Draven's pov
I couldn't sleep.
The whole dinner replayed in my head like a broken record. Zeraphine’s sharp words, the way she carried herself with defiance, and the way she ignored me—it all kept circling in my mind, leaving me restless. Tristan’s jabs didn’t help either, his words about her lingering like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
I stared at the ceiling of my room, my chest heavy with thoughts I didn’t want to confront. The silence was unbearable, so I pushed off the covers and stood up, running a hand through my hair.
My feet moved before I could think twice, carrying me out of my room and down the hall. I told myself it was just to clear my head. That was a lie.
I stopped outside her door.
It was slightly ajar, light spilling into the dim hallway. That surprised me. Zeraphine
