Married To Darkness Chapter 489: Friendship and Authority

"No. Please," she said, voice even, "take another seat. I’ve reserved this one for Florence."

The transformation on Eva’s face was quick and startling. Her beauty faltered; her painted smile stiffened. She leaned in, her tone losing so of its feigned sweetness.

"What?" she whispered, brows lifting. "But she’s not here yet."

Several princesses raised their heads from their cups, interest glinting in their eyes like cats watching birds.

Salviana folded her hands in her lap. Her heart knocked against her ribs, but she made sure her voice held calm authority. "Exactly my point. That is why I reserved it for her."

The answer, so simple and courteous, only seed to fuel Eva’s disbelief.

"You would deny a seat," Eva said, her smile stretching thin. "Over soone absent?"

Salviana tilted her head. "Over a friend." She gave a faint smile, though her pulse was quickening. "Florence is expecting, and this is one of the few chairs with proper handles and cushions. I thought it right she have it when she arrives."

The princesses exchanged looks, so impressed by Salviana’s foresight, others smirking at the rising tension. Salviana wouldn’t know how to argue court with Eva.

Eva’s teeth pressed together, and for a mont the practiced mask nearly cracked. "Not out of malice," she said through a tight smile, "but tell , what is your true reason for wanting to keep this seat? Surely you don’t an to suggest I would be unworthy of it."

Salviana exhaled slowly. She hated when small monts beca scenes, but the woman clearly would not relent. "I an precisely what I said," she answered, her voice soft but unwavering. "The seat is for Florence. And it will remain hers."

A silence spread across the table, broken only by the clink of porcelain as soone nervously adjusted their cup.

Beatrice, eager for drama, leaned forward with an amused grin. "Oh, Eva," she sang, "are you truly quarreling with our dear Salviana over a chair? Surely the great enchantress of the court can sit anywhere and still outshine us all."

A few chuckles rippled, but Eva’s narrowed gaze never left Salviana.

"So of us," Eva said, "have earned respect in this castle. So of us are not rely clinging to a prince’s shadow."

The barb hung in the air.

Salviana’s cheeks burned, but she forced herself to et the woman’s eyes. Her lips trembled only slightly as she spoke. "Respect," she said, steadying her tone, "is shown in small things, Lady Eva. In how we treat friends. In how we honor those who carry new life. I will not apologize for that."

That earned a murmur of approval, especially from the younger princesses.

It was then that Lilian, the forr crown princess, lifted her gaze. She had been sitting quietly, sipping her tea with an expression unreadable as stone. Now she set her cup down with a deliberate click.

"Eva," she said, her voice low but commanding. "Enough. Salviana has spoken with courtesy. A pregnant woman deserves the most comfortable seat, and it was thoughtful of her to reserve it. Show respect to yourself, if nothing else, and choose another chair."

The salon fell utterly still. When Lilian spoke, even the most frivolous of courtiers listened.

Eva’s jaw clenched. She darted a glance around the room, but most eyes were turned away, embarrassed, or quietly nodding in agreent with Salviana. Only Beatrice smirked at her discomfort.

At last, with a stiff breath, Eva forced a laugh. "Very well," she said, trying to reclaim her honeyed tone. "I would not wish to disturb such tender sentint. Let the seat be for Florence. I shall... grace another corner."

Her smile returned, but it was sharp enough to cut glass as she swept away to an empty chair at the far end of the table.

Salviana let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She smoothed her skirts, willing her hands not to tremble. Several princesses leaned closer, whispering warm praise.

"That was well handled," murmured Princess Irene, her eyes glinting.

"Truly," agreed Abigail, though her tone carried more relish for Eva’s defeat than sympathy for Salviana.

Salviana gave them both a faint smile, but her heart softened only when she caught Lilian’s eye. The older woman inclined her head—approval, respect. It was brief, but it ward Salviana more than all the chatter.

She thought, unexpectedly, of her mother then. Of how she might have counseled her to stand firm yet kind, to never let venom shake her grace. A pang of longing pricked her chest, but she smoothed it away with another sip of tea.

The conversation soon flowed again, the clash fading into another ripple of gossip. Eva smiled and played her part at the far end, but her eyes burned with unspoken promises. Salviana ignored them.

The chair at her side remained empty, waiting, reserved—an emblem of loyalty. And when Florence finally arrived, pale but smiling, Salviana was ready with a steady hand and a warm welco.

The others might bring perfus and jewels, or claim superiority in tea leaves and sugar tarts. But Salviana would show her strength in smaller, quieter ways.

Ways that mattered.

anwhile,

The soft rustle of skirts and the gentle creak of the chamber door broke the quiet. Into the Seventh Princess’s chambers stepped Jean Goliath, her lady-in-waiting and dearest companion. She had been gone for two days—two long, unexplained days that had left the chamber strangely hollow without her steady presence.

The air carried a faint perfu of orange blossom from the oils Salviana preferred. The maids, Sarah, Emma, and Thalia, were gathered near the window, folding linens and chattering softly while the late morning light stread in.

When Jean appeared, they gasped almost in unison, dropping their tasks.

"My lady Jean!" Sarah exclaid, eyes wide with surprise. "Where have you been? We thought—well, we feared—"

Emma cut her off with a laugh, though her voice shook slightly. "Feared you had vanished into thin air, just like the ghost stories!" She clasped Jean’s hands and looked her over, as if checking that she was real.

Thalia, the youngest of them, ran forward and embraced her tightly, forgetting her place for a mont. "Two days, my lady, two whole days! Not a word, not a note. We were beside ourselves."

Jean smiled softly, though a shadow of weariness passed across her eyes. She reached out, smoothing Thalia’s hair, before she freed herself gently from the embrace. "Forgive ," she said, her voice low and lodic. "I had matters to attend to... matters I could not speak of."