Salviana laughed, reaching up to gently trace her fingers along his jaw. "You’re terrible at hiding it, my love."
"Am I?" he asked, his lips twitching as though he might smile.
"Terrible," she repeated firmly, but her eyes were warm.
"Fine," he admitted with a playful sigh. "But only because he’s seen you in ways no one else should."
"Like in my gowns?" she teased.
"Exactly," he replied, pulling her close. "But I suppose I’ll forgive him... this ti."
Salviana laughed again, resting her forehead against his. "You’re incorrigible."
"And you’re mine," he said softly before stealing another kiss, their laughter fading into the quiet of the evening.
The ntion of jealousy brought Salviana’s mind back to an earlier mont, a mory that lingered like a faint echo.
It was the day they had taken a walk together, enjoying the crisp air and bustling life of Wyfellon’s streets.
They had encountered the man from Wyfhaven, his concern over Serenity still fresh in her mind.
"Is Serenity a gender-neutral na?" Salviana asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
Alaric turned his head, giving the question so thought. "I don’t think so. Why?"
"So, Serenity is for girls?" she pressed, her voice carrying an edge of curiosity.
"Yes, I believe so," Alaric replied, glancing at her with mild confusion.
Her next question ca swiftly, her tone sharper now. "What’s happening? Why do you ask?"
Salviana didn’t respond imdiately. Instead, she focused on the cobblestone street ahead as they strolled into a nearby snack shop. The scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air, but she was too preoccupied to enjoy it.
"Who is Serenity?" she asked suddenly, her voice soft but laced with sothing unmistakable.
"What?" Alaric turned to her, taken aback by the simplicity of the question paired with her frosty delivery.
"Alaric," she repeated, her green eyes narrowing as she fixed him with a piercing stare. "Who is Serenity that you need to take care of?"
His frown deepened, but he held her gaze. "She’s one of the girls I saved alongside Lucius," he explained evenly. "From so really bad n."
"She’s not soone... soone who’s pregnant for you sowhere or anything like that?" Salviana asked, her voice wavering with a mix of suspicion and sadness.
Alaric stopped in his tracks, his expression darkening as he faced her fully. "No. Why would you think that?"
Salviana hesitated, looking down at the ground before mumbling, "Sarah put the idea in my head. It’s from so new book she’s reading." She shook her head, embarrassed. "That maid of mine talks too much and gives far too many details about the stories she’s into."
Alaric’s initial irritation softened, and he let out a low chuckle. "Was that jealousy you were showcasing just now?"
Salviana crossed her arms, her lips twitching in defiance. "It felt more like a dangerous edge. Like a threat. I think you would’ve been in big trouble if it were true," she said pointedly.
"Stop exaggerating," Alaric teased, stepping closer and taking her hand. "I love you. And you alone."
She t his gaze, her expression softening. "You’d better."
Alaric smirked, leaning in to kiss her temple. "You’re the only fiery soul I need, Salviana. Now, let’s get those pastries before I’m accused of neglecting my wife’s cravings."
A reluctant smile broke across her face, and they continued their stroll, the tension lting away like morning frost.
As evening fell, the dining hall was prepared, the table set with delicacies fit for kings and queens.
Spur and Monica sat at the far end, their posture straight and their movents deliberate, clearly unused to such formality.
Jean, seated beside Salviana, couldn’t help but notice how quickly Monica and Sarah struck up a conversation.
The two maids were chatting animatedly about everything from castle life to the dresses Monica had helped create.
"You’ve worked here long?" Monica asked Sarah, her voice soft but curious.
"Not too long," Sarah replied, smiling. "But it feels like a lifeti already. The princess is kind, and the prince... well, he’s intense but fair. I like it here."
Monica nodded. "Spur always says the third prince is intimidating. Is it true?"
Sarah laughed. "Oh, he can be. But only when he’s focused on sothing. Otherwise, he’s... well, I think he’s just a man who loves his wife."
At the head of the table, Salviana glanced at Jean, her lips quirking in a small smile. "It seems your choice in dressmakers was perfect," she whispered.
Jean blushed, her chest swelling with pride. "Anything for you, my lady."
anwhile, Spur, unable to resist the opportunity, leaned toward Alaric as the prince entered the room. "Your Highness," Spur said, his voice dripping with charm. "Might I say that your wife is the very picture of elegance in my designs? A true vision."
Alaric raised an eyebrow but offered a polite nod. "You’ve done well, Spur. She seems pleased, which is all that matters."
The evening continued with laughter and light conversation, and by the end of it,
Spur and Monica left with full hearts and fuller stomachs, their spirits lifted by the rare honor of dining with royalty.
Salviana, too, felt a rare sense of satisfaction, her preparations for the king’s birthday finally coming together.
~~{────────
~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
Lucius, however, was in his mansion, pacing the dimly lit basent—a place shrouded in eerie silence and mories of his resurrection.
The faint sll of damp stone lingered, and the flickering light from a solitary lantern cast dancing shadows against the walls.
This was where he had been brought back from the dead, and the weight of that mont still lingered in his thoughts.
Curiosity gnawed at him as he approached the old tomb nestled in the corner, the one that held secrets he had avoided for too long.
His fingers brushed against its cold surface, the rough texture sending a chill through him.
A faint engraving caught his eye, and with a deep frown, he bent down to inspect it.
The inscription was barely legible, worn with ti, but he managed to make out the words.
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