As their faces neared, Alaric's dark eyes searched hers for a moment, and then, with the faintest hint of a smirk, he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.
Salviana's eyelids fluttered closed, anticipation coiling within her, every nerve alive as his face neared hers. Just as his lips brushed hers, a featherlight touch that hinted at something profound—
She woke, her chest rising sharply as she took in a deep, disoriented breath, her eyes adjusting to the ceiling above.
The silence of her chamber grounded her, though her heart continued to race with the memory of the dream's intensity.
For a long moment, she lay still, her hand drifting to her lips, a question echoing in her mind.
'What would it feel like to truly kiss Alaric?'
Would his lips be as soft and warm as she imagined, or perhaps cool and addictively intoxicating?
Would it be like the sweetness of cake, rich and inviting, but even more thrilling?
"Ughh," she groaned, pressing her face into her pillow, a mix of frustration and longing clouding her thoughts.
That kiss, the promise of it, lingered in her like an unanswered melody.
As she lied on the bed gathering her thoughts and feelings, Salviana's memory jolted, the image of the flowers from the day before suddenly vivid in her mind.
A boy had handed them to her, a simple, sweet gesture that had touched her heart. She had intended to place them somewhere special, but with the events of yesterday and the exhaustion that followed, she'd completely forgotten
Without hesitating, she hurried back downstairs, where her maids were quietly preparing the room. Her voice was firm but laced with curiosity. "The flowers I received yesterday—where are they?"
The maids exchanged glances. Sarah, paled, while Priscilla's lips curved in a slight smirk, as though hiding amusement. Salviana's frown deepened, her patience waning.
"Where are the flowers? I must've handed it to one of you," she held each and every one of their gazes but they remained quiet and soon their silence bothered on disrespectful.
"Surely they weren't discarded," Salviana said, her voice cooling.
Emma walked in just then and she heard Saliviana snap, "As the seventh princess and your lady, I ask again—where are the flowers from last evening?"
Silence stretched before Emma, one of the steadier maids, finally spoke. "My lady, the third prince… he took the flowers as he left your chambers. We haven't seen them since."
Salviana's brow furrowed, her thoughts drifting to Alaric.
What would he have done with them? She nodded slowly, letting the information sink in, then turned to head back upstairs, her mind spinning with unanswered questions.
As she ascended, she heard Emma's voice calling after her gently. "My lady, do you wish to eat now?"
"No," Salviana replied simply, she still missed her bed.
"Alright, we'll come to prepare you for dinner shortly." Emma replied as though she didn't accept the rejection her lady tendered. She was thinking for the best of the princess.
Salviana paused. "Dinner?"
"Yes, my lady, you slept for quite a while," Emma reported with a small smile.
"It's dark already, I didn't know," Salviana confessed after looking out through the window, she hadn't even noticed before.
"You were exhausted my lady, it's understandable," Emma said.
"Thank you," Salviana replied, her tone distracted, her mind focused on the mystery of Alaric and the missing flowers
~~~{─────────
Evening.
Throne Hall, Wyfkeep Castel.
Wyfellon, Wyfn-Garde.
~~~{─────────
The grand throne hall had transformed into a makeshift war room as Alaric took his place at the long table, joining the kingdom's top officials, royal princes, and knights who were fiercely devoted to the protection of their lands.
The air was tense, heavy with unspoken fears and rising anxieties as maps lay sprawled across the table, marked with red ink where their borders met the edges of the known enemy territories.
"I think we should confirm things first─" a new offical lord started but the glares he recieved from most of the others around the table but him up quickly.
Lord Edric, the head of the council, slammed his fist on the table, his face red with frustration.
"Our spies report whispers of foreign armies gathering at the edge of our borders. We've long known our enemies to bide their time, yet this—this is a call for decisive action! If we sit idle, we'll be caught unprepared."
A murmur spread among the men around the table, each voice adding to the cacophony of suggestions and warnings.
Alaric sat back, quietly observing the heated debate as it unfolded. He saw how some of the younger princes, brimming with fervor, pushed for immediate retaliation.
Meanwhile, older officials urged caution, calling for measured diplomacy and a strengthening of border defenses.
Crown Prince Benjamin leaned forward, his tone controlled but intense. "If we respond too brashly, we risk provoking an all-out war. The realm cannot afford such a cost. Yet if we do nothing, the enemy will sense weakness." he glanced at the head of the council, "What would you have us do, Edric? You can't push for aggression without a plan in place."
Edric scowled but said nothing in reply. Alaric's eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on the subtle power plays across the table.
He noticed how certain officials supported Benjamin openly while others leaned toward Edric's call for action.
A knight stood up from his seat and started to explain some areas in their kingdom that had possible leaks and could be easily penetrated as they were weak on that side.
The knight marked the dangerous side red while the safe and stronger parts were marked green, somehow the castle was yellow.
Seeing all these colours, Alaric's mind wandered briefly, picturing his wife, Salviana's fiery green eyes and the way her red hair flared with passion when she was determined.
His thoughts warmed and he almost smiled at the memory, but he quickly returned his focus to the room, his gaze drifting to the king, who had remained silent, watching the discussion with a deepening frown.
The old man would rather be in his chambers with his concubines, Alaric was sure