"Your grace,"
The guards acknowledged the couple when they reached the royal hall entrance.
When Salviana and Alaric entered the main hall, the heavy atmosphere was palpable. The round table, usually reserved for the royal family's solemn discussions, was filled with faces twisted in a mixture of anger, fear, and disgust. Everyone was there except the children, their absence noticeable amidst the tension.
Something immediately drew Salviana's attention, Irene, her face was blotched red from crying. She sat at the center, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs while Jennifer, always the peacemaker, tried to comfort her.
Salviana didn't understand what was happening.
The sneers and side glances told Salviana something was gravely wrong, but it wasn't until someone cleared their throat and pointedly glared at her that the full weight of the accusation came down.
"You've been summoned," one of the elders Lawrence Velthorne, the kings brother said, his voice laced with judgment, "because of your actions last night."
Salviana's heart sank. Her actions? She had done nothing but try to endure dinner with grace, despite the subtle jabs thrown her way and the hot water incident that left her burning.
Surely, they couldn't be blaming her for that… right?
Alaric's cold gaze remained on them without a word, he wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Salviana, he knew how summons like this end.
"Madison," someone else said, the tone sharp and accusatory. "Jaron and Irene's daughter. You must remember her? Poor child suffered greatly last night."
No, she didn't remember her.
Alarics gaze darkened.
Salviana's brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could say anything, Irene's sobs grew louder. "She's just a girl! She didn't deserve it—none of us did!" Irene wailed, her words barely coherent through her crying.
"She... What happened to her?" Salviana asked hesitantly, her voice trembling.
Another pointed look was thrown her way. "You know exactly what happened." Christina scowled making Alaric glance at her, she recoiled quickly with pressed lips.
Jennifer, who had been holding Irene, lifted her head and looked at Salviana with sad, accusing eyes. "Hot water was poured on Madison, just like it was poured on you at dinner. Only this time, it wasn't an accident. She's wounded—scarred!"
Salviana's blood ran cold. 'What?'
'Like it was poured on you at dinner?' Alaric mused, he didn't understand what he was hearing, but the conversations kept coming.
"And you," Jaron's voice boomed, filled with anger, "pretended not to be angry last night, didn't you? Oh, you were furious. We all saw it. You kept your composure so well—too well. Only for your demon husband to get revenge on your behalf!" he barked at the ending of his accusation making Alaric step forward. He stood intimidating and silently warning Jaron not to near his wife but he said nothing.
The words were like knives to Salviana, each one cutting deeper than the last. She blinked, utterly stunned. They believed 'she' had sent Alaric to attack Madison in the night. That she had been so consumed by the dinner incident that she sought revenge, not through her own hands, but by wielding her "demon" husband as a weapon.
She glanced at Alaric, "I—no—what?" she stammered, struggling to grasp the absurdity of the accusation. "I didn't... he wasn't even around... I didn't know—"
But her words were drowned by a chorus of murmurs and disapproving glances. They didn't care. They had already made up their minds.
"Look at her," someone whispered. "She's guilty."
"Of course she is. A girl with no place among us, trying to act civil. She thinks we're fools."
Salviana's heart did somersaults in her chest. The room was spinning. Her throat tightened with helpless frustration.
How could they believe such a lie? How could they think she'd ever want harm to come to a child?
And through it all, Alaric remained silent.
He stood next to her, his dark eyes unreadable, his expression impassive. He let them hurl accusations, let them shame her, and said nothing. He didn't defend her, didn't challenge their ridiculous theory. Salviana's chest tightened with a mixture of fear and anger. His silence was deafening, almost complicit.
'Why won't you say anything?' she wanted to scream, but she didn't dare.
Instead, she stood there, the weight of their disgust crushing her, while Alaric stood by, unmoved.
"You have been banned," someone finally declared, "from being at the dining table to dine for a month." and she didn't notice it but Alaric's lips twitched for a second before he returned to his usual calm.
Banned? Salviana mused. But she just joined the family.
The sentence rang out in the room like the final blow. The sneers became more prominent, the looks of disdain sharper.
"You and that demon husband of yours!" came the final sneer, the words like venom.
Salviana's heart pounded in her chest, the humiliation unbearable. She opened her mouth to protest, to say 'something', but before the words could escape, Alaric's cold voice cut through the tension.
"Come on," he said, his tone calm and measured, as though this was all beneath him. "Let's go."
He didn't argue. He didn't object to the ban or the insults. He simply stood and invited her to follow, his face as unreadable as ever.
For a moment, Salviana hesitated. She didn't want to seem weak or feckless. She wanted to fight, to defend herself and make them see how wrong they were. But the steady weight of Alaric's gaze on her told her there was no point.
Not now. Not here. So, with a stiff nod, she followed him, her chest heavy with emotions she couldn't untangle with his gloved palm on her lower back.
As they left the hall, the voices of those seated around the table faded into a distant hum, but their sneers and judgments lingered in the air like a thick, suffocating cloud. Salviana walked beside her husband, her mind reeling from the accusations, her heart aching from the weight of his silence.
And yet, she couldn't help but wonder—was this how it was always going to be?