Meanwhile, earlier.
In the dimly lit maid quarters, a dozen women sat huddled together in the modest room, the soft glow of candlelight casting long shadows on the stone walls. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, but it wasn't the warmth of the flames that kept them there—it was the gossip.
"She's not like the others, you know," one of the younger maids whispered, her voice carrying a conspiratorial edge. "The new princess, Salviana. She doesn't act like royalty. I saw her in the market today, laughing like any common girl."
"Laughing?" another maid, older and more skeptical, raised an eyebrow. "What could she have to laugh about? Married off to that demon of a prince? There's nothing funny about it."
Emma, the strict but quiet one, sat in the corner, listening but not partaking. Her eyes were sharp, but she kept her lips pressed tightly together. She was the kind who never indulged in loose talk, but her silence spoke volumes to the others—she knew more than she let on.
Priscilla, the hateful one who often pretended to be sweet, leaned in closer, her tone sugary but with a venomous undertone. "Oh, but she's a sight, isn't she? Walking around like she's better than the rest of us just because she's pretty. I heard Prince Alaric didn't even want her in the first place."
"Really?" one of the maids asked, her voice full of curiosity. "But I saw them together. He looked… attentive. Not like how the rumors say he usually is."
"That's just for show," Priscilla said, a sly smile on her face. "You know how it is with royals. Always pretending."
The others nodded in agreement, but one of the maids, a younger girl named Clara, couldn't help but speak up. "I don't know. She seemed kind when I helped with her bath. She thanked me, even smiled. Royals don't usually do that."
Priscilla scoffed. "That's what they want you to think. She's playing the long game, I bet. Trying to win everyone over."
Across the room, a few of the maids had moved on from the talk of Salviana to more mundane gossip. They whispered about the handsome guards who patrolled the royal chambers. "Did you see Markus today?" one of them giggled. "He smiled at me when I brought him his meal."
"You're imagining things, Eliza," the other maid teased, rolling her eyes. "He probably just had something in his teeth."
The room filled with soft laughter, but the topic soon circled back to Salviana. One of the quieter maids, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up. "Do you think she's scared? Being married to someone like him? I mean, I've seen the way the prince looks sometimes… like there's something darker inside him."
The room fell quiet for a moment. Even Priscilla paused, as if weighing the question.
"I'd be terrified," another maid admitted, her voice low. "But what can she do? She's stuck now."
Emma, who had remained silent all this time, finally stood up. "Enough," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "We don't know what goes on behind closed doors, and it's not our place to speculate."
Priscilla shot her a dark look, but said nothing. The other maids, sensing the shift in mood, began to disperse, their whispers fading into the background. Emma, ever the professional, left the room quietly, but not before casting one last glance at Priscilla, a subtle warning in her gaze. The room grew still as the heavy wooden door creaked closed behind Emma, leaving the remaining maids in an uneasy silence.
Priscilla smirked, clearly unaffected by Emma's disapproval. She straightened her skirts and leaned back, her eyes glittering with mischief. "Oh, don't mind her. She thinks because she keeps her nose clean, she's better than the rest of us."
Clara, still mulling over her brief interaction with Salviana, hesitated. "But do you really think the prince doesn't want her? I saw the way he looked at her during dinner last night… it didn't seem cold to me."
Priscilla gave a dramatic sigh, flicking a loose curl behind her ear. "You're too naive, Clara. Royals don't 'look' at their wives like we think they do. It's all duty and politics. If Alaric's paying her any attention, it's because he has to."
One of the other maids, a stout woman named Agnes, shifted uncomfortably on her stool. "Maybe she's better off not knowing what really goes on with him," she muttered, half to herself.
Eliza, the one who had been giggling about the guards, perked up. "What do you mean, Agnes?"
Agnes hesitated, her fingers picking at the hem of her apron. "It's just… I've heard things. About the prince. Dark things. There's a reason they call him a demon. Some of the guards talk when they think no one's listening. They say he's dangerous."
The maids exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier laughter now completely stifled by Agnes's words.
Clara frowned. "But Salviana seems happy. I mean, she smiles at everyone."
Priscilla laughed sharply. "Of course she does. She doesn't know any better. She's probably just relieved to be away from her old life."
The fire crackled loudly in the hearth, filling the silence that followed. Despite the flickering warmth, a chill seemed to settle over the room.
Eliza broke the tension, her voice softer now. "Well, whatever the truth is, I hope she's careful. I wouldn't want to be in her shoes, not with all the rumors about that family."
"None of us would," Priscilla agreed, her tone dropping to a whisper. "But don't think for a second she's innocent in all this. No one who marries into that family is."
The group fell into a tense silence again, the weight of unspoken fears hanging heavily in the room.
Even Emma's usual sharpness seemed muted, as if the gravity of the conversation had finally caught up to her.
Outside, the wind howled softly against the stone walls, a reminder of the world beyond the royal chambers and the secrets that lay within.