As they stepped into the sunlight outside the court, Salviana tightened her grip on Jean's arm, her presence a steadying force. Jean glanced at her and then at Alaric, who seemed deep in thought.
They walked in silence, the weight of the morning pressing heavily on them all.
When they reached their chambers, Alaric turned to Jean and spoke with a firm but gentle tone, "Jean, I need to speak with my wife alone. You'll excuse us."
Jean hesitated, her brows furrowing in concern. Clearing her throat, she dared to ask the question that had been clawing at her mind, her voice barely a whisper. "Your Grace… where is Lucius?"
Alaric's expression was unreadable as he glanced over his shoulder, speaking with an almost nonchalant air. "I took him back to the ruins. He'll be fine."
Relief flooded Jean's features, and she quickly bowed her head. "Thank you so much, Your Grace."
But Alaric's sharp retort cut through her gratitude. "I didn't do it for your thanks."
The abruptness of his words made Salviana roll her eyes, her exasperation evident as she lightly tugged on his arm.
Jean, sensing the dismissal, gave a polite nod and turned away, making her way toward the maids to ensure everything was in order.
Alaric turned his attention back to Salviana, interlocking his fingers with hers as they entered their bedroom.
Once inside, he guided her gently to the edge of the bed, where she sat with a soft sigh.
"How are you feeling now?" Alaric asked, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. His dark eyes were filled with concern, a stark contrast to the commanding tone he used with others.
Salviana tilted her head, considering his question. "I feel… okay, I suppose. Just this strange, light buzzing sensation, like my body is being lightly electrocuted—constantly." Her lips pressed into a faint frown, which Alaric's fingers quickly brushed away.
"You'll need to start eating energy-rich foods from now on," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Yes, husband," she giggled, her lighthearted response softening the tension in the room.
Alaric, however, remained focused. "So, what did you eat yesterday? I need a full recap."
Salviana raised a brow, her playful demeanor giving way to curiosity. "Why? What are you trying to do?"
"Investigate," he replied simply, his gaze unwavering.
Her brows knit together in confusion. "Investigate? But why? Margaretha has already been punished. It's over."
Alaric's expression darkened, his voice low but deliberate. "Salviana, you were poisoned yesterday."
Her breath hitched, and her face paled. "Poisoned?" she repeated, her voice trembling. "Me? Why would anyone—who would do that?"
"That's exactly what I'm trying to find out," Alaric said firmly, taking her hands in his. "Whatever it was, it wasn't just luck or chance. Someone intended to harm you, and I won't rest until I know who."
Salviana's heart pounded in her chest as the weight of his words settled over her.
What she had thought was a cruel twist of fate turned out to be a deliberate act of malice. For the first time, fear crept into her gaze.
Alaric tightened his grip on her hands, his voice softening. "I'll keep you safe, Salviana. I promise you that. But I need your help to piece this together."
She nodded slowly, her resolve strengthening. "What do you need me to do?"
"Start by telling me everything you ate and drank yesterday," Alaric said, his tone now brisk and focused. "Even the smallest detail could matter."
Salviana took a deep breath, her mind racing to recall every moment of the day.
Salviana drew a deep breath, her thoughts scattered but trying to focus. "I… I had breakfast with you," she began, her voice uncertain. "The maids delivered it, and I didn't have dinner."
Alaric's eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you go out yesterday?"
"Yes," she replied. "I checked on Jean, met Florence, and then went to the Queen's chambers. I didn't eat anything in those places… except—wait!" Her brows knitted as she frowned, struggling to recall. "I was really thirsty at the Queen's, so I asked for water. They offered me water and snacks."
Alaric leaned forward, his sharp gaze fixed on her. "Anything strange about what you were given?"
Salviana shook her head slowly. "Nothing felt odd, but I'll think harder… maybe I'll remember something later."
"You could have died last night, my love," Alaric said, his voice low and weighted with emotion. His jaw tightened as he added, "I think you did, for a moment. Only your divinity saved you, and I wasn't there to stop it."
Salviana's heart clenched at the pain in his tone. "It's not your fault," she said softly. "I should've been more careful. I truly thought I was going to die."
Alaric shook his head, guilt etched into his features. "I never want to lose you, Salviana. If you ever feel even a hint of pain, promise me you'll tell me."
"I will," she whispered, though she reassured him she felt fine. Still, she marveled at how quickly her body had healed.
Alaric wasn't satisfied. "You didn't stop anywhere before meeting the Queen or Jean? You didn't taste anything strange or sniff anything unusual?" he pressed, his voice steady but insistent.
Silence fell as Salviana's mind raced through the day's events. Then her eyes widened in realization.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I stopped by the Wyfgroove Garden. I remember being offered something called the 'garden special.'"
"The garden special?" Alaric frowned, his tone sharp with suspicion.
Alaric listened intently, his sharp mind already piecing together the puzzle. Somewhere in the details lay the answer, and he was determined to find it.
"Yes. I asked for water, but the maid brought me a strange drink instead. She called it the garden special." As she spoke, Salviana's voice rose, her realization growing.
Alaric's expression darkened, his mind working quickly. "Salviana," he said evenly, "the Wyfgroove Garden doesn't serve special drinks. The scent of the flowers is the special. Whatever you drank wasn't from the garden."