'He was a lady's man?'
'Famous amongst girls?'
'A killer?'
Salviana felt unsettled, each revelation about her husband from Priscilla lingering in her mind like shadows that refused to fade. She tried to brush away the discomfort, but it clung to her thoughts, filling her with an uneasy curiosity.
The maids had returned from the marketplace, their laughter echoing faintly down the halls as they busied themselves with their chores. Salviana stood up, glancing around her room, feeling more a stranger in her own quarters than ever before. She needed answers.
Determined, she reached for the bedside table and noticed a pen and paper—likely left by Alaric for her use. A small, unexpected gesture. She carefully folded the paper and tucked it into the pocket of her gown, then swept out of her room.
Upon reaching the foot of the stairs, she found Emma busily attending to some linens. The maid looked up with a start, offering a respectful bow. "My lady, where might you be off to?"
"Does the castle have a library?" Salviana asked, her tone calm but hiding the urgency beneath it.
Emma tilted her head thoughtfully. "Not in the chambers, my lady. The library's up north, beyond the inner courtyard. The guards would be happy to escort you."
At Emma's nod, Salviana gathered the guards stationed nearby, asking them to guide her. They obliged immediately, walking ahead of her in sturdy, dutiful steps, though she sensed their watchful glances and occasional hesitations.
She glanced down her body, her dress—a pale blue silk with silver embroidery—hugged her figure, fitting well but not quite matching her taste. The fabric was heavier than she preferred, but she endured its weight with grace.
As she walked through the castle grounds, her curiosity grew. Maids she passed curtsied deeply, stepping aside in respectful silence as she approached.
A few cast her curious glances before quickly averting their eyes, and she noticed the bustle of carriages pulling in and out of the castle grounds, likely carrying merchants and visitors who seemed almost oblivious to her presence.
With the warm summer air brushing against her face, Salviana followed her guards, but her thoughts wandered to the absent guard—the one Priscilla had hinted at mysteriously.
What had happened to him?
She had felt his absence the night she arrived, his absence just another whisper in the larger, darker mystery that was her husband. Should she ask his colleagues again?
Or perhaps confront Alaric himself?
As they neared the library doors, Salviana hesitated, her resolve hardening. The question gnawed at her, and despite her initial plan to keep silent, she couldn't ignore it any longer. Turning to face the guards, she gathered her composure, her voice steady.
"Excuse me," she began, her gaze lingering on each of them, "I was wondering…what happened to the guard who was here my first night?"
At her question, the guards froze. For the first time, Salviana noticed a flicker of genuine fear in their eyes. They exchanged wary glances, as if searching for silent guidance from each other.
Despite their broad, heavy builds, they seemed to shrink, their resolve weakening under her stare. They shifted uncomfortably, a few beads of sweat trickling down their faces.
"Ah… well, he… he transferred, my lady," one stammered, glancing away quickly.
"Transferred?" Salviana's brow furrowed. She turned her gaze to the next guard, who looked just as uneasy.
"Y-yes," another guard muttered, clearing his throat nervously. "He received… a special assignment."
The last guard, visibly flustered, offered a quick nod. "Indeed, my lady. Very, very… urgent."
Salviana's face paled as she took in their hastily constructed, inconsistent answers. Each excuse seemed as flimsy as the last, their words stumbling over each other in a tangled mess of half-truths and transparent lies. She studied them in silence, her mind racing.
What was happening here?
The guards fell silent under her scrutiny, their discomfort growing by the second. For a fleeting moment, she thought to press them further—but something in their anxious faces warned her to tread carefully.
She drew in a deep breath turned and they resumed their walk with exhilarating sighs behind her.
Lost in thought, she barely noticed as the guards paused ahead, gesturing to a grand door at the end of the corridor.
'The library,' she mused, her eagerness blooming in her eyes.
The library doors opened with a slow, graceful sweep, revealing an expansive space filled with towering bookshelves and large, arched windows that poured in soft, golden light.
Ornate carvings traced each shelf, and the rich scent of old parchment and leather filled the air. Salviana stepped inside, her gaze traveling in awe over the rows of volumes stacked nearly to the ceiling.
The grandeur was overwhelming, each corner of the room decorated in luxury, from plush red carpets to polished mahogany tables adorned with crystal lamps.
'Wow,' she mumbled in awe.
She moved deeper into the room, her fingers brushing over the spines of the books as she passed.
'But-,'
Would a place like this hold dark texts? she wondered, a faint frown crossing her face as she thought of vampire lore and hidden secrets. Just as she was lost in thought, she felt a presence behind her.
She hadn't seen anyone since she stepped in and suddenly feeling someone behind her made her jumpy.
She turned sharply, eyes widening as she found herself face-to-face with a man standing a bit too close.
"Why are you so close?" she mumbled taking several steps back with a frown.
She found she's been frowning too much since she came here.
Her frustrated green lifted to the intruders face and immediately she knew he was one of the Velthornes, a royal of Wyfn-Garde.
He was golden-haired, with striking dark blue eyes and a slim, athletic build that gave him an effortless air of nobility. His lips curved into a smile that was charming yet somehow wrong, like a serpent's grin.
Salviana's heart skipped in fear, but she steadied herself, dipping into a cautious curtsey.
"Your Grace," she greeted him softly, but the way he looked at her made her regret the courtesy almost instantly.