Zetheal forcefully opened the door of Valerius's study room.
The door slammed against the wall so hard a framed map rattled and crashed sideways. Valerius didn't look up.
He sat behind his obsidian desk, with his pen moving steadily across documents, the ink gliding in clean, merciless strokes. His jaw was relaxed.
His breathing was steady. If anything, he looked irritated that someone had dared interrupt him before he finished signing the document.
Zetheal marched across the floor, her boots stabbing the marble with each step like she meant to crack it open.
Her voice struck the room. "You killed a man because of her?"
Valerius paused mid-stroke. He was choosing whether to acknowledge noise from something too small to threaten him.
Zetheal slapped her palm against his desk. "Look at me!"
Valerius finally lifted his eyes.
His gaze rose from the paper to her face with the unhurried grace of a blade being unsheathed.
Zetheal's breath stuttered, but she pushed through it.
"Himari found the body," she spat. "With the neck snapped like a twig. And rumors are already spreading through the lower guards. They're talking. They're questioning you."
He set the pen down, silently, and calmly.
Zetheal leaned closer, her hair falling messy around her face. "You killed one of our men because of a captive you dragged here days ago? A girl who doesn't belong to our house? Someone who isn't your responsibility? You could've beaten him. Punished him. Exiled him. You didn't have to kill him."
"She was touched," Valerius said.
His voice was flat without emotions, like he was simply speaking about the weather.
Zetheal scoffed. "Touched? He didn't even get to touch her! He only wanted to scare her!"
Valerius's jaw flexed for the first time. Just slightly. "If he wanted to scare her," he said quietly, "then he should have scared someone else."
Zetheal's eyes widened. "You are not making sense. This—" she pointed angrily toward the corpse that no longer existed "was unnecessary, and reckless. Also humiliating. You're the heir of the Draven Syndicate, not some unstable brute snapping necks over a girl who doesn't even—"
Valerius stood. The desk wasn't small, but he made it look like a toy.
The instant he rose, the air in the study shifted so violently it felt like the chandeliers themselves recoiled. His height overshadowed her, and his presence swallowed the oxygen between them.
Zetheal stumbled one step back.
She hated that she did.
He came around the desk. When he stopped in front of her, the space felt carved from ice.
"Finish your sentence," Valerius said, his voice low enough to scrape bone. "Say it."
Zetheal's throat bobbed. "I—I said nothing."
"That's right," Valerius murmured. "You didn't."
Her lips parted, her outrage fighting fear. "Valerius, you're losing your mind over a captive girl you barely know. You've never reacted like this before."
He cut in. Not loudly, but sharply enough to slice the air. "He touched her."
"He did not touch her! He didn't even lay a hand—"
"He raised a hand," Valerius said. "That was enough."
Zetheal stared at him, disbelieving. "You are insane."
"You're risking the loyalty of your men." She yelled again, when he said nothing.
"They know better than to put their hands where they don't belong."
"They're starting to fear you!"
"They should."
Zetheal blinked. "Since when do you care if a girl cries your name?"
Valerius froze.
The crackle of the fireplace popped once, loud in the long, tense silence that followed.
Zetheal's expression shifted. She knew she'd hit something.
"You think we didn't see from the cameras?" she asked quietly, almost triumphantly. "Your walls swallow the sounds, but not your camera. She screamed your name. Your name, Valerius. And you ran like you were summoned."
Valerius's hand curled once. His fingers flexed as though resisting the urge to break something.
"She was terrified," Zetheal pressed on. "She didn't call you because she trusts you. She called the only name she knew in here. And you think that means something?"
He didn't answer.
Zetheal shook her head, stepping closer. "You dragged a girl here. A terrified, soft-spoken thing who doesn't belong in this world. Wild, and unfiltered, but still soft. You shook her entire life apart. And now you're killing your own people because someone got too close?"
Valerius's eyes snapped to hers.
"Zetheal."
She swallowed.
"I won't apologize," she said. "Someone needs to talk sense into you."
"You presume," he said softly, "that sense is something I require."
"You do. Because this is not about her being hurt. This is not justice. You killed a man for a captive, when we should be sending her head to her father. We should force his hand."
Valerius held her gaze. "Leave," he said.
"No."
"Zetheal."
"You're not listening—"
"Leave."
She opened her mouth, ready to go to war again, then a shadow flickered from the doorway.
Both of them turned.
It was Himari.
The head maid stood with her hands clasped, eyes lowered, posture rigid. "Forgive me. I tried to wait, but… the girl collapsed."
Valerius's blood went cold.
Zetheal's fury faltered. "What?"
"She fainted," Himari said softly. "Shock, most likely. And… the bruise on her cheek and shoulder is worsening."
Valerius was gone before she finished the sentence.
Zetheal froze, watching him disappear down the hallway. The echo of his footsteps thundered long after he vanished.
Her heart pounded.
Her anger twisted, becoming uneasy and dangerous.
Zetheal stared at the empty doorway, whispering to herself. "What are you turning into, Valerius? This isn't how we achieve our father's dream."