Stared several seconds… scoffed rough. "Was not."
"And definitely not drooling?"
"I do not drool — ever."
"And looked entirely safe and calm?"
"That borders insult."
Grinned wider. "So you admit… it worked?"
Faint dangerous spark flickered tired eyes. "I admit only: you used thoroughly underhanded methods."
Gasps loud dramatic hurt. "Care is warfare now?"
"From you? Yes."
Laughter filled warm air. At last he pushed upright slow — tall… unfolding with familiar lazy threat… even while exhaustion dragged heavy.
"If goal was force me to rest," he rumbled moving toward bed… "then yes — congratulations."
I followed fast. "Good. Now — my reward?"
Glance sideways sharp‑amused. "Reward for what?"
"Surviving your moods… saving you from collapse."
"You call simple wife‑duty… heroic legend?"
"In this house? Yes."
That earned faint real amusement — rare sound. Then he halted by bedframe… turned fully toward me. All teasing faded… leaving only heavy dark intensity.
Voice dropped… low… soft… absolute command:
"Come here… Seraphina."
Draven stared at me long after I asked for my reward.
Slowly — he lifted one hand.
I expected another mocking remark. Instead his fingers brushed soft through my hair… then gave one lazy, light pat right on top.
Gentle. Too easy.
"There," he murmured. "Your reward."
I blinked… then laughed quiet. "That's all?"
"Be grateful I even tolerate you at all."
"Such terrible cruelty."
"Mm."
Cold tone… yet he never moved away when I shifted closer and pressed against his side.
The room softened slowly after that. No teasing. No arguments. Just silence — good silence.
I laid beside him carefully… head close enough to catch the steady, slow beat beneath his chest. Strong. Calm. Strangely calming for a man built entirely on edge.
Eyes drifted shut listening… and for the first time since stepping into the North… sleep came easy.
***
Morning sunlight slipped thin between curtains — gold lines stretching across floor and bed‑edge.
I woke slow… blinked… and turned by habit — then frowned deep.
Gone.
Of course he was.
I pushed upright… spotted him across the room instead: stretched out on the second bed near the window. One arm thrown over his eyes… other loose across stomach… dark hair messy from rest — or only pretended rest.
With Draven… you never truly knew.
"This man honestly has problems," I muttered under breath.
I washed and dressed… sat before mirror brushing hair… adding only light touch of colour. But my gaze kept drifting back toward him. Still. Silent. Not moving once.
Curiosity finally won.
I crept soft… crouched beside his bed… and just stared for a moment.
Unfairly handsome thing… even "asleep".
Before I could think twice… I reached and pinched his cheek lightly.
Instantly — his hand snapped fast around my wrist. Iron‑firm. No warning.
Breath caught quiet.
Slowly… heavy lashes lifted… crimson eyes open — heavy… sleepy… annoyed… and already dangerous.
"You are irritating," he rasped — voice thick and rough.
I burst out laughing. "You barely sleep at all… and suddenly now you care about being disturbed?"
Low scoff answered me. I grinned… stood… and went back toward mirror.
Behind me… mattress shifted soft.
"Where are you going?"
"Outside."
"No."
Flat. Final. One sharp word.
I blinked… caught his gaze reflected back. "I hadn't even finished saying it yet!"
"Whatever foolish plan follows… I already know it."
"That's unfair."
"Accurate."
I rolled eyes… turned fully to face him. "I won't leave the estate walls. Just need fresh air."
"Breathe from the window then."
Stared back in disbelief. "You are impossible."
"And you attract trouble like a magnet."
That made me pause — because suddenly his tone was no longer joking.
He pushed upright slow… rubbed hand hard over tired face… eyes still rimmed faint red from exhaustion.
"Every step you take… every word… still watched," he said simply.
Chest tightened fast — memory flashing back: faint footsteps lingering outside our door last night… silence… confirmation.
"I am Duchess here," I argued soft but firm. "They dare not touch openly."
He leaned back against carved wood… expression set hard.
"Men grow bold… when they believe weakness found."
Quiet hung heavy between us… until at last he sighed deep.
"Go. But back before twilight touches stone."
Relief flooded fast. "So I can go?"
"Disobey me again… and I will not be gentle next time."
Heavy promise… yet it only made my smile widen.
"Understood perfectly… Your Grace."
I laughed quiet… slipped fast toward door. Behind me… long weary breath… then low mutter just before latch clicked:
"…Troublesome woman."
***
Garden silence… not peaceful. Watched silence.
I lingered by rose‑bed longer than needed… letting air touch skin… yet every shadow felt alive. House hummed distant life… but here — too still. Too neat. Too arranged.
Then — voice slid soft behind me: silk wrapped around blade.
"I wondered when you'd dare step out alone."
Turned slow… found Lady Matilda standing only steps away — as if she'd always been part of the hedge and bloom. Elegant. Composed. Something strangely familiar about her… cold‑familiar… that tightened chest before I knew why.
Her smile soft… polished… but never reached eyes.
"True then," she said light… scanning me slow. "You really did leave South behind."
I said nothing.
Glance flicked past me fast — checking empty paths. "And your quiet guard? Raphael… was it?"
My fingers stiffened. That name… suddenly felt far heavier than before.
She smiled wider… stepped closer… voice dropping low enough only I hear:
"Or should I speak truth instead… and say Duke Draven Everfrost?"
World didn't freeze… but something deep inside absolutely did.
Kept face steady. "That is foolish rumour."
"Is it?" Soft tilt of head… watching reaction exactly like doctor testing fever. "I saw you yesterday. Council hall. The way he changed instantly… every time another man leaned close or spoke soft to you. Guards do not look at employers with that kind of fire… or possession… or readiness to kill."
I stepped back careful — she followed exactly same measure. Slow. Certain. Like she knew exactly where I would go.
"I did not come here to argue gossip," I said careful.
"Oh… this is never gossip," she interrupted sweet… dark. "This is history written long ago."
That stopped me sharp.
She reached out… touched nearest rose… traced petal slow… then plucked it free. Held red bloom between us in morning light.
"Funny thing," she murmured. "Roses look perfect… strong… beautiful while alive."
Slowly… fingers closed tight. Petals crushed… torn… fell ruined red bits to earth.
"Yet so terribly easy to destroy."
Cold wind stirred sudden. I hated how she watched me now: no anger… no spite… only absolute decision — as if she had already written my end down clearly.
"One simple question," she said.
Silence.
"Do you truly love him?"
Quiet… heavier than shout. I hesitated fraction too long — fatal tiny pause caught instantly.
"That is not relevant," I answered firm.
Matilda smiled thin knowing curve. "Yes or no… is all needed."
Clenched hands tighter. "I am his wife. Duty is clear: stand beside… whatever comes."
She laughed — low… sharp… mocking sound.
"Duty." Tasted word like something bitter. "How noble indeed."
She walked deeper… and strangely — I followed. Curiosity? Warning? Or something in her pull too strong to simply refuse?
Paths narrowed… air thick with heavy scent. Matilda spoke casual… as if weather only:
"Long before war… before titles… before he became name feared everywhere… Draven and I trained side‑by‑side. Equal. Same rules. Same hunger."
Brief pause… voice softened almost sadly… "I thought… if I pushed hard enough… fought long enough… he would finally look at me… truly see me."
No tears. No heat. Just plain fact — worse than grief.
"He never did."
Exhaled slow breath.
"Then borders hardened… everything changed. Politics… hate… loss… shaped him hard until soft edges gone completely."
Her gaze snapped back to mine.
"But you?" Smile sharpened. "You never changed him at all."
Frowned confused. "I don't understand what you mean."
"Only truth," she corrected gentle‑terrible. "You were never the reason he became dangerous… or strong… or cold."
Step closer again — breath almost mingling.
"And definitely… you are not the reason he survives and stands today."
Chest tightened painful. "Stop speaking in riddles."
She ignored it… leaned near… whisper clear and cold:
"But I saw yesterday… when Ephraim smiled close… touched your hand… how that famous iron‑control slipped… fractured… almost broke in seconds."
Cold crawled spine upward.
"That was never duty… or guard‑work… or protection," she purred. "That was pure possession."
I stepped fast back — she advanced slow… unhurried… certain I would never truly run.
"And deeper… recognition."
Throat dry. "Whatever you try to prove… unclear to me."
Head tilted mocking.
"I prove nothing… child. I only remind you."
Glance traced every feature slow… deliberate.
"Draven Everfrost… never reacts to people."
Soft breeze stirred loose petals around ankles.
"I watched him ignore assassination attempts without blink. I watched cities burn… lords die… armies fall… while his face remained stone."
Her eyes locked final terrifying contact.
"Yet you?" Faint breath of amusement. "You make him lose composure… defy his own King… nearly declare war… all inside one crowded room."
Fingers curled hard into fabric.
"Enough," I said — voice lower… strained.
But Lady Matilda… never stopped speaking at all.