"Seraphina."
Father's voice cut cold as steel straight through the heavy hall silence.
I stiffened instantly. Every eye turned sharp my way — pressure building until the air felt too thick to breathe. I could not read his face behind the mask… yet the shift around Draven was undeniable: darker… heavier… something far deadlier rising. His fingers still wrapped calm and unyielding around my wrist — iron hold, anchored against the storm.
"Step forward. Now." Sharp. Absolute.
My pulse raced. Slowly… uncertain… I began to move — when suddenly: an arm locked firm around my waist.
Breath caught hard.
Chaos exploded instantly. Guards surged forward, spears levelled — panic and confusion writ clear. Councillors scrambled half‑upright… shouts rang loud:
"Stop him — seize him!"
"Defend the house — protect the Duke!"
Draven only clicked his tongue once. Short. Bored. Annoyed.
Without loosening his grip even a fraction, he simply turned… and walked away — pulling me effortlessly in his wake. As if the whole room, its weapons, and its furious ruler were nothing but dust beneath his boots.
Father stood frozen — truly stunned for the first time all day.
"What is the meaning of this insolence?!" he roared behind us.
Draven never slowed. Never glanced back.
"What kind of shameful understanding exists between my daughter… and a stranger?!" the King thundered down the hall.
Great doors were thrust open wide… then slammed violently shut behind — cutting off noise and witnesses completely.
Inside the stone corridor…
Only then did he let go my wrist — only to replace space with pressure: one gloved palm slammed hard flat against the wall right beside my head. The sound rang sharp and cold down the passage.
I stumbled back… pressing spine against chill grey stone. He stood too close — filling every breath with him. Head dipped low… eyes squeezed shut as if biting back words far worse than anything spoken yet. Jaw worked tight… he bit briefly his lip… and exhaled harsh and ragged.
"You…"
Voice broke. Stopped dead.
That alone made fear rise. Draven did not hesitate.
His hand stayed planted beside me… tension rolling visible down broad shoulders. At last he lifted his gaze — dark eyes burning clear… every line carved hard with controlled fire.
"You are being punished."
I blinked fast, confused. "…Punished? For what?"
"Two things."
Heart jumped. "And what exactly did I do?"
He stared — plain disbelief sharp even behind mask edges — before speaking slow and precise:
"Why were you smiling so freely… at Ephraim?"
Everything froze inside me.
Oh.
Oh no.
"I wasn't—"
"You were. Five times. I counted each."
"…You actually counted?"
"Yes."
God above… I bit my lip hard to hold back wild, ridiculous laughter — the whole thing absurd even while dangerous.
"I acted properly only… to blend in," I defended fast. "If I looked stiff or afraid… they'd guess everything instantly—"
"I don't care." Cold. Final. "You do not give soft smiles… to other men."
Silence stretched heavy. And suddenly I knew: this was not anger… this was raw, living jealousy. From Draven Everfrost himself.
Cheeks warmed despite me. "It was never meant that way."
Gaze narrowed. "It will not happen again."
That absolute certainty sent a strange dizzy flip through me. I swallowed… nodded quick surrender. "…Understood."
Dark eyes held mine one beat longer… then: "Second matter."
Caution snapped instantly sharp.
"Earlier," he said low and tight… "when I said stay… you tried to walk… at his call."
Breath slowed. Heavy.
Ah. That.
Still pinned between him and stone… his gaze made thinking almost impossible.
"He is my father… he commanded—"
"And?"
One short word… heavy enough to double my guilt. I looked away… sighed soft truth. "…I'm sorry."
Quiet measured… until slowly… his hand lifted from the wall. Not threatening — far worse. Fingers curved soft… tilting my chin up until I could not look away.
"You apologise too easily," he rumbled deep and rough.
Sharp anger had not gone… but edges softened — melting into something far more complex… warmer… far more dangerous.
Elbow rested casual against the frame… his other hand moved slow… twisting a strand of my red hair between fingers — shockingly gentle touch for a man still bristling with irritation.
"So," low tone turning dark amusement… "what punishment fits you best?"
Heart stumbled. I reached instantly for my safest trick — tilted head… widest innocent look I had.
"But… how do you punish… your own wife?"
He stared long… then shook head slow.
"That trick? Won't work here, Seraphina."
Damn it.
I looked closer now — past anger… seeing truth: deep shadows heavy under eyes… lines carved deep around mouth and brow. He was worn thin… exhausted past breaking point. Since entering Northern lands… he had never once truly lowered guard.
Before I thought better… hand lifted slow toward his face. Instant reaction: whole body hardened like iron… eyes slitted sharp warning.
"That trick also fails," he warned rough.
This time I did not pull back or argue — I simply pressed one soft finger light against his lips.
He went completely still. Breath caught. My other hand rested steady on his tight shoulder.
"You have carried too much weight… since the day we arrived," I said quiet truth.
Muscle knotted harder. "…And what exactly do you think you are doing?"
"Helping you breathe easier."
Low scoff vibrated deep. "Call this help?"
"Yes."
"Seraphina…" lazy warning dragged out… "I am still angry with you."
"I know."
"And you try to distract me from discipline… with soft nonsense."
Ignoring protest… I stepped back slightly… kept his attention. "Sit properly in that chair. I mean to ease some of this terrible tension."
For a second he actually chuckled — low… disbelieving… as if the word relax belonged to another language.
"Relax. Amusing dream."
Yet — he did not step away. That stubborn refusal was victory already.
"And if," he challenged quiet and lethal… "I remain unsatisfied with whatever you try?"
I folded arms… met his gaze bold. "Then I keep going… until you are satisfied."
One dark brow lifted slow — interest sharp and rising. Dangerous answer indeed. My confidence wavered just a fraction under that weight… but I held firm.
"You'll know it works," I added softer… "if even one sound of relief slips out."
Long heavy silence… him measuring every breath… before a curve grew slow beneath mask — not soft… not sweet… heated and wicked instead.
"Careful what you promise… Lady Wife," he purred low. "That is reckless indeed."
He let himself be drawn slow and reluctant toward the heavy carved chair… muttering non‑stop.
"Utterly ridiculous… cannot believe I allow this…"
"Sit straight."
"That tone borders disrespect."
"You are impossible when burdened."
"And that is worse."
Still… he lowered himself long‑legged and heavy into the seat.
Instantly I crouched before him… working first at tight leather boot straps. His gaze dropped… heavy… watching every single movement without blink. Red hair fell loose forward… spilling soft across his knees as I knelt. For a heartbeat something sharp and unreadable crossed his face… fast as shadow… before he leaned head back… drew deep breath… fought the habit of eternal guard.
First boot free… second too.
"Better already," I whispered.
"I survived fine without pampering." Low. Flat.
"Barely. And never well."
Another scoff.
When I stood… hands slid away his heavy black coat — dropping it beside the silver mask already discarded on floor. Without thick layers… he remained formidable… dangerous… but human too — sharp lines revealed… no longer wrapped deep in mystery.
Stepping closer… fingers undid shirt buttons slow. His eyes locked instantly… tracking every motion.
"You watch far too hard," I murmured.
"And you handle my clothes… with far too much confidence." Lazy… rough.
"Only natural… when you complain about everything."
"You have grown dangerously bold lately."
Small smile… kept working until candlelight glided warm across exposed skin: hard‑wrought muscle… defined lines… strength built through years of war and command. Draven glanced briefly aside… jaw tightened once… then forced himself to yield.
Interesting reaction indeed.
Once shirt fell open enough… I moved round behind… pressed both hands firm into ridged shoulders and back. Knots met me — rock‑hard… days of unrelenting watchfulness trapped deep.
"You carry enough weight here… to crush three kingdoms," I muttered pressing deep.
"And still… you remain the most exhausting part of every day."
"Translation: you'd miss me terribly if gone."
"Not at all." Instant denial… then dry addition drifted slow: "…The house would simply be quieter."
Laughter rose warm… and I pressed harder into tightest spots.
Draven drew one sharp breath — fast… almost hidden. My smile widened.
"Better?"
"Terrible." Flat as stone.
I nodded solemnly. "Understood." — and kept exactly same pressure.
Soon I reached for scented oil… warmed it fast between palms… and moved again to stand before him. Hands rested light over hard chest… glided slow deliberate down ridged torso.
I blinked true surprise. "Truly… all of this… is actually real?"
Brow lifted amused. "What fantasy version did you imagine?"
Head tilted thoughtful. "Half‑expected… soft ordinary belly… hidden under all that dramatic menace."
Slow wicked grin returned. "Does this look like a lie?"
I traced slow upward… nodded exaggerated gravity. "…Still possible I am fooled."
"Liar." Fond accusation… rough voice.
Minutes stretched soft and slow. Room warmed… old tension dissolved little‑by‑little under light and scent and easy teasing. Draven stayed stubbornly composed… even as breathing deepened… even as iron shoulders finally yielded.
But the instant fingers drifted lower… brushing taut abdomen — his hand snapped fast around my wrist. Firm. Absolute. Stopped me dead.
He exhaled long heavy breath… grip tightened… then loosened slow. Voice dropped rough… uneven… far less steady:
"Now — you cheat."
Wide‑eyed innocence. "I already apologised earlier…"
"And you will do so properly… soon." Dark warning.
Soft laugh bubbled out. "Ah — so terrifying Duke Everfrost… is human after all."
He turned gaze away… feigned disdain terrible act. "I endure this… only as favour to you."
"Naturally — noble sacrifice indeed."
Amused now… I freed hand… moved behind again. Poured fresh oil… worked deep into dark hair at nape and temples.
Not one protest. That silence spoke louder than words.
Slowly… imperceptibly… guard fell completely: upright posture melted… back leaned heavy deep… head tipped fully back. Eyelids drooped… heavy… until finally — one sound escaped: deep… slow… truly contented sigh.
I froze. Realisation warm and bright: first time ever… I saw him truly at peace.
Smiling quiet… I leaned closer. He lay half‑reclined… eyes shut… hair soft and messy… every armour piece finally laid down. Seeing the most feared man in the realm… drift to rest because of my hands… felt absurdly wonderful.
Soft whisper: "You fell asleep… Duke."
Brows twitched faint. Then slow… heavy lids lifted… crimson gaze soft‑blurred… slow… red‑rimmed… caught completely off guard.
Arms folded triumphant. "Admit it — you were satisfied."