"Settle down?" Jackson scoffed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Who has time for that?"
"Not all of us are looking to get tied down to one woman," Samion added, grinning wickedly.
Heappal ignored them, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm serious. A home. A wife. A family. A kind, beautiful girl I can come home to… someone who makes life more than just swinging swords."
The knights burst into laughter, loud and teasing.
"Oh, listen to this one," Jackson said, clapping Heappal on the back. "We've got ourselves a lover boy!"
"Careful, Heappal," Samion teased. "You're going to make the rest of us look bad."
Despite the ribbing, Heappal's expression didn't change.
He glanced toward the horizon, where the morning fog was beginning to lift, and shrugged. "Say what you want. One day, you'll envy me when you're old and alone."
"Old and rich," Samion quipped, earning another round of laughter.
Richard observed it all from the edge of the group, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
The camaraderie and noise were comforting in their own way, a reminder that not everything in their lives had to be about duty or bloodshed. Sacrifice was a big part.
Still, as the conversation shifted to other topics, his hand brushed absently against the bruise on his face.
The sting was nothing compared to the weight of what had caused it, but he pushed the thought aside.
For now, there was work to be done, and whatever haunted him would have to wait.
~~~{─────────
~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
Salviana stood at the balcony, waving at the third prince, her husband, as he prepared to leave for the day.
The morning sun glinted off his armor, giving him an almost ethereal glow. She smiled warmly, watching him mount his horse, but just as he was about to ride off, he paused.
To her surprise, Alaric turned around, dismounted, and strode back toward her with determined steps.
"Alaric?" she called, laughter in her voice as he approached. "What's—"
He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed her hand and began pulling her toward the staircase.
"Alaric! What's happening?" she asked again, half-laughing, half-bewildered as he led her upstairs with long, purposeful strides.
Still silent, he didn't stop until they reached their bedroom. With a swift motion, he closed the door, pinning her against it.
"Alaric—" Salviana began, but her words were cut off as his mouth descended on hers, fierce and unrelenting.
The kiss was intense, almost desperate, as if he had been holding back a flood of emotions. He devoured her lips like a man starved, his hands gripping her waist and sliding up to cradle her neck.
The strength of his embrace sent a shiver down her spine.
She sighed into his kiss, her soft moan melting into the moment as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
He sank his tongue inside her mouth and the et battled with taking pleasure and giving it.
His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming it with a passion that left her breathless. Their mouths moved together in a heated rhythm, a battle between taking and giving pleasure.
When they finally broke apart, both panting for air, he trailed smaller, urgent kisses along her lips before capturing them again in another searing kiss.
Salviana's mind swirled with confusion and delight. She had no idea what had brought this on, but she wasn't about to stop him. She loved it.
He shifted his grip to her thighs, lifting her effortlessly, and her hands instinctively tangled in his dark hair.
She gasped.
Then, as if a sudden thought struck him, he froze.
Alaric's kisses slowed, becoming softer and more deliberate. He carefully lowered her back to the ground and drew back from her lips, though his hands lingered on her waist.
Their foreheads pressed together as they both tried to catch their breath.
"I missed you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion.
"I've been here every day," Salviana replied breathlessly, her chest rising and falling against his.
"I know," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. "I just… I don't know. I have to go now. Enjoy your day, okay?"
Her brows furrowed slightly, but the warmth in her chest made her smile. "I will," she said softly, then grinned. "But kiss me again."
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Oh, as my lady commands," he said, his voice teasing yet full of affection.
This time, his lips found her jaw, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along its curve.
She tilted her head back, exposing the graceful line of her neck, and he took full advantage, trailing kisses down her throat and across her collarbone.
When his teeth grazed her jaw in a playful nibble, her soft gasp made him smile. He pulled back reluctantly, his fingers lingering on her cheek.
"Goodbye, Salviana," he said, his voice low and filled with unspoken promises.
She watched as he left, her heart still racing and her lips tingling. A breathless smile tugged at her face.
He still finds me attractive, she thought, her cheeks flushing with warmth as she touched her lips.
Her day had only just begun, but it was already perfect.
Salviana descended the staircase gracefully, her presence immediately commanding the attention of the maids waiting in the grand hall below.
Emma, Thalia, and Sarah rushed to her side, curtsying deeply in respect.
"Your Grace," they greeted in unison, their heads bowed.
Salviana offered them a warm smile. "Good morning. I wanted to let you know why you haven't seen Jean these past two days. She's bedridden and resting, so I need you to prepare a healthy breakfast and accompany me to her quarters. She'll need all the strength she can get."
The maids exchanged glances of concern before nodding earnestly. "Of course, Your Grace," Emma said, her tone sympathetic.
"We'll make sure it's something nutritious," Thalia added as they moved toward the kitchen with purpose.
Salviana lingered for a moment, watching the maids bustle about, gathering fresh ingredients.
The sound of knives slicing through vegetables and pots clinking filled the air. She admired their efficiency, though she remained alert for any missteps.
Sarah, the quietest of the three, stepped closer to her side. "Your Grace?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the activity in the kitchen.
Salviana turned her gaze to the young maid, tilting her head slightly. "Yes, Sarah? Is something the matter?"
The maid hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I was only wondering… how is the embroidery coming along?"
Salviana's lips curved into a soft smile. "I'm doing well now, thank you for asking. Thalia and I planned to work on it together before I present it to the queen. But, Sarah, perfection mustn't dictate the state of my relationship with Her Majesty. She deserves effort, not unattainable flawlessness."
Sarah nodded, a hint of admiration glimmering in her eyes. "You're very wise, Your Grace." She curtsied before retreating to join the others.
Salviana chuckled softly to herself, feeling a quiet satisfaction in her exchange with the young maid.
A short while later, the maids returned, carrying steaming trays of hot, wholesome dishes. The aroma of freshly baked bread, simmering broth, and herbal tea filled the air.
Salviana inspected the trays briefly, pleased with their efforts, before gesturing for them to follow her.
"Let's not keep her waiting," she said, taking the lead.
The small entourage made their way through the corridors of the castle, their footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. Salviana's guards stood at attention as she passed.
"Your Grace," one of them greeted, bowing slightly.
"Good morning," Salviana replied warmly, her voice steady and gracious.
The guards stepped aside, clearing the path as she and the maids moved toward Jean's quarters.
Though her expression remained serene, Salviana's mind was focused on Jean's condition, hoping the warm meal and company would bring her some comfort.
~~~{────────────
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
Jean woke slowly, blinking against the morning light filtering through the curtains. Lucius had opened the window for her it seems.
Her nose wrinkled slightly as a delightful, warm aroma wafted into the room.
It was rich and savory, mingled with something sweet. For a moment, she thought she might still be dreaming.
She frowned, pulling herself up in bed. Where was that smell coming from?
The ache in her body reminded her she wasn't entirely herself. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and winced at the stiffness in her limbs.
Despite this, curiosity tugged at her, and she pushed herself upright.
As she walked toward the bathroom, the cool air kissed her skin, making her acutely aware of her disheveled state.
Her hair hung limp over her shoulders, tangled from a restless night, and her skin felt both sticky and clammy.
She longed for a proper bath—something to make her feel human again—but knew she couldn't manage one without falling.
Inside the bathroom, she debated for a moment before settling for relieving herself and freshening up as best she could.