When Roxy woke the next morning, the space beside her in the massive, crimson-draped bed was completely empty and bone-chillingly cold. Kaelen had not slept in the master bedroom last night.

He had simply established his boundary and removed his presence, leaving Roxy to stare at the empty pillows with a hollow, aching confusion settling deep into her chest.

When she finally descended the grand staircase later that morning, the atmosphere in the Manor was incredibly tense.

Kaelen was already awake and was sitting at the heavy mahogany table in the central parlor, meticulously cleaning his claws. His posture was perfectly straight, his icy blue eyes were completely focused on the steel blade.

Roxy gulped.

"Good morning, Kaelen," Roxy murmured softly, adjusting her hold on Little Fedor as she walked past him toward the kitchens.

"Good morning, Matriarch," Kaelen replied instantly.

The title hit her like a physical blow to the stomach. Not Roxy. Not my Queen. Not my wife. Matriarch. It was the formal, distant title others used for business.

He didn’t look up. He didn’t reach out to gently stroke her lower back as she passed, and he didn’t offer a warm, devoted smile to the Kitsune infant in her arms.

He performed his duties as the King of the North perfectly, securing the perimeter and managing the children, but he entirely withheld his emotional warmth.

It drove Roxy absolutely crazy.

By mid-afternoon, the suffocating emotional distance had become unbearable. Unable to stand the sight of Kaelen respectfully ignoring her in the grand hall, Roxy retreated to Syris’s room.

She pushed open the doors and stepped into Syris’s chambers. The room was well illuminated now and heavily scented with swamp. Syris was currently sitting upright against the headboard, his massive emerald tail loosely coiled at the foot of the ruined bed. He was idly reading an ancient, leather-bound tome, looking completely relaxed and thoroughly sated.

Roxy completely bypassed pleasantries. She marched directly over to the bed, dropping onto the edge of the mattress with a heavy, dramatic huff.

"He is ignoring me," Roxy complained loudly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the far wall. "Kaelen didn’t even sleep in the master bedroom last night, Syris. He called me Matriarch this morning. He is treating me like a stranger instead of his wife."

Syris didn’t even look up from his book. A slow, incredibly smug, and entirely mocking smile stretched across his elegant, sharp features.

"How tragic," Syris drawled lazily, his rich voice dripping with ancient sarcasm. He slowly turned a page of his tome. "The great Matriarch is suffering the consequences of her own unyielding stubbornness. The horror."

Roxy whipped her head around, her green eyes flashing. "Whose side are you on? I didn’t even do anything wrong! I just said I needed to go to the Fox Kingdom to find the human diary. It’s an incredibly important mission to stop Abaddon, and Kaelen just flat-out told me no like I was a misbehaving pup!"

Syris finally lowered the heavy tome, letting it rest on his scaled lap. His vibrant golden-green eyes locked onto her. The playful mockery slowly faded, replaced by a profound, ancient intelligence that saw straight through her transmigrated bravado.

"Roxy," Syris began gently, though the underlying truth in his words was razor-sharp. "You operate under the assumption that your Alpha Kings yield to you because you are inherently right. We do not. We yield to you because we love you, and because your happiness is the absolute core of our existence."

Roxy frowned, her defensive posture faltering slightly. "So?"

"So," Syris continued, leaning forward slightly. "A Matriarch who demands absolute obedience but completely ignores the desperate, terrified boundaries of her own Warlords is not a Queen, Roxann. She is just a tyrant."

Roxy felt pointed at. The accusation stung, a sharp prick of uncomfortable reality piercing her pride.

"I am not a tyrant!" Roxy argued, her voice cracking slightly. "I am just trying to protect our family! The diary—"

"The diary is gathering dust in a dead kingdom," Syris interrupted smoothly, shrugging his broad shoulders. He picked his book back up, entirely dismissing her outrage. "Kaelen is not challenging your authority, Matriarch. He is terrified that your relentless drive is going to break your soul before the Demon King even sets foot on this continent. If you cannot see that, then you are truly blind."

Roxy opened her mouth to argue, but the words completely died in her throat. She stared at the smug Snake King, her anger slowly giving way to a heavy, twisting knot of confusion and doubt. She stood up abruptly and marched out of the room without another word.

That night, the heavy silence of the Manor felt entirely suffocating.

Zarek and Torian were patrolling the outer borders, giving the strained couple a wide berth. Roxy lay alone in the massive master bedroom, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. Her pride refused to let her simply back down. The diary was important. She needed answers.

If Kaelen wouldn’t let her leave through the front gates, she would just have to sneak out.

Waiting until the Manor was completely silent, Roxy slipped out of bed. She dressed quickly in dark leathers and a heavy winter cloak, strapping a small pack of supplies over her shoulder. She knew the perimeter guards heavily monitored the main roads. Her only chance was the hidden, treacherous route behind the Manor, the narrow mountain path that wound directly past the steaming, magical hot springs where Caspian usually swam.

Roxy crept silently down the back stairwell, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She pushed open the heavy wooden rear door, the freezing winter wind instantly biting at her cheeks.

She hurried across the frosted grass, keeping to the deep shadows of the Iron-Wood pines. The steam from the hot springs was already visible in the moonlight, rising in thick, white plumes against the dark mountain rock.

Roxy stepped onto the narrow, rocky path, her boots crunching softly on the frost.

"I told you the answer was no."

Roxy violently gasped, stumbling backward.

Standing dead center on the narrow path, completely blocking her route, was Kaelen.

He wore simple dark trousers and a loose linen shirt that billowed slightly in the freezing wind. He didn’t look angry. He just looked incredibly, agonizingly tired.

"Kaelen," Roxy breathed, her soul instantly flooding with a cold wave of guilt. "How did you know?"

"I know the layout of this mountain better than I know my own heartbeat," Kaelen replied, his voice a low, rough whisper that carried over the rushing sound of the nearby spring. "And I know how stubborn my wife is."

Roxy swallowed hard, her fingers tightening on the straps of her pack. "Kaelen, please. You have to let me go. The diary—"

"The diary is an excuse," Kaelen cut her off, taking a slow, heavy step forward. His icy blue eyes were completely dark, filled with a raw, desperate vulnerability she had never seen before. "You are running, Roxy."

"I am not running!" Roxy protested, her voice rising in defense.

"You are," Kaelen insisted, stopping just a few feet away from her. " You are terrified of the quiet. You are terrified of sitting still and waiting for the inevitable to strike, so you are violently pushing your body toward a mission that you are entirely unfit for right now, just to feel like you are in control."

Roxy stared at him, her defensive anger violently shattering into a million pieces.

Kaelen didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t assert his Alpha dominance. He just looked down at her, his broad shoulders slumping slightly as the absolute terror in his soul finally bled through his icy facade.

"Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to love you?" Kaelen whispered, his voice cracking with a profound, agonizing honesty. "I watch you push yourself to the absolute brink of destruction. You challenge gods, and you treat our absolute devotion as a shield to justify your recklessness. I am not trying to cage you, Roxy. I am trying to keep you alive."

Roxy looked down at her heavy boots, a sudden, hot tear spilling over her eyelashes and freezing instantly on her cheek. The heavy supply pack slipped from her shoulder, hitting the frosted rock with a dull thud.

She couldn’t say a single word.

Without looking back up at Kaelen, Roxy slowly turned around. She left the pack on the ground and began the long, agonizingly silent walk back toward the rear doors of the Manor.

Kaelen did not follow her. He remained standing on the dark path, his icy blue eyes watching her retreat, the physical distance between them reflecting the massive emotional chasm she had just violently exposed.

Roxy slipped back into the quiet, dark halls of the Manor and slowly climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. She closed the door, the click of the latch sounding incredibly loud in the empty room.

She sank down onto the edge of the cold, empty mattress, burying her face in her trembling hands.

"I don’t think I know how this marriage thing works anymore," Roxy whispered brokenly into the dark, empty room. "I am such a bad person."