"Convenient," she murmured, her voice was more resigned than bitter.
Perhaps it was better that nature had offered him an escape this ti. She had seen the way he fought to control himself even on ordinary days, how his sharp instincts made him hyperaware of her.
If he struggled to maintain his composure then, how would he have fared now, with her blood calling to him so strongly?
Salviana shook her head, brushing the thought aside. He wasn’t here, and she could handle this on her own.
Her first strawberry week in the castle had been draining, but it was almost over. Next ti, though, she wouldn’t be so lucky to avoid him.
The corner of her lips lifted into a faint, mischievous smile. Let’s see how you handle it next ti, Vamp Lord
Salviana stretched out her limbs, her body aching for rest. Her mind, however, refused to quiet down.
Between Genevieve’s cold hostility, the chaos of the tea eting, and her lingering thoughts of Alaric, she couldn’t help but feel a growing storm of emotions.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself.
Tomorrow would mark the end of this exhausting week, and maybe—just maybe—things would start to feel a little less overwhelming. For now, all she could do was wait.
~~~{────────
Afernoon.
Bedroom, Salviana’s Chambers, Wyfkeep Castle.
Wyfellon, Wyfn-Garde.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
When was he coming back? She didn’t know for sure. It wasn’t as though people brought souvenirs from battles like they did from the market, but she was waiting for him all the sa.
She could feel the anticipation pressing heavily on her chest. More than anything, she hoped he would return as unscathed as he had left—unwounded, strong, and whole.
Her thoughts drifted to the whispers she’d overheard earlier in the day, from the won who seed to relish gossiping about her marriage.
You shouldn’t let your guard down; he’s a demon, they had said.
But Alaric wasn’t a demon, not in the way they ant. He was a vampire, yes, but that was no reason to fear him.
She shook her head, trying to dispel their words, but they lingered like a faint stain in her mind.
No, she wouldn’t let their poison seep into her heart. She would miss him, crave his presence, his affection, his closeness.
She already is. The ache for him was constant now, growing sharper with every hour he was away.
Closing her eyes, Salviana could picture him perfectly, as though he were standing before her.
That flawlessly sculpted face, sharp and breathtaking. His body, lean and strong, yet strangely unmarred—no scars, no signs of weakness or pain, despite all the battles he had fought.
Even his hands, large and powerful, carried no callouses, as though they were untouched by war.
My husband truly is a vampire, she thought, her lips curling into the faintest smile. He was a warrior in every sense, yet his perfection seed otherworldly, unreal.
With that thought settling in her mind, Salviana shifted in bed, her body relaxing slightly as exhaustion from the long day began to pull her under.
It had been a day full of trials, but tomorrow held the possibility of his return.
She clutched the covers tightly, imagining his strong arms around her once more.
And though she didn’t know when he would return, she whispered softly into the dark, as if the words might sohow reach him, "Co back to ."
Salviana woke abruptly from her nap, her body jolting as if startled by an unseen force. Her legs had been dangling off the edge of the bed, leaving her with an uncomfortable ache in her calves.
She groaned softly, rubbing her eyes before standing. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the curtains.
Without thinking, she moved to her chamber doors and opened them wide.
Her maid, Emma, who seed always ready at a mont’s notice, hurried over.
"Your Grace," Emma said breathlessly, "would you like anything?"
Salviana forced a tired smile. "Water, please. I’m thirsty."
Emma nodded and scurried off while Salviana made her way to the kitchen. It was quiet at this hour, the stillness of the castle almost soothing.
She sat at the long wooden table as theu prepared a simple al for her.
The kitchen staff would clearly soon retire for the evening, but a diligent servant quickly brought out fresh bread, slices of cheese, and a small bowl of fruits alongside a glass of water.
Salviana nibbled on the bread and sipped her water, her appetite still lackluster.
The castle’s silence felt heavy, amplifying the absence of Alaric. Though the solitude was peaceful, it was also a constant reminder of the void his departure had left.
Once she had eaten what little she could manage, Salviana thanked the servant and returned to her chambers.
She moved through her night routine alone with slow, deliberate motions—washing her face, combing through her hair, and slipping into her favorite nightgown.
It was soft and comforting, but it didn’t soothe the restlessness simring inside her.
Her gaze drifted to the book from the Grand Wyfscroll Library. Its elegant binding glinted faintly in the candlelight, almost beckoning her.
Salviana picked it up and carried it to bed, arranging the pillows behind her and lighting a few additional candles for warmth and brightness.
The title, Vamp Lore, stared back at her in bold, embossed letters. As she opened it, the first page greeted her with a chilling introduction:
Welco to Darkness.
The ominous words sent a shiver down her spine, but she couldn’t stop herself from flipping to the next page.
The book began by recounting the origin myths of vampires, their cursed immortality, and their unrivaled strength.
So stories claid they were divine punishnts, while others depicted them as rulers of the night—neither fully human nor entirely monstrous.
Salviana’s heart raced as she read about their instincts and temptations, particularly around blood.
The descriptions reminded her of Alaric’s hesitation to stay near her during her period.
The idea of his primal side unnerved her, but there was also a strange comfort in knowing that he had chosen to distance himself rather than risk hurting her.
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