As Salviana came out of the bedroom, a knock came, guards sent by the Ladies' Court. Her maids fluttered around her, smoothing her dress, adjusting her hair, and fastening delicate jewelry as she tried to calm her nerves.
Despite the lingering apprehension at the sudden call, hope blossomed in her heart. Perhaps they were finally inviting her into their circle. The mere thought brought a quiet joy to her chest, and soon, she was dressed and ready, a small, excited smile gracing her lips.
Entering the court's sitting room, however, Salviana felt her heart sink. The air was thick with tension; cold, judging eyes turned on her as she stepped inside.
Faces she knew from passing greetings now seemed rigid and hostile. She hesitated, almost retreating, but steadied herself, lifting her chin and walking forward. She couldn't show fear—she was Alaric's wife, after all.
In the circle of ladies, Audrey was draped over Lucille's shoulder, tears streaming down her face as her body shook with visible anger. Christina, Agatha, Jollene, Lilian, and the others stood beside her, all whispering, their eyes narrowing as they fixed their gazes on Salviana.
"How could you send your demon of a husband to kill my dogs?!" Audrey's voice lashed out, raw with fury, as her fingers pointed accusingly.
"Just look at her—she's as guilty as they come," sneered Jollene, folding her arms with a glare.
Salviana's eyes widened, the accusation cutting through her like a knife. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself speechless. Before she could gather her thoughts, Lucille joined in, her voice sharp. "You planned this, didn't you? With that monster by your side, you must think you can do as you please."
"Answer us!" shouted Agatha, her eyes blazing with indignation. "Why did you do it? Did you feel powerful, watching those creatures die?"
Salviana's heart shattered with each accusation. Her lips trembled, and her hands curled tightly against her sides as the weight of their words bore down on her. How could they think this of her? She had done nothing but try to find her place, and now they blamed her for something so vicious. Her vision blurred, the shame and anger twisting painfully in her chest.
The room blurred before her as she backed away, feeling small and cornered. Without a word, she turned, her head held high despite the ache in her heart, and left the room. She kept walking, the weight of their judgment pressing heavily on her shoulders with each step.
Once back in the solitude of her chambers, Salviana closed the door behind her, the silence enveloping her like a cold embrace. She sank onto the edge of her bed, the accusations echoing in her mind. A tear slipped down her cheek, quickly followed by another.
She had always known that gaining their acceptance would be difficult, but this? This was far more than she'd anticipated.
Salviana entered her chambers, greeted by the familiar, respectful nods of her maids as they busied themselves around the room.
The faint clinking of dishware signaled that they were preparing lunch, but Salviana felt the weight of her thoughts pressing down, the restlessness from her encounter with the children still lingering.
"I'll be in my room to rest for a while," she murmured softly, giving a polite nod to the maids.
They acknowledged her with understanding smiles, one of them stepping forward to gently offer, "Of course, my lady. We'll have everything ready for lunch by the time you're awake."
Salviana smiled, grateful for their quiet efficiency, before slipping into her bedroom. She sank onto the bed, feeling the cool silk sheets beneath her as she stretched out, allowing herself a rare moment to breathe.
The room was quiet, and slowly, the steady beat of her heart calmed, her mind drifting between the unsettling moments from the castle grounds and the strange mystery surrounding Alaric's reactions.
If he gets triggered this fast why hasn't he done anything to Priscilla yet?
Curling up, she closed her eyes, hoping rest might bring some peace and clarity.
She needed to do something in this place. Anything to keep her busy, reading? painting or gardening.
~~~{─────────────
Afternoon.
Dining Hall, Wyfkeep Castle.
Wyfellon, Wyfn-Garde.
~~~{─────────────
The meeting had ended earlier than Alaric anticipated, allowing him precious time to spend with Salviana. He moved through the corridors, his dark eyes set ahead, his sword still sheathed but menacing at his side, amplifying the quiet dread he carried in his wake.
Servants and guards alike shrank back, failing to notice the unusual lightness in his step; they only saw the formidable, dangerous figure he presented, mistaking his pleasant mood for the calm before another storm.
As he neared their chambers, Salviana appeared on the stairs, descending slowly from the forced nap he'd urged her to take. She paused at the sight of him, her hand resting lightly on the banister as she took him in. How could someone so handsome, so impeccably put together, carry such a volatile rage beneath the surface? she wondered, her thoughts drifting to the events of yesterday. I know he was angry, but… I didn't think he'd actually act on it.
A shiver crept down her spine as she considered the ruthless force that lay beneath his composed exterior. Alaric was more than just her husband; he was a powerful vampire whose reputation loomed heavily over the castle. And while part of her wished he'd show a little restraint—knowing how many already despised and feared him—another part ached with pity. Does he carry all that darkness alone? Is that why he acts with such fury?
As she lingered, torn between caution and sympathy, he met her gaze, narrowing his dark eyes thoughtfully.
"I came to join you for lunch today, wife," he said, his voice low but gentler than usual.
The words startled her from her musings. Her cheeks warmed, and she hurried down the last few steps, reminding herself to act as a wife should. "Welcome," she murmured, still catching her breath as she reached his side. Together, they walked to the dining room, Alaric's hands at his sides, though he cast an occasional glance at the maids—keenly searching, though none dared meet his gaze.
Seated at the table, Alaric watched as Salviana only pushed her food around, her appetite absent. He frowned, irritation flickering in his eyes as he noted the change. She's a woman who eats wholeheartedly, he thought, almost bewildered by her reluctance. What's keeping her from her usual self?