"Salviana you don't see the future, you're a crook but you bring in money so we'd keep you," Salviana's sisters voice rang in her head as she stood outside.
It's been awhile since she get thoughts like this, flashbacks of how insignificant her sisters tried to make her feel.
She had refused to glimpse the fiture since she came to the castle but now that everyone has returned except her husband she wished she had.
What is happening?
Soon rain started to fall.
The courtyard was silent now, save for the faint patter of raindrops against stone, a soft warning of the storm that had been brewing all evening.
Salviana stood resolute near the gates, her emerald dress now streaked with dust from her earlier dash.
The air was cool, the kind that settled deep into one's bones, but she felt nothing but the ache in her chest.
He was a vampire, the strongest man I know. My Alaric. He cherishes me. He will come back.
The thought repeated like a mantra, each word a fragile thread holding her together. Her heart was pounding, her mind an endless churn of hope and fear.
"Lady Salviana," Sarah, called gently from behind her, stepping cautiously into the courtyard. "Please, come inside. The rain is starting, and the others are already gathered. You'll catch a chill."
Salviana didn't move, her gaze fixed firmly on the gates as if her very will could summon her husband through them. "Go inside, Sarah," she said quietly, her voice calm yet unyielding. "I'm not leaving this spot."
Sarah hesitated, wringing her hands. "But my lady—"
"No."
The word came sharper this time, cutting through the growing patter of the rain. Sarah glanced back toward the castle, where Emma stood anxiously in the doorway, before retreating.
Moments later, Emma herself approached, her face drawn with worry.
"Lady Salviana," Emma said softly but firmly. "The storm is upon us. You must come in."
Salviana turned her head slightly, her face illuminated by a flash of lightning. Her expression was resolute, her jaw set. "No, Emma," she said. "I'm not going anywhere. I will only go inside when my husband returns to take me there himself."
Emma opened her mouth to argue but stopped at the sheer determination in Salviana's eyes. "Very well, my lady," she murmured reluctantly. "But please, at least let me fetch you a cloak."
"Go," Salviana ordered gently, yet firmly. "Both of you. Leave me. This is my place until he comes back."
The maids exchanged worried glances but obeyed, retreating toward the castle, their footsteps fading into the growing storm.
The rain fell more steadily now, droplets landing softly at first and then with increasing force, drenching Salviana's hair and dress.
She closed her eyes for a moment, the chill of the rain biting into her skin, but she didn't flinch.
He will be here. He has to be here.
Her hands trembled as she clutched the folds of her gown, but her resolve did not waver. Her heart felt hollow, as though some vital part of her had been torn away.
She couldn't bear to think of a life without him. She didn't want to face the cold, cruel eyes of the royal family, their whispered disdain, their veiled pity.
I can't be alone here. Not without him. I don't want to be a widow.
Her chest ached at the thought, her breaths coming shallow as she struggled to hold herself together.
The rain intensified, the droplets now cascading in sheets, drenching her to the bone. The water pooled at her feet, cold and unrelenting, but she didn't care.
The courtyard grew darker as the storm fully unleashed itself, thunder rumbling in the distance.
She stood there, soaked and trembling, her hair plastered to her face, her dress clinging to her skin. And still, her gaze remained fixed on the gates.
I love him, she thought desperately, the words cutting through the storm in her mind. I love his strength, his attention, the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters.
I love his body, his presence, his very being. And now… now, I feel like I'm breaking without him.
Tears mixed with the rain on her cheeks, though she didn't notice. Her lips quivered as she whispered to the empty courtyard, her voice cracking. "Come back to me, Alaric."
The storm raged on, cold and unrelenting, but Salviana stood unmoving, a figure of defiant hope and despair in the downpour. She was alone in the dark, but she would wait, no matter how long it took.
He will come back. He must.
But the rain was blocking her vision, seizing her muscles and making her physically uncomfortable.
Her leg started to numb. Soon the numbness in her legs spread, a dull ache throbbing in her knees as she swayed on shaky feet.
Salviana's fingers, white from the cold, clutched at the drenched cloak that clung to her trembling frame.
Her vibrant red hair, now a soaked, tangled mess, clung to her face and shoulders like a shroud.
The storm showed no mercy, pelting her with relentless sheets of rain that seemed to echo her despair.
A single tear slipped from her eye, trailing down her chilled cheek, indistinguishable from the rain that poured over her. But she felt it—a small fragment of the torrent inside her, breaking free.
Maybe he's gone.
The thought hit her like a physical blow, making her breath hitch as she bit down on a sob. Her lips quivered, and her chest ached with the weight of it.
Maybe I'm alone. He's become a casualty. That's why no one told me—because they didn't want my heart to shatter.
A quiet, trembling sob escaped her lips, but she didn't fall, didn't retreat. Her feet remained planted on the cold, wet ground, as though defying the world to prove her wrong.
Why am I so unfortunate?
She blinked rapidly, wiping at her face with a trembling hand. She hadn't realized how heavy the tears had been until now.
The rain blurred her vision, the cold numbing her senses. Her sobs quieted to shallow breaths, her body frozen in a haze of sorrow.
But then—something stirred on the horizon.