Madison, The Velthorne child rumored to be so scalded from the hot water and fragile from the wound that she was forbidden from sunlight, and yet, here she was, playing freely.
The thought made Salviana's stomach tighten. Madison was well and strong, she had friends visiting and she could run away from her.
Had they lied to stir fear or distrust? To call Alaric a beast and her evil? She'd felt so guilty she couldn't believe it was all a lie.
She managed a calm nod, pushing down the questions bubbling in her mind. "And you?" she asked with a warm smile. "What's your name?"
The girl beamed. "I'm Sharon, her friend." Her face brightened with pride. "I'm a noble miss, not to worry."
Salviana chuckled softly. "Oh, that doesn't matter to me, dear. I just wanted to say hello." She said with a smile.
Sharon smiled, seeming to relax even more. "Thank you. I should go after Madison now."
"Of course." Salviana gave her a nod and watched as the little girl skipped off to find her friend.
As Sharon's figure faded down the hallway, Salviana lingered, the questions pressing harder now.
Why would they lie about Madison's condition?
What was the purpose of keeping her hidden? She took a slow breath, calming her mind, and continued down the corridor toward her chambers.
Yet even as she resumed her path, her thoughts remained with the small figure that had vanished down the corridor.
They must really hate her to pull such stunts on her.
Or was it Alaric that they hated? But whoever hated Alaric must hate her too because they were a couple now and not to be divided by external hate.
How could they stoop so low and dirty just so they can call him a demon?
Irene had been crying, calling her names and even laying a hand on her all for a lie?!
Salviana felt hurt and disoriented by this, she never knew people could be this viscous.
And somehow she felt Alaric had warned her. Alaric had told her he was waiting to see her meet the people she'd claimed she'd prefer over him out of anger and now look, she is being proved wrong for saying her husband is the only royal she'd dislike.
She didn't even dislike Alaric.
The Alaric she had come to know is not the monster they want him to be.
He even blushes!
She shook her head after a sigh and continued her measured walk.
As Salviana entered her chambers, her gaze softened at the sight of her maids bustling around, their familiar, comforting presence grounding her. Even the maid who had been at the marketplace was now back, arranging fresh linens and adjusting pillows.
One of the maids, noticing Salviana's tired expression, approached gently. "My lady, you seem weary. Would you like some tea while lunch is being set up?"
Salviana gave a small, grateful smile. "No, thank you. I think I'll just lie down for a moment. The walk through the castle was… more eventful than I expected."
The maids exchanged brief, knowing glances. "Of course, my lady," the same maid said. "We'll have lunch ready by the time you wake. Just call if you need anything at all."
"Thank you," Salviana replied, her voice soft. She looked at each of them with gratitude, noting how their presence brought an unexpected calm. "Truly, thank you."
With that, she retreated to her bedroom, her mind whirling with questions about the family she'd married into and the secrets they seemed to keep.
Sighing, she sank into the sheets, letting her eyes close, hoping that a little rest might bring her some clarity.
~~~{─────────
Salviana found herself in a garden so stunningly vibrant it felt surreal.
Every bloom seemed to glow with a lushness as if painted by the morning sun itself, and as she wandered, a familiar figure caught her eye—Alaric, squatting close to a patch of flowers.
She moved toward him, her heart beating with a mixture of curiosity and a warmth she could hardly explain. Just as she reached him, he turned, sensing her presence before she could even tap his shoulder.
"Fiery," he whispered, Alaric's small, rare smile welcomed her, but before she could voice even a greeting, he swept her off her feet in a gentle, fluid motion.
There was something different about him; he wasn't wearing his usual gloves, and she was surprised by the warmth of his hands as they held her close.
She could feel his fingers pressing lightly into her, solid and real, as if the heat of his touch could somehow anchor her in this dreamlike garden.
He walked with her in his arms to a nearby bench nestled beneath the overhanging leaves of a willow tree, their shade casting a gentle dapple over them.
Setting her down, he kept his dark gaze on her, and Salviana, meeting his eyes with her own bright green ones, found herself unable to look away.
He was breathtaking, every line and angle of his face softened in the sunlight, yet his beauty was almost painfully intense.
The sight stirred something deep within her, a mixture of wonder and a blossoming ache, and before she realized it, her hand reached up, fingers trailing through his dark hair.
As if on instinct, Alaric caught her wrist gently, his dark eyes softening further as he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers.
Salviana's heart raced, a quiet smile tugging at her lips, and she felt her cheeks flush as he moved his arm around her waist, pulling her closer on the bench.
"Alaric," she breathed out.
Butterflies erupted in her stomach as he leaned in, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear with such care that her breath hitched.
Every touch was a silent promise, a wordless exchange that felt as if he were unraveling her defenses with nothing more than these gentle gestures.
Then, with steady hands, Alaric held her face, angling her head with an intent that left her breathless.
Leaving her breathless and waiting for himto press into her