I didn't wait any longer.
The silence outside felt wrong — too still… too heavy.
I shoved the carriage door open and stepped down; shoes sank soft into rough, uneven ground.
Night had deepened. Shadows stretched long across the road, swallowing shapes before I could tell what they were.
"Draven?" I called again — voice tighter now.
Nothing.
Chest pulled tight as I took slow, careful steps forward… eyes straining hard against dark.
"Draven —"
Suddenly — a hand clamped firm around my waist. Hard. No give.
Before I could even gasp — another pressed tight over my mouth.
I jerked back in shock… dragged instantly against something solid, unmovable as stone. Struggled wild, shoving hard at the arm holding me — muffled sound caught in throat: "Mm —!"
"Shhh."
Low. Right against my ear. Familiar.
My fight died instantly.
"Angel Sera…Phina."
Breath stuck in my chest. That name… no one else dared use it.
Then scent hit me: faint but unmistakable — steel, worn leather… and something sharp, cold underneath.
Draven.
Every muscle went still. He felt the change at once.
Hand over my mouth loosened slow… slipped away — but grip around my waist stayed locked firm.
"Stay quiet," he rumbled.
I nodded fast.
He shifted… guiding me forward close beside him. Only then I saw what rested heavy in his free hand: a dagger. Blade dark… wet.
Breath hitched sharp — but I didn't say a word.
We moved fast. Not back toward the road… straight for the gate ahead.
I hadn't even noticed it before. Torches burned along high walls, flickering light over armored guards standing watch. Every head snapped our way instantly.
Draven didn't slow. Didn't hesitate even a step.
"Lady's hurt," he said — voice altered deep and flat behind the mask covering half his face.
I froze half‑second. Mask?
Lifted eyes and really looked at him for first time. Subtle change… but enough. Looked different — unknown, untraceable. I got it instantly.
Without sound, I let my weight lean heavy against him… steps drag just enough to sell the lie perfectly.
Guards reacted sharp.
"No questions." His tone dropped — short, biting, absolute. "Open it — NOW."
Heavy iron doors groaned wide fast. No one blocked us. No one asked his name. Every eye locked only on me. Exactly how he planned it.
They hurried us through — hands reaching steadying me, voices overlapping loud with worry. I kept head bowed deep… played the part perfectly.
Only when we passed fully inside… and noise shifted behind us… did his fingers tighten just once at my side.
Pause. Then — breath warm low by ear: "Good."
I let my body sag just a little more — not falling… but looking ready to drop. Stumbled soft… caught hard at an attendant's sleeve.
"My leg —" I breathed… letting voice crack weak. "I… think it's broken."
Worked instantly.
Attention shifted hard. Hands steadied me rougher, faster. Someone shouted for physician… another yelled for chair.
Through all of it… I felt him. Draven. Standing just behind. Silent. Watching everything like a hawk.
They led us into wide hall — light flooding harsh from chandeliers, blinding after dark outside. I sank slow onto bench when urged… moved stiff, careful… enough pain to look real.
Then — sharp voice cut clean through noise: older, hard, full of authority.
"Who is he?"
I lifted head. Elder noble stood apart… gaze fixed not on me — straight through Draven. Measuring every inch. Suspicion sharp as blade.
"Your name?" he demanded. "And what business brings you here with her?"
Brief heavy silence fell. I glanced sideways… waiting. Watching.
Then — calm, steady… zero hesitation:
"Raphael." Draven didn't blink. "Raph… if you like it shorter."
"Just a traveler," he went on even and flat. "She crossed my path… begged for help getting away." Short pause… heavy meaning sharp in every word. "Escaping the Duke."
Murmurs burst loud — confused, curious… already turning skeptical.
"Escaped him?" one repeated shocked. "You expect us to believe the Duke — of all men — would ever let his own wife slip free so easy?"
Another voice cut sharper: "That man locks everything down tight!"
I didn't look at Draven… but felt it — tiny shift, barely there. Pride cold and dark rising off him. They feared his name… and didn't even know they stood right in front of him.
"Duke wasn't home," Draven said simply… like stating obvious fact. "Left hours ago on separate urgent work."
That stirred them worse.
Whispers rose fast, bolder every second: "Of course he's gone…" "Hardly ever stays put…" "Cold absent husband…" "Poor lady…"
Draven let them run their mouths… just long enough.
Then — "That's enough."
Voice never raised… but cut through everything like steel through silk. Instant dead quiet fell over whole room.
"Didn't bring her here to answer endless questions," tone still even… but lethal underneath. "I was paid job: get her safe… and make sure she's cared for proper."
One sharp glance my way — heavy, measuring. "Nothing more… nothing less."
No excuses. No begging. Just hard purpose. And that shut every mouth.
No one dared push further.
Attendants stepped in fast… lifted me steady between them. "This way, Your Grace."
I didn't correct her. Didn't speak at all. Let them guide me down quiet corridor… lantern glow flickering soft on walls. My "hurt" leg dragged heavy enough to keep act perfect.
Behind us — his footsteps followed. Slow. Measured. Unhurried.
Room they brought me into was big… too big. Rich hangings, heavy curtains, polished floors reflecting dim light. Helped me sink onto bed edge… already smoothing sheets, plumping pillows — fast, efficient.
Then — flat, hard voice dropped: "I stay."
Attendants froze… turned slow confused faces.
"You?" one blurted startled. "Sleep… here?"
Another frowned sharp. "Not proper. You're stranger."
Elder man rumbled from doorway — suspicion back full force: "We never allow unknown men alone with Duchess. You think we're fools?"
Brief silence heavy as lead.
Then Draven's answer came — calm… absolute certainty.
"If I wanted her dead or hurt…" words fell clean, cold truth impossible to fight… "I'd have done it already. Long before we reached gate."
Still… hesitation lingered thick.
I breathed soft… lifted head slow, voice thin and weaker still: "My escort… he stays."
Strange taste in mouth — escort, not lord or husband. Didn't glance his way… but felt the shift instantly. Jaw tightened hard. He hated the downgrade… but understood exactly why it had to be.
"Please," I whispered soft.
That was enough.
Reluctant mutter: "Fine then… but we'll bring separate cot."
Work moved fast after that. Main bed smoothed perfect… smaller narrow bed set far at room's end — clear distance… deliberate separation. Thin silk curtain drawn between: not real privacy… just visible divide to satisfy rules.
"Physician comes soon," maid murmured before bowing out. Door clicked shut soft and final.
Heavy silence fell — and at last… truly alone.
Quiet stretched huge inside high walls. I sat still on bed edge… fingers laced loose… eyes drifting toward him.
Draven no more — only Raphael now.
Even masked… stripped of title… he never blended in. Impossible.
Stood near table… sleeves rolled up forearms… map spread wide under hands. Candlelight sharpened every hard line of face… shadows turning him less like traveler… more like commander planning war. Every move precise, cold, calculated.
Small guilt twisted tight in chest.
Almost slipped old name again: "…Dra —" bit it back fast… corrected soft careful: "Raphael."
He didn't lift eyes… but hand paused sharp over paper. He heard it loud and clear.
Almost smiled… almost.
"What's plan now?" I asked quiet. "And please… don't get tangled in trouble just because of me."
This time he looked up — slow… just enough gaze heavy and dark over flame.
"It won't happen," short flat answer… like worry wasn't even worth wasting breath on.
His eyes dropped straight back to map. Conversation done.
No soft words. No reassurance. Just absolute certainty.
I exhaled slow… leaned back quiet against post… watched him work. Long time passed — candle burning low… silence never awkward… only focused, sharp, alive.
And I realized: This is him. Not Duke on throne… not cold figure at table head… the raw man underneath: relentless, sharp‑minded, dangerous to bone.
Fingers pressed tight in lap. I won't mess this up. Not ever.
Time slipped… room dimmed deeper.
Then — his hand froze motionless.
I noticed slow… straightened quiet. Silence changed weight.
"…Raphael?"
No sound back.
Stood careful… steps soft over floorboards… crept closer slow. Still sat upright… head bowed slight… eyes shut fast.
For second I only stared shocked. He actually fell asleep? Right here? At desk?
Soft breath escaped me quiet. What do I do now? Leave him? No… felt wrong. Couldn't lift heavy weight anyway.
Glanced round… spotted folded blanket laid nearby bed. Fingers curled firm over fabric. Just cover him. That's all.
Heart beat faster for no good reason… stepped closer slower still. If he wakes sudden…
Shrugged thought away. Lifted blanket high… leaned forward soft… draped light over broad shoulders. Tucked edges neat so it wouldn't slip… fingertips brushed warm fabric near arm.
Still silence. No twitch.
Relief breathed out soft… straightened slow —
And lifted gaze straight into open eyes.
Breath died in throat. "—!"
He was fully awake. Calm. Watching me every second.
I froze dead still… mind blank. Heat rushed burning fast up neck and cheeks… stumbled correction again: "Raphael… you were awake all along?"