escaped him.
"You call this helping?"
"Yes."
"Seraphina," he muttered lazily, "I am still annoyed."
"I know."
"And you're attempting to distract me with mundane things."
I ignored that completely.
"Sit down," I told him calmly. "I'm going to help you relax."
Draven actually chuckled then.
Low. Disbelieving.
"Relax."
Like the word itself sounded ridiculous to him.
Still— he hadn't moved away.
That alone felt like victory.
"And if I'm not satisfied afterward?" he asked quietly.
I folded my arms slightly. "Then I'll continue until you are."
One brow lifted slowly.
Dangerous answer.
My confidence immediately weakened slightly under his stare, but I forced myself to continue anyway.
"You'll know it's working if you make even one satisfied sound."
For one long second—
Draven just stared at me.
Then very slowly—
his mouth curved beneath the mask.
Not soft.
Not kind.
Something far more dangerous.
"Careful," he murmured quietly.
"That's a reckless challenge."
Draven allowed me to pull him toward the chair with visible reluctance.
"Ridiculous," he muttered under his breath. "I cannot believe I'm entertaining this."
I ignored him completely.
"Sit properly."
"That sounded disrespectful."
"You're impossible when you're stressed."
"That sounds even more disrespectful."
But he sat anyway.
The moment he leaned back into the chair, I crouched carefully in front of him and reached for the dark boots strapped around his legs.
His gaze lowered immediately.
Silent. Watching.
My fingers worked slowly against the leather straps while strands of my red hair slipped forward over my shoulder, spilling softly across his knees as I knelt there.
For a brief second, something unreadable crossed his face.
Then he leaned his head back slightly, inhaling once through his nose before exhaling slowly.
I finally pulled one boot free before moving to the next.
"There," I said softly. "Better."
"I survived before this."
"Barely."
A faint scoff escaped him.
When I stood again, I reached for the heavy black coat draped over his shoulders and carefully slid it off him.
The fabric fell beside the silver mask he had thrown onto the floor earlier.
Without the coat and layers hiding him, he suddenly looked different. Still dangerous. Still intimidating. But… human.
I moved closer again, fingers brushing lightly against the buttons of his shirt.
Draven's eyes fixed on me instantly.
"You're staring," I murmured.
"You're touching my clothes with suspicious confidence."
"That's because you complain too much."
"You've become bold recently."
I smiled faintly but continued unbuttoning his shirt carefully anyway.
The candlelight slipped across the exposed skin beneath, revealing the sharp lines of muscle across his chest and torso.
Draven looked away briefly afterward, jaw tightening once before relaxing again.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Once the shirt loosened enough, I stepped behind him and rested both hands carefully against his shoulders.
His muscles were unbelievably tense beneath my touch.
"You're carrying enough stress for three kingdoms," I muttered.
"And yet somehow you remain the most exhausting part of my day."
"That means you'd miss me if I disappeared."
"No," he answered immediately.
A pause.
"…The estate would simply become quieter."
I laughed softly under my breath before pressing my fingers deeper into the tight muscles near his shoulders.
Draven inhaled sharply once. Almost too quietly to notice.
My smile widened slightly.
"Does it feel good?"
"Terrible."
I nodded seriously. "Understood."
Then continued anyway.
After a few moments, I reached for the small bottle of scented oil nearby, pouring some carefully into my palms before warming it between my hands.
Draven watched me silently now.
Carefully.
Especially when I moved around to stand in front of him again.
This time, my hands settled lightly against his chest before slowly working downward across the tense muscles of his torso.
I blinked once.
"These are actually real."
One brow lifted lazily.
"What exactly were you expecting?"
I tilted my head thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe secretly a soft stomach beneath all the dramatic behavior."
A slow smirk appeared on his face.
"Does this look fake to you?"
My gaze flicked across him once before I nodded very seriously.
"Possibly."
"Liar."
I laughed quietly and continued anyway.
Minutes passed slowly.
The room softened around us little by little, the earlier tension dissolving beneath warmth, candlelight, and quiet conversation.
Draven remained stubbornly composed through all of it.
Even when his breathing deepened slightly. Even when his shoulders gradually relaxed beneath my hands.
But the moment my fingers brushed lower across his abdomen—
his hand caught my wrist instantly.
Firm.
I blinked.
Draven exhaled slowly through his nose, his grip tightening slightly before loosening again.
"You're cheating."
The accusation came low and calm, though his breathing sounded noticeably less steady now.
I stared at him innocently.
"I apologized already."
"You're about to."
A soft laugh escaped me.
"So the terrifying Duke is actually human after all."
Draven looked away immediately.
"I'm tolerating this as a favor to you."
"Of course."
Clearly amused now, I gently freed my wrist before moving behind him again.
This time, I reached toward his dark hair carefully, working a small amount of oil through the strands.
Draven didn't protest.
Which honestly surprised me more than if he had.
The warm air from the dryer filled the room softly afterward as I worked through his hair carefully with slow fingers.
At first, he remained upright and alert.
Then gradually—
his posture eased.
The tension left his shoulders little by little.
His eyelids lowered halfway.
And after several long minutes, a quiet sigh finally escaped him.
Content.
I paused slightly at the sound.
Because I realized suddenly—
this might've been the first time I had ever seen Draven truly relax.
I moved closer slowly, still smiling to myself.
Draven sat there half-reclined in the chair, eyes closed, dark hair slightly messy from my hands running through it repeatedly. For once, the constant tension around him had loosened completely.
And honestly—
seeing the terrifying Duke Everfrost asleep because of me felt absurdly satisfying.
A quiet laugh escaped me.
"You actually fell asleep."
His brows twitched faintly.
Then slowly—
those sharp silver eyes opened again.
Half-lidded. Heavy. Slightly red from exhaustion.
For the first time since meeting him, he looked genuinely caught off guard.
I folded my arms proudly.
"So you were satisfied."
Draven stared at me for a few seconds before scoffing softly.
"I wasn't."
"You were drooling in your sleep."
"I don't drool."
"You looked peaceful."
"That sounds insulting."
I grinned immediately.
"So you admit it?"
A dangerous look flickered faintly across his face then, though exhaustion still weighed heavily beneath it.
"I admit," he said slowly, voice rougher now, "that you used underhanded methods."
I gasped dramatically. "A spa is underhanded?"
"For you? Yes."
That only made me laugh harder.
Draven watched me quietly for a moment longer before finally pushing himself upright from the chair.
Tall. Slow. Still carrying that lazy dangerousness even while tired.
"If your goal was forcing me to sleep," he muttered while walking toward the bed, "then congratulations."
I followed behind him immediately.
"And my reward?"
He glanced sideways at me.
"My reward for enduring your terrible attitude and saving your stress."
"You're describing basic wife activities like heroic accomplishments."
"They are heroic."
That earned the faintest huff of amusement from him.
Then he stopped beside the bed and looked at me properly.
"Come here."