Salviana giggled like a maniac, her laughter filling the room with a carefree warmth.
"Let's get you into something fluffy and warm," he said, opening the doors to pick out a suitable cloak.
"Fluffy and warm," Salviana repeated, mimicking his tone with a playful smirk.
He shook his head at her antics, watching her trust him so wholly that she hadn't even asked where they were going.
That trust filled him with a quiet sense of pride—and an equally quiet fear. He never wanted to break it, but he worried about how her unwavering faith in him might one day lead to harm.
"Hands," he instructed.
She obediently spread her arms, and he carefully draped a heavy cloak over her shoulders.
The soft fabric swallowed her smaller frame, and he took a moment to tuck her hair under the hood, adjusting it over her head with gentle precision.
"Ready?" he asked, his gaze locked with hers.
"Yes!" she squealed softly, brimming with excitement.
He smiled at her enthusiasm, taking her hand as they headed downstairs together. Outside, they approached the horse waiting patiently by Manni.
Salviana jogged ahead, raising her hand in triumph. "I'm sitting in front!"
Alaric rolled his eyes. "No, you're not."
"Why not?" she whined, pouting dramatically.
"You're sitting behind me, holding on tight," he replied with an authoritative tone.
"Yes, sir," she teased, sticking her lower lip out even further.
Alaric groaned and grabbed her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "Don't pout," he growled softly.
She raised an eyebrow, defiant. "Don't tell me what to do with my face."
His lips curved into a grin before he kissed her lashes, then her lips. "I will, because this face is mine," he declared.
She glared up at him. "No, it's not."
"You're mine," he countered, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.
Their moment was interrupted by Manni clearing his throat awkwardly. "Your Graces," the coachman said, his tone polite yet pointed.
Alaric sighed, releasing her face as he mounted the horse in one swift motion. Salviana, still standing below, narrowed her eyes at him.
"Are you leaving me behind?" she asked, her voice laced with mock urgency.
"Never," he replied, extending a hand to help her up. She clasped it and climbed behind him, quickly wrapping her arms around his chest and her legs snugly around his waist.
"Salviana, this is not how you sit on a horse," Alaric muttered, his voice strained as her closeness sent a heat simmering through him.
She laughed softly, squeezing him tighter. "No?"
"Don't be a naughty girl," he warned lowly, his tone filled with both affection and exasperation.
"Okay, Prince Alaric," she said sweetly, loosening her legs just enough to sit properly. "I shall let you breathe."
But despite her promise, she shifted closer, pressing her body into his back for warmth. The cold night air didn't bother her as long as she could feel his heat radiating through the cloak.
Alaric clicked his tongue, urging the horse forward. The animal began to move, its hooves crunching softly against the gravel path.
The night was quiet save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant howl of the wind.
Salviana rested her head against Alaric's back, her eyes closing briefly as the gentle rhythm of the ride lulled her into a calm state.
"Where are we going?" she finally asked, her voice muffled against him.
Alaric glanced back at her briefly, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "You'll not be curious."
She sighed dramatically, tightening her hold around him. "You're very cryptic tonight, my prince."
"And you're very clingy," he teased, though his tone held no complaint.
"Don't you love it," she shot back, a mischievous edge to her voice.
He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Perhaps I do."
Manni followed closely behind them, his horse keeping a steady pace. The coachman cast a glance toward the couple, a subtle smile tugging at his lips.
Despite the oddity of the situation, their dynamic was undeniable—playful yet deeply bonded.
As they rode further into the night, the air grew cooler, and the stars above seemed to dim slightly. Salviana, noticing the shift, peered over Alaric's shoulder.
"Is it just me, or does the sky look… darker?" she asked softly.
Alaric's expression grew serious, his gaze flicking upward. "It's not just you," he murmured.
Manni, overhearing, pulled his horse closer. "Your Grace, the night feels… unsettled. There's something unnatural about it."
Alaric nodded, his jaw tightening. "Stay alert."
Salviana shivered, both from the cold and a sudden sense of unease. She pressed closer to Alaric, her fingers clutching his cloak. "Do you think it's safe to continue?"
"I told you before that it wasn't," he said.
"Alaric," she warned.
His hand moved to hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You'll be safe with me, Fiery. I promise."
Despite his words, Alaric's instincts were on high alert. Something was out there—probably watching, waiting. Whatever lay ahead, he knew he had to protect her at all costs.
The evil they had sensed in the air simmered down as the night stretched on.
The oppressive tension lifted like a dissipating fog, though the unease lingered in the corners of Alaric's mind.
They continued their journey under the faint glow of the moon. The gravelly path soon smoothed out, leading them closer to a well-worn trade route.
It wasn't long before they encountered merchants and travelers making their way through the night.
The first group they came upon was a trio of peddlers with carts loaded with trinkets, fabrics, and spices.
The scent of cloves and lavender wafted through the air as they approached.
"Evening, travelers!" one of the merchants called, his voice hearty and warm.
"Evening," Alaric replied, his tone guarded yet polite.
Salviana, on the other hand, immediately brightened, leaning forward slightly on the horse. "Good evening! What brings you out so late?"
The merchant chuckled, adjusting his wide-brimmed hat. "Late-night trade, my lady. The roads are quieter, though not always safer."