A chill crept over her. Could Alaric… could he have…? She shuddered involuntarily, recoiling from the idea. She knew he was different, but this—this was something else. She wanted to dismiss it, to believe it was only a twisted exaggeration, but Priscilla had been here long before she had—long enough to know things Salviana might never uncover on her own.
Needing air, Salviana forced a polite smile. "I'll take lunch now, Priscilla—inform Emma, or just… take a break," she said, her voice brittle.
Salviana fought to keep her face composed, though Priscilla's words filled her with a strange, thrilling unease. "Thank you, Priscilla. I believe that's enough."
Priscilla gave her a mocking little bow, the smile on her lips playful and smug. "As you wish, Princess. But if you ever want to know more… just ask."
"No," Salviana said sharply.
"But—" Priscilla began, as if she hadn't yet exhausted her desire to gossip.
