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Afternoon.
Ninth Princess Chambers.
Wyfkeep Castle. Wyfellon, Wyfn-Garde.
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"I have a question," the guards hear their lady say, and they both stood their spines straight and sharp despite their size, she found they looked more interested in the job than they did on her first night.
"Yes, your grace?" one of the guards asked, readying himself for whatever she was about to ask.
She nodded, "They'd been the three of you on my first night here, where's the third one?"
The guard paled immediately and she wondered why, "He… we… your grace─" this guard stammered and fidgeted so bad his second had to cut him off, before he spouted nonsense, "He no longer works here in the castle," the guard said sharply.
"Oh ok," she said quietly as they moved ahead.
They finally stepped out of her chambers corridors and into the grounds, the warm afternoon sun spilt golden light over the castle's courtyards, illuminating Salviana's quiet steps as she moved past corridors, fields, and busy servants.
Her guards followed her silently, although they were supposed to guide her through the castle's labyrinthine halls. She kept her gaze on the surrounding architecture, the quietness of her entourage only intensifying her thoughts.
"Your Grace!" a sharp voice pierced the silence, causing Salviana to wince internally.
'Not the gaunt-gaudy-quack lady-in-waiting,' she inwardly groaned. She turned to face the oncoming woman while forcing a practised smile. "Lady Margaretha," she drawled in greeting.
Margaretha beamed. "Where are you going?" her teeth were all out, as though she couldn't be happier to see Salviana that afternoon.
"To the Ninth Princess's chambers," Salviana answered, the bitterness in her voice barely concealed. The woman was supposed to come in the morning but Salviana appreciated it if she didn't at all. Now there was a full day to spend with her.
"Oh! I'll come along," Margaretha invited herself, her smile too bright for Salviana's liking.
'Come along?!' Salviana laughed nervously. "No, Lady Margaretha," she softened her voice, "you don't have to come along," she advised as if she wasn't the one who needed Margaretha.
"But I must! I am your lady-in-waiting!" Margaretha said, almost scandalized.
Salviana's face fell, her lips pressed in an angry pout and disappointed green eyes fly for the sky, "There goes the face again," Margaretha moaned, obviously not liking the way Salviana wasn't welcoming to her.
So Salviana forced herself to keep her expression composed, biting back the urge to roll her eyes. "Lady Margaretha, please, lead the way," she said with forced politeness. At least the woman's presence might distract from the unease creeping up her spine, especially with her guards acting so wary.
As they moved past the castle's corridors and crossed open courtyards, Salviana sighed, the weather was deceptively pleasant. Birds chirped, and a soft breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers.
Margaretha chatted endlessly, but Salviana barely caught a word. Her thoughts had drifted, wandering through the castle grounds as her eyes skimmed the surroundings.
She wondered where her husband, the dark prince, could be at this moment.
Did he have work somewhere within these walls?
Would she ever see him in action—observe the feared and enigmatic prince handling his responsibilities? A strange thought, but she couldn't help imagining it.
She would love to be in his office someday.
"We're here, smile," Margaretha's voice broke through her reverie as they reached the Ninth Princess's chambers. Salviana blinked, taking in the sight before her. The chamber's entrance was pristine, and the area was immaculately clean and inviting.
'Not like my dark chambers,' she thought with a pang of envy. Her own quarters were dreary, suffocating under layers of gloom. She'd have to do something about that soon, or risk being swallowed by the darkness that seemed to cling to the walls.
As they arrived, a maid rushed forward, clearly startled by their presence. Before she could turn back and announce their arrival, the doors burst open with a fury, and out came Princess Irene, her entourage of maids trailing behind her.
"What are you doing here?!" she shrieked, her eyes alight with venom.
Salviana took a breath, she'd been prepared for anger but she was taken aback by the hostility. "Good afternoon, Princess—"
"Leave this instant," Irene cut her off, her voice low, seething with restrained anger.
Salviana hesitated. "Please, I didn't come to cause trouble," she whispered, her guards keeping a distance, though they remained alert. She couldn't help but feel exposed, like an unwelcome intruder.
The contrast between the two women was striking. Irene stood resplendent in her gown, every inch of her appearance carefully curated to reflect her status. Her dress shimmered with expensive fabrics, intricately embroidered, and her hair adorned with jewels that glittered in the sunlight.
In comparison, Salviana's dress, though elegant, was outdated. The cut and style were old-fashioned, and the fabric, though fine, lacked the opulence of Irene's attire. Salviana's vibrant red hair and youthful beauty couldn't be denied, but the way she was dressed made her appear inferior, almost classless in this high society.
"I only came to express my condolences," Salviana said softly.
Irene narrowed her eyes, her hand fan waving in front of her face dismissively. "I don't want your condolences. Go back to your husband." she bellowed.
Salviana frowned, taken aback by the harshness.
"Irene─" but she cut herself off when Irene took deliberate angry steps forward.
Salviana had only wanted to offer some solace, perhaps even see the child and soothe her if possible. "I'm really sorry," she tried again. "I hope you find the person who did that if it wasn't an accident—"
Before she could finish, Irene's hand flew through the air, landing a sharp slap across Salviana's face. Salviana gasped, surprised to her core.
The force of the slap made Salviana's eyes sting as she instinctively held her cheek, her breath catching in her throat. The pain was not only physical but emotional.
When had her life fallen to this point, where she was treated like an ordinary nuisance?
She was the Divine Lady from the myths, but here, that title seemed worthless.
She was just the wife of the dark prince—feared, but not respected. It was as if being connected to him stripped her of her identity and power.
She swallowed back tears, her pride bruised. Back at home, no one would dare raise a hand against her. But here, she was nothing.
Margaretha, ever the sycophant, rushed to Irene's side, apologizing profusely for Salviana's presence as if she had committed some grave offence. Salviana's heart tightened further. 'So much for loyalty,' she thought bitterly. The betrayal stung worse than the slap.
She took a deep breath, composing herself as best she could, and curtsied. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.
With her head held high, Salviana turned and left, her chest tight with sadness and a fresh wave of self-doubt. She had come to offer peace, and instead, she left humiliated.
As she walked away, Margaretha did not follow, despite her earlier insistence. The lady-in-waiting remained behind, clinging to Irene's side, no doubt trying to ingratiate herself with the princess she deemed more powerful.
'She can stay there forever for all I care,' Salviana thought, biting back the bitterness that rose in her throat. There were other princesses in the castle—surely one of them would be more open to her friendship.
'All hope isn't lost,' she told herself, though it felt like it was.
Maybe she could still be friends with the other princesses, but she remembered how pessimistic Alaric had been about them the first night and how she'd told him he would be the only royal that she'd disliked.