As the maids—Emma, Sarah, and Thalia—headed toward the servants' quarters, their quiet chatter about the day's events was interrupted by an unusual sight.
Just ahead in the dimly lit courtyard, partially obscured by the pouring rain, a shadowy figure moved near a modest carriage.
The women instinctively slowed their pace, curiosity overtaking their exhaustion.
Under the cover of darkness, they saw a knight, though it was impossible to determine which one due to his rain-soaked cloak and helmet.
He was holding a young maid, her body weak and visibly reluctant as she rested against him.
Despite her faint attempts to push him away, her strength was no match for his firm grip.
"He's… helping her?" Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain.
Emma narrowed her eyes. "Or something else," she murmured cautiously.
The knight maneuvered the maid toward the carriage with care that seemed almost gentle, though the maids watching couldn't be sure.
The carriage itself was peculiar—not one of the royal ones, but not shabby or poor either. Its design was clean and discreet, the type one might use for private or clandestine affairs.
Thalia leaned closer to the others, her voice low. "What's he doing with her? Is she hurt?"
They watched in silence as the knight lifted the maid into the carriage, ensuring she was securely inside before shutting the door.
He then turned to mount the horse at the front of the carriage, adjusting his rain-drenched cloak as he prepared to ride out.
As the sound of hooves faded into the storm, the three women stepped out from their hiding place, exchanging wide-eyed glances.
"What just happened?" Sarah asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Thalia shrugged, though her expression was uneasy. "It's probably just a drunk girl and her knight lover. Maybe she needed a ride home."
Sarah nodded slowly, seeming relieved by the explanation. But Emma, who had been quiet until now, didn't seem convinced.
Her sharp eyes lingered on the carriage tracks disappearing into the distance, the wheels already sinking into the mud from the relentless rain.
"Maybe," Emma said vaguely, not sharing her suspicion. Something about the scene didn't sit right with her—the maid's reluctance, the knight's discreet actions, the unfamiliar carriage. It all felt… off.
Thalia and Sarah tugged at her arms, urging her to move. "Come on, Emma. It's freezing, and we'll catch our deaths out here."
Reluctantly, Emma followed them, casting one last glance over her shoulder before they ducked inside the servants' quarters.
The rain pattered against the roof as they changed into their dry nightclothes, their earlier conversation fading as they prepared for bed.
Thalia and Sarah quickly fell asleep, their soft snores blending with the storm.
But Emma lay awake, her mind replaying the scene in the courtyard.
She didn't know who the knight was, or why the maid seemed so weak and reluctant, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't as innocent as Thalia believed.
Keeping her thoughts to herself, she vowed to watch more closely in the coming days.
Something wasn't right, and Emma intended to find out what.
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Salviana stirred awake to the soft light filtering through the curtains, her body tucked against Alaric's solid warmth.
As her emerald-green eyes fluttered open, a small smile tugged at her lips.
Alaric lay beside her, his features relaxed in sleep, his usual sharp and commanding presence replaced by a peaceful, almost boyish expression.
Unable to resist, she let her gaze roam over him, her fingers twitching with the urge to touch.
Carefully, she reached out, brushing her fingertips along the strong curve of his jaw. His stubble was coarse under her touch, but it only made her smile widen.
Slowly, she traced his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, and the curve of his lips, which twitched ever so slightly as if he could feel her adoration even in sleep.
Leaning forward, she pressed a gentle kiss on his temple, then another on the corner of his mouth, moving down to his chin and neck.
The warmth of his skin against her lips sent a shiver through her. She let her kisses trail lower, her hands following the path as she slid them over his broad shoulders and down the hard planes of his chest.
He was built like a warrior, every muscle honed to perfection, and she marveled at the strength he radiated even now.
Alaric didn't stir, though the faintest hint of a smile began to bloom on his lips, as though he was enjoying her ministrations in the depths of his dreams.
Salviana doesn't see this smile, she continued, letting her kisses become more lingering as her hands roamed over his torso, savoring the heat of his skin under her palms.
When her fingers brushed lower, inside the blanket, she hesitated briefly, her cheeks warming at the discovery.
She slowly removed the blanket and there, beneath the fabric of his trousers, was a prominent swell. Her breath hitched, and she glanced up at his face, wondering if he was awake.
His expression remained passive, though there was a certain tension in his features, his brows slightly drawn, his jaw tightening.
It was as if he was curious how far she would go, so he didn't move and he silently challenging her.
Biting her lip, Salviana's curiosity got the better of her.
Slowly, she let her hand slide over the thick ridge beneath the blanket, marveling at the heat and hardness she felt through the fabric.
Alaric's thighs tensed slightly in response, but he still said nothing, as his breathing continued to remain even.
Her palm flattened against him, and she began to rub gently, her touch growing bolder as she explored the sheer size and rigidity of him.
His shaft started to grow harder and larger that a soft gasp escaped her lips, her heart racing as she realized just how responsive he was, even in this state.
Alaric's breathing shifted then, just the faintest catch, but it was enough to make her pause. She glanced up again, and this time, his eyes fluttered open, those striking black orbs meeting hers.