The window finally gave way with a loud creak, releasing a rush of dust and stale air.
Salviana coughed, montarily losing her footing, but she caught herself before she could fall.
She straightened, brushing off the mont of weakness as if nothing had happened—no squeal, no hesitation.
Leaning forward, she pressed her face to the opening, inhaling the crisp night air. It wasn’t freedom, not yet.
An iron burglary barred her from slipping through, but at least she had this.
Fresh air.
She breathed in deeply, calming her nerves, gathering her strength.
The cool breeze felt like a lifeline, a reminder that the world outside still existed. That Alaric was still out there, searching for her.
Her fingers instinctively reached for her hair, twisting the loose red strands into a tight bun once more. A warrior’s preparation. She needed to be ready.
I just need to last till morning, she told herself.
And then, once her lungs were full and her voice steady, she would scream.
But she underestimated the power of sleep.
How it could make one cross to that place of half living half dead.
No matter what one was going through sleep pretends it knows nothing and whispers you into its world through forces nature provides.
This ti it was the wind.
Exhaustion crept up on her like a silent predator, weaving itself into her aching limbs and fogging her thoughts.
The rush of fresh air had given her a mont of clarity, a fleeting surge of hope—but now, with the adrenaline fading, the weight of her ordeal settled over her like a heavy cloak.
Her head throbbed where she had been struck, a dull and insistent pain that pulsed with every heartbeat.
Her body, sore and bruised, ached for rest.
She wanted to fight it—to stay alert, to scream for help as she had planned—but her eyes grew heavier with each passing second.
She slumped against the wall beneath the window, her breaths slowing. Just a mont, she told herself. Just until her strength returned.
But sleep was rciless. It pulled her under before she could resist, and in the darkness of her dreams, the fear remained.
~~{────────
~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
The castle gates had never seen such chaos.
Under the silver glow of the moon, a procession of noble carriages lined the cobbled road outside, their occupants growing restless.
The birthday celebration, once a grand affair of music, laughter, and indulgence, had ended in an unexpected nightmare—a missing princess and a furious prince who had upended the evening with a full-blown search.
"How much longer must we wait?" a man in fine velvet robes grumbled from the window of his carriage, rubbing his tired eyes. "We’ve already been searched! My wife is nearly asleep, and my children are shivering in the cold!"
"Perhaps you should have left them ho," snapped another nobleman, arms crossed as he stood outside his own carriage. "A royal affair is no place for children, especially one hosting the likes of demons and witches."
"Watch your mouth," a woman in a midnight-blue gown interjected, flipping her silk fan open with a snap.
"You may not care for them, but I, for one, find Prince Alaric’s devotion utterly swoon-worthy. Imagine a man who would turn a kingdom upside down just to find his wife. If only my husband would look at that way." She shot a pointed glare at the plump, bored-looking man beside her.
"Please," another woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. "He’s not searching for her out of love. She’s a witch, and she’s important to his power. He’s protecting his claim, nothing more."
"But still!" another young lady, bright-eyed and giddy from too much wine, chid in. "Have you seen the way he looks at her? Like she’s the only one in the room? I’d give anything for a man that obsessed with ."
Her words earned an annoyed snort from an older nobleman. "Obsessed? It’s madness, is what it is. This whole search—humiliating! What kind of prince detains his guests like common thieves?"
A few voices murmured in agreent.
"I heard the princess left on her own," one gossipy courtier whispered to her companion. "Perhaps she finally had enough of being married to a demon."
"Or," another interjected darkly, "perhaps soone made sure she wouldn’t be found."
A hush spread through the group, the possibility settling uncomfortably in the air.
anwhile, further down the road, a few of the younger nobles huddled near a carriage, speaking in hushed, urgent tones.
"This is bad," one muttered. "If sothing truly happened to her inside the castle, what does that an for the rest of us? If Alaric suspects foul play, there will be bloodshed before sunrise."
"Let him search," another whispered back. "At least then we’ll be free to go without worry."
A sharp gust of wind swept through the crowd, rustling silks and fur-lined cloaks.
The moon above was bright and high, casting eerie shadows on the restless nobles.
So rubbed their hands together for warmth, others yawned from exhaustion.
A few had given up entirely, reclining inside their carriages with drooping eyelids, waiting for the final order to leave.
But no such order ca.
Inside the castle, the search continued. Outside, the uncertainty grew.
And sowhere within the stone walls, in the depths of the castle where no one had yet looked, Salviana lay unconscious, unaware that the world above was already spinning with rumors of her disappearance.
anwhile,
Alaric’s heart thundered like a war drum as he stord through the castle halls, his voice raw from shouting Salviana’s na into every dark corner, behind every closed door, and through every silent corridor.
His silver-threaded cloak billowed behind him, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
Servants flinched at his approach, and guards scrambled to keep up, but none dared et his burning gaze.
He had searched the guests, searched their carriages, barked orders at his n — but nothing. She was still gone.
The rage boiling in his chest threatened to drown him. How could he have let this happen? How had soone dared take his wife from under his very nose?
"Search again,"
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