Three days after the tournament victory.
Draven's bedroom. Late evening. Moonlight streaming through windows. *Shhhh* - soft breeze.
He sat at his desk. Reading reports. Boring political bullshit from Duke Valerius. Congratulations on tournament win. Thinly veiled threats about his daughter. Standard noble nonsense.
*Knock knock knock.*
"Come in."
The door opened. *Creak.* Seraphina stepped inside. Closed it behind her. *Click.* Locked it. *Clack.*
She wore a thin nightgown. White silk. Practically transparent in the moonlight. Her platinum blonde hair loose. Ice-blue eyes locked on him.
"We need to talk," she said.
Draven set down the papers. "About?"
"You've been avoiding me."
"I've been busy."
"Bullshit." She crossed her arms. The nightgown tightened across her breasts. "Tournament ended three days ago. You celebrated with Elise. Spent time with Vivienne. Hell, you even sparred with Lyra yesterday. But me? Nothing."
Fuck. She was right.
"Seraphina—"
