As he laid her down gently on a cot, the healer, a wizened woman with a knowing gaze, looked at him with a mix of curiosity and caution. "Another one from the inn, is she?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur.
Alaric only nodded. "Yes," he said, his tone flat. "See that she's well cared for."
The healer's eyes narrowed. "You know, I've seen enough to know what you are. Yet you keep coming here, bringing these poor souls."
Alaric met her gaze without flinching. "I may be a vampire," he said, "but that does not mean I lack standards. This city is infested with darkness—I simply choose to clean up the filth when it serves me."
The healer regarded him in silence for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Very well. I'll see to her."
Alaric took a step back, his gaze lingering on the girl as she lay motionless, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His fingers twitched with the residual hunger left unsated, but he ignored it, tightening his gloves instead.
As he turned to leave, he felt a strange pang of guilt tugging at him—an unwelcome reminder of the humanity he had tried to bury long ago. The healer's voice followed him as he reached the door. "You can't outrun the beast forever, Alaric. Eventually, you'll have to choose—who you are, or who you pretend to be."
Whatever the fuck was this man spouting? Could he kill him too one day?
He paused, the words hanging heavy in the air, then continued walking without a backward glance. Outside, the chill of the night pressed against his skin as he vanished into the night. In a blur of movement, Alaric cut through the deserted streets, his speed turning him into a fleeting shadow against the moonlit alleys.
The cold wind brushed his face and tugged at his hair, blending with the cries of nocturnal animals echoing through the dark.
He reached the castle swiftly, the familiar grand stone looming above him as he crossed through the silent courtyard and slipped down the winding halls to his chambers. As he approached, he saw his friend and loyal guard, Richard, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, his stance impatient.
Richard lifted himself off the wall with a grumble as Alaric approached. "I'm not a watchdog, you know. You took your time," he muttered, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance. Alaric met his friend's eyes, completely unfazed.
"Yes, you're a human guard," Alaric retorted dryly, taking long strides until he stood face-to-face with Richard. He could see the question lingering in the man's gaze, a spark of curiosity that, though held back, still seeped through.
Richard rolled his eyes, glancing briefly at the door to Alaric's chambers where his wife, Salviana, slept. "What could possibly happen to her from inside? You're the one who insists I stay here every time you vanish into the night."
Alaric's eyes flickered, his expression unreadable. "Just shut up and go to sleep," he shot back, brushing past Richard and opening the door with the faintest smirk. Richard sighed, shaking his head as he turned to leave, still plagued by the mysteries of Alaric's nighttime escapades.
In all his years of serving the prince, Richard had learned not to ask questions. Alaric was guarded, an enigma cloaked in an air of calm that hid something much darker. Richard understood well enough that Alaric's composure was a thin shell, easily shattered if someone were reckless enough to challenge him.
But tonight, he chose to let it go, muttering to himself as he walked away, "I might not know what you're up to, Alaric, but I'd bet it's nothing a mere guard could ever hope to understand."
And with that, Richard disappeared down the corridor, leaving Alaric alone to slip quietly into his chambers.
~~~{────────────
This Morning.
Wyfkeep Castle, Wyfellon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
As Salviana continued her walk, she breathed in the fresh air and felt a small sense of freedom that had been so rare in her life recently.
The castle grounds were grand and sprawling, with ornate statues and elegantly trimmed hedges lining the pathways.
Her fingers brushed lightly against the flowers as she walked, grounding herself in their soft petals.
Lost in thought, she was startled when one of the guards quietly addressed her. "My lady, would you like to visit the eastern gardens? They're known to be the most peaceful."
Salviana looked up, meeting the guard's polite gaze, and gave a gentle nod. "Yes, I think that would be lovely." She appreciated their silent, respectful presence.
As she approached the eastern gardens, she noticed fewer people. The air was fragrant with jasmine, and a canopy of vines created a serene shade over the benches.
Salviana found a secluded spot and took a seat, closing her eyes briefly to savor the peace.
Her mind drifted back to Alaric, to their recent moments together, and to the peculiar encounters she'd had with Lady Rose and Margaretha.
Rose's prying questions and overly agreeable nature weighed on her, but Salviana forced herself to put them aside for now, choosing to focus on the quiet beauty of the gardens around her.
Here, at least, she could find a moment's reprieve from the pressures of her new position which she hasn't felt like she'd started her duties but she definitely feels the hate of being a princess.
~~~{────────────
Afternoon. Present.
The Goliath Estate.
Wyfellon, Wyfn-Garde.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
Alaric stepped down from the carriage, the creak of the wheels and the sharp click of his boots breaking the quiet outside the estate. His face wore a look of reluctant impatience, his brows drawn together in a scowl. "What exactly am I doing here?" he murmured under his breath.
"Wait," Lucius's voice sounded in his mind, low and restrained, as if anyone besides Alaric could hear him.
Around them, guards and maids darted through the courtyard, stealing glances at the royal carriage before hurriedly calling for their master. A few moments later, the lord of the estate burst through the doors, his face flushed and sweating.
"Your Grace!" he gasped, recognizing Alaric immediately.
"They know me?" Alaric thought with a raised brow, questioning Lucius mentally.