'She could be a witch or cursed indeed,'
'She's right, with the redhead and all,'
'Never seen eyes greener,'
'And she gives off an aura I absolutely fear,'
Salviana shuddered in shock.
Alaric was on his feet instantly, his dark eyes blazing with fury.
He looked at Salviana, who was doing her best to appear unaffected, though her hands trembled slightly.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her.
"Don't mind her," he said, his voice low but firm. "She's a fool who speaks from jealousy and fear. You're the one who nearly died—alone."
Salviana gave a small nod, but her lips still trembled.
Prince Spencer stood hesitantly. "Alaric," he began, his tone pleading. "Please. Is there no way to reconsider? Jollene and Christina are our sisters. They've made a terrible mistake, but the dungeons…"
Alaric turned his piercing gaze on Spencer. "If they were outsiders, they'd be hanged," he said coldly. "The dungeons are mercy."
Spencer lowered his head, defeated, and sat back down.
The guards stepped forward, gripping the sobbing princesses by their arms. Jollene screamed, "You can't do this to us! We're royalty!"
Christina shrieked, "Please, Salviana! Help us! We'll do anything!"
But Salviana stood silent, unmoving. Her gaze was distant, her heart a fortress against their pleas.
The guards dragged the two princesses away, their cries echoing through the chamber until the heavy doors slammed shut.
The court fell into an eerie silence. Everyone present knew one thing for certain: Don't mess with Salviana.
As the tension began to ease, Alaric took Salviana's hand and led her out of the courtroom. His grip was protective, his presence a shield against the judgmental stares.
"You don't need to explain yourself to anyone," he said quietly as they walked. "You've done nothing wrong. They brought this upon themselves."
"I know," Salviana whispered, though her voice wavered.
"They'll learn," Alaric continued, his tone resolute. "This castle, this court, this kingdom—they'll all learn. No one harms my wife and walks away unscathed."
His words, spoken with such fierce conviction, brought a flicker of warmth to Salviana's heart.
She leaned against him as they left the court, knowing that while the castle walls might still harbor enemies, she had the unwavering loyalty of her husband.
/
The hallway was bright and busy, the people were still whispering as Alaric leaned closer to Salviana, his breath warm against her ear. "Shall we go out of the castle?" he whispered, his voice low and enticing.
Salviana smiled softly, tilting her head toward him. "No, I wish to paint," she whispered back, her golden eyes shimmering with a rare sense of excitement.
Alaric's lips curved into a grin. "Oh, lovely," he said. "Come on, I'd love to see you in your zone."
She chuckled lightly. "It's nothing serious," she replied, brushing off his enthusiasm.
"I know," Alaric said, his tone unwavering. "But it'll still be spectacular. Everything you create is."
Her laughter bubbled up, soft and genuine, but before she could reply, the sky opened up, and a sudden downpour began.
Rain cascaded down in heavy sheets, drenching the cobblestone courtyard.
"Run!" Alaric said, grabbing her hand. They both sprinted toward the covered walkway, rain soaking through their clothes.
By the time they reached the waiting carriage, their laughter filled the air, mixing with the rhythmic patter of rain.
Inside the carriage, Salviana leaned against the window, her gaze fixed on the rain streaking down the glass.
She sighed, her voice wistful. "This is really the best weather for painting. I can't wait to see what comes out of it."
Alaric watched her intently, his dark eyes softening. "I can't wait either. It'll be perfect, just like you."
When they arrived at their chambers, Salviana immediately instructed the maids to prepare her painting tools in the art room she'd designed weeks ago. "Make sure the brushes are cleaned and the easel is set by the window," she said.
Emma, Thalia, and Sarah, her most trusted maids, bustled about with excitement.
The room itself was a serene space Salviana had carefully planned. A large, arched window dominated one wall, letting in the cool breeze and the fresh, earthy scent of rain.
The walls were painted a soft cream, a blank canvas in themselves, and sunlight would flood the room when the storm passed.
Salviana disappeared briefly to change into simpler, more flexible attire.
When she returned, her hair tied back and a light smock over her dress, she found the maids still arranging the room.
"Emma, shift the easel a little closer to the window," she said, gesturing with her hand.
"Thalia, place the palette and brushes on the small table beside it. And Sarah, can you adjust the curtains just a touch? I want to keep the light soft but let in as much fresh air as possible."
The maids moved quickly, their hands deft and precise.
"I love this room," Emma said quietly as she straightened the easel.
"It's perfect for painting," Thalia added, glancing around with admiration.
Salviana smiled warmly. "It's the smell of the rain, isn't it? It always makes everything feel fresh and alive."
"Yes, my lady," Sarah agreed. "It's inspiring just to be here."
Finally, the room was ready. Salviana stood in the center, surveying the setup with a critical eye. After a moment, she nodded. "This will do nicely. Thank you, all of you."
The maids curtsied and left the room, leaving Salviana alone with her tools and the storm.
She took a deep breath, running her fingers lightly over the brushes and paints. It had been almost fifty days since she'd last held a brush, and her hands tingled with anticipation.
Alaric peeked in through the doorway, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Are you ready?" he asked, his tone teasing but warm.
Salviana looked over her shoulder, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Ready as I'll ever be. Now, no distractions. Go."
He held up his hands in mock surrender, chuckling as he left. "Fine, but I'll be back to see your masterpiece."
Left alone, Salviana set to work. The rain continued to fall, the rhythmic sound guiding her strokes as the blank canvas before her began to transform.
Her world narrowed to the colors and the image forming under her hands, a quiet joy blooming in her chest.
For the first time in fifty days, she felt free.