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.
"Thank you," Salviana cut in curtly, holding herself together just long enough to be civil. She didn't want to believe any of this, yet the thoughts clung to her mind like shadows.
With a small, sly smirk, Priscilla turned and left, casting one last glance over her shoulder that Salviana, deep in thought, never noticed.
Alone now, Salviana's mind churned with conflicted feelings—worry, curiosity, even a flicker of fear. Who exactly was she married to? She had thought she understood the cold, distant prince whose gaze often felt like it cut through her. But now… was he a stranger, hiding a side of himself no one dared confront?
A part of her yearned to know more, to unravel the mystery that was Alaric. But the rest of her recoiled, wondering if some secrets were best left undiscovered.
~~~{──────────────
Morning.
Alaric's office, Wyfkeep Castle.
Wyf-fellon, Wyfn-Garde.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
In his office, Alaric sat at his polished mahogany desk, stacks of papers arranged neatly before him, but his thoughts were far from work. His mind kept wandering, tracing back to Salviana, as if some unbidden part of him refused to let go of her image. The rich, warm scent she carried lingered in his memory, wrapping around his senses and filling him with an unexpected warmth.
He leaned back, fingers pressed together thoughtfully, as he allowed himself to relive their morning. She had stood so close, her hands moving with gentle, practised grace as she helped him with his attire. Her fingers had brushed over his chest, small gestures yet carrying a weight that settled deep within him. The feel of her thighs in his palms the night before had stirred something in him—a hunger, an almost primal need to be close to her in every way.
It was as though she carried a piece of peace within her, a gentle tranquillity that softened the edges of his thoughts. He closed his eyes briefly, envisioning her again. In his mind, her hair fell over one shoulder as she tilted her head, the soft curve of her mouth turning up in that faint, enigmatic smile he'd seen so rarely but found himself hoping for.
At noon, Benjamin entered the office, the air around him thick with restrained frustration. He glanced around, his gaze finally landing on Alaric, who looked up with an expression of cold indifference.
Benjamin started, his voice sharp, "I sent for you earlier. It's unlike you to ignore an order from the crown."
Alaric leaned back, his gaze unwavering. "Then it's unlike you to come all this way yourself," he replied smoothly, folding his arms. "Is it really that urgent, Benjamin?"
"Yes, it is," Benjamin snapped, his jaw tightening. "With everything going on in the kingdom, I'd expect you, of all people, to at least show some semblance of responsibility."
Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Responsibility? And here I thought I was doing everyone a favor by staying out of the way."
Benjamin's fingers drummed impatiently on the edge of the desk. "You can't just stand aside, Alaric. You're still a prince, whether you like it or not, and your duties don't vanish because you're married now."
"I'm aware of my position," Alaric replied, his voice turning cold. "And I don't need a lecture on it from you."
Benjamin sighed, shaking his head. "Do you even understand how much is at stake right now? Tensions with the neighboring lands are rising, and with the unrest in the countryside, we can't afford any weak points."
Alaric's eyes narrowed, a hint of steel in his gaze. "If you think I'm the weak point, brother, feel free to say it for then you are delusional."
Benjamin's face twisted slightly, a flicker of insecurity flashing in his eyes before he quickly masked it. "I'm not here to question your strength, Alaric. But I need to know you're ready to stand with us, not... drift off with other priorities."
Alaric tilted his head, an almost amused smile on his lips. "Ah, so this isn't about the kingdom—it's about you, isn't it? Afraid you can't handle it alone?"
Benjamin bristled, his voice tight. "This isn't about me. It's about the kingdom. Our family. And keeping our people safe. If you'd put aside your usual… detachment, you'd see that."
Alaric's gaze cooled even further. "I'm always watching, Benjamin. Maybe more than you think."
Benjamin shook his head and left Cooly, the maids and guards running out of teh way for him.
By the afternoon, Alaric found himself drifting once more, recalling the way she'd leaned in, adjusting his collar with such quiet devotion, her focus entirely on him as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. Her fingers had lingered just a bit longer than necessary, smoothing the fabric at his shoulders. It was a small gesture, but it had carried a sense of intimacy that sank deep into his bones.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Alaric felt a strange pull toward someone that went beyond desire or curiosity. It was as though they were two stars circling one another, bound by forces unseen but undeniable. With a soft sigh, he leaned forward, the quiet in his office broken only by the faint ticking of the clock, reminding him of the hours slipping by, hours he would rather spend with her.