"You were late," I repeated stubbornly.
Draven stood directly before me now, black gloves resting loosely behind his back while lantern light flickered across every sharp angle of his face — completely calm… completely arrogant.
One dark brow lifted slowly.
"And yet," he murmured smoothly, "I am still alive."
I glared instantly. "That is not the point at all."
A faint knowing smirk touched his lips. "No?"
"No."
The crowd around us had finally begun thinning, though servants and guards still lingered nearby — heads lowered, pretending not to watch. Somehow their quiet presence only made everything far worse.
Draven moved closer: one slow deliberate step… and then another. Until the cold scent of night air mixed with black cedar wrapped fully around me, leaving nowhere left to retreat.
"You seem quite upset," he observed lazily.
I folded arms tight in defence. "You said only a few hours."
"And?"
"You vanished and stayed gone the entire day."
