Zeraphine’s POV
The meeting ended, leaving my head spinning. My feet moved on their own as Draven and I walked out of the crowded hall. His hand rested lightly on my lower back. Not comforting, not protective. It was for show—a reminder of this act we were playing.
I could feel their eyes on us, sharp and judging, even as whispers hummed in the air behind us.
“Keep walking,” Draven said, his voice low, calm.
I didn’t look back. My heart thudded in my chest as I stared straight ahead. My palms were clammy, my throat dry. I hated this. The eyes, the whispers, the weight of pretending.
When we reached the hallway leading to his quarters, Draven pulled back his hand, his sharp green eyes scanning me like he was assessing damage.
“You didn’t embarrass me back there. I’ll take it,” he said
