Married To Darkness Chapter 50: Almost Unreal

Salviana, still wrapped in the cloak, gazed up at her husband, her eyes searching his face for answers she couldn’t voice. His care, his attention—it felt strange, almost unreal. No one had ever treated her like this, like she was sothing fragile, sothing precious.

The weight of his hands earlier, the way he had cradled her in the bath, the tenderness—it unsettled her, yet stirred sothing deep inside.

He had stopped himself, though, right at the point when his fingers had trembled against her skin. She hadn’t missed it.

The way his breath had hitched, his hesitation before drawing back as though he was holding sothing primal at bay. The thought made her stomach flutter.

What was he feeling? And why had he stopped?

She found herself wondering—was she ready for more? The idea of intimacy with him had hovered like a shadow ever since their wedding, but they hadn’t crossed that line yet.

Should I make the first move? she thought, her cheeks flushing with the sudden boldness of the idea. She knew she was supposed to. She had heard stories, gossips, whispers in her holand about the duties of a wife.

But did she really know how to initiate sothing so personal? The thought of it made her anxious, and yet... curious.

Her mind wandered as she stood there, feeling the cloak warm against her skin. She realized she would have to figure this out soon enough.

But how? Maybe I need to read more, or try to rember the gists I’ve overheard about the subject.

The thought brought a small smile to her lips, but it quickly faded as Alaric stepped back, releasing her from his arms.

He let her go into the closet, giving her space, and she quickly dressed for the day. As she slipped into her gown, a soft complint from Alaric reached her ears.

"You look beautiful," he said, and though his voice was steady, there was a hint of warmth in his tone.

She smiled softly, though her mind was far from settled. The gown felt outdated, the style a bit too old-fashioned for her liking. It wasn’t sothing she would have chosen, but she couldn’t say that aloud.

She had learned to adapt. Her eyes skimd the dress she wore, the colors muted and the fabric stiff. It reminded her of how things had changed since she left her holand.

Back ho... I used to have so many dresses, endless arrays of them in every shade and style, she thought wistfully. Silks, velvets, and embroidered pieces that would make any woman proud.

But when her marriage was arranged, her mother had made sure to leave all of her beautiful dresses for her sisters. "You’re a princess now," her mother had said, all too eagerly. "You’ll have new dresses once you’re at the castle."

Salviana had agreed, thinking she would be surrounded by luxury once she beca Alaric’s wife. But that hadn’t been the case.

She had left her holand with almost nothing, her finest gowns abandoned for her sisters, who had claid them without hesitation. And the jewelry she had collected over the years—gifts from the lords and ladies for the futures she painted—were all gone too.

She used to receive such treasures, tokens of appreciation, whenever she foretold soone’s future. It was supposed to have made her wealthy, famous even.

But wealth and recognition had never been in her hands for long. Her family always took what they wanted—her sisters had claid the jewels, and her parents had pocketed the rest.

They’d exploited her abilities for as long as she could rember, keeping her under their control, never letting her benefit from her own talents.

And now, even the few belongings she had been left with were taken from her the mont she got married. "You won’t need those trinkets where you’re going," they had said.

But I’m here now, she reminded herself, gazing at the reflection of the modest dress. A princess. And yet she felt anything but royal.

She sighed softly, running her fingers over the rough material of the gown, her thoughts flickering back to Alaric.

He had complinted her... She wasn’t used to such kindness, not in words or actions.

"Salviana?" His voice brought her back to the present.

"Yes?" She turned, eting his gaze once more. There was a warmth in his eyes now, a subtle flicker of sothing more.

It made her heart skip, and for a brief mont, she let herself believe that things could change—that maybe, just maybe, her life here would be different.

The thought gave her hope, though she still wondered. Why was he holding back? And why did it feel like she was the one who had to take the next step?

But why wasn’t he saying anything after he’d called her?

"Yes?" Salviana responded softly, her heart fluttering in her chest as her husband shifted closer to her. She could feel his presence like a magnetic force, her pulse quickening in anticipation.

Her breath hitched when he leaned in, so near she could feel his breath against her skin. His eyes glimred, dark and deep, as though he was searching for sothing within her.

Alaric lowered his head slightly, and to her surprise, he sniffed her. The intimate action sent an unexpected thrill down her spine, her skin tingling.

She hadn’t been prepared for the way it made her feel. There was a gentleness in his approach, but also sothing possessive, primal.

"You are beautiful," he said quietly, his voice low and velvety. His gaze never left hers, holding her captive. "And I appreciate you." The sincerity in his words made her heart skip a beat, warmth spreading across her chest.

Can he read minds too? Salviana wondered, feeling as if he could see right through her, as if her thoughts weren’t her own but exposed to him. She dared not ask, not now, but the thought lingered.

Did he know she was thinking she wasn’t important? That she wanted more?

Was it written all over her face that she didn’t take his complints wholehearted?

She sighed but suddenly he started to lean into her.