Married To Darkness
Chapter 102: Favorite Flower.

Chapter 102: Favorite Flower.

They walked over to his magnificent black stallion, Soar, whose sleek coat glistened in the warm sunlight. As Salviana reached out to stroke Soar’s mane, Alaric’s gloved hand moved to help her mount.

His touch lingered a bit longer than usual as he steadied her, his hands strong but gentle. She noticed the way his hands lingered on her waist, steadying her as she settled onto the horse, and the warmth of his touch sent a thrill through her. She shivered but waited for him to join.

Alaric mounted behind her, his arms encircling her protectively, and she felt the warmth of his chest against her back, his touch reassuring.

His gloved fingers brushed her hand briefly, and she caught his soft smiles, more frequent and tender than she was used to.

There was a comfort, a quiet intimacy in each gesture, that filled her with a new sense of closeness.

She leaned into him as Soar started forward, the rhythmic motion of the horse and the warmth of Alaric’s presence creating a peaceful, shared silence between them as they rode into the day together.

They soon reached the city so they rode in comfortable silence to a rental stable.

The stable was a humble structure at the edge of town, with wide paddocks and wooden posts weathered by sun and time.

They paid the keeper to watch over their steeds and, with a final pat on the neck for his horse, Alaric murmured his thanks to the gentle creature, feeling a slight pang in his muscles from the long ride.

Once they were assured the horses were cared for, Alaric took Salviana’s hand, lacing his gloved fingers with hers as they walked toward the heart of Wyfellon.

They found a flower shop nestled between a cobbler’s stall and a bakery that wafted with the scent of fresh bread.

Alaric opened the door for her, his other hand resting gently on her lower back as she entered with a smile.

The flower shop was small and warm, a delightful escape into vivid color and fragrance. Shelves and hanging baskets brimmed with blooms in every shade imaginable.

Pots of lavender and sage filled the air with earthy sweetness, while more delicate fragrances drifted from roses in hues of soft pink, deep red, and creamy white.

Salviana breathed in deeply, the scents mingling like a spell, and immediately felt her spirits lift as if each blossom held a promise of beauty to come.

A cheerful, elderly woman approached them, moving with the slight stoop of age but with eyes as bright as the flowers she sold. "Well, what can I do for such a lovely pair today?" she asked, her gaze flitting knowingly between Alaric and Salviana.

Before Alaric could answer, Salviana’s face lit up, and she leaned forward with a grin.

"Flower seeds!" she replied with a note of excitement. "Do you have any that thrive well in the shade? And maybe some that bloom in late spring?"

"Oh, I have just the thing," the woman said, her hands gesturing animatedly as she bustled to a shelf. "You’ll want primroses and violets for early spring, they love a bit of shade. And then, for something to last through summer, how about some foxgloves and lilies?"

Salviana nodded eagerly, her eyes scanning the shelves as she picked up packets of seeds, one after the other.

She listened intently, matching the woman’s enthusiasm. "Do you happen to have marigolds? And maybe snapdragons?" she asked, a spark of joy in her tone.

"Oh, bless you, dear! Marigolds are wonderful!" the woman laughed, clutching packets of seeds in her arms. "They keep away pests like they’re on duty. And snapdragons, yes! Marvelous in any garden—real charmers, those. Now, if you’re serious about creating a grand display, you can’t skip the daffodils and tulips. And roses, of course, though mind you, they can be a bit temperamental."

Salviana’s eyes lit up. "Oh, and my favorite!"

"Do you have a favorite?" Alaric asked, surprised.

"Of course I do!" Salviana shot him an incredulous look. "Why wouldn’t I?"

"Well, typically, people would mention their favorite right away." Alaric replied a little defensive.

"You’re right," she mused. "That wasn’t very normal, was it?"

He gave her a gentle smile. "But you’re my wife; you can be as ’weird’ as you want."

Salviana blushed, stepping closer to the woman. Alaric reddened himself, wondering if he’d sounded too candid.

"So, what’s your favorite, dear?" the woman prompted with a warm smile.

"Salvia!" Salviana squealed, surprising Alaric, while the woman grinned knowingly. "My favorite flower is Salvia," she added, dreamily.

"Salvia, really?" Alaric’s gruff voice was laced with curiosity. He raised a brow, intrigued. "Why would your name and your favorite flower be so... similar?"

"Are you suggesting I like it because it sounds like my name?" she teased, hands on her hips.

"No, of course not," he defended with a laugh. "But maybe you do?"

She huffed. "What, you think I’m that shallow?"

"No, no, that’s not what I meant," he chuckled, trying to backtrack. She was ready for him today it appeared. "So why Salvia?"

"Why are you smiling? Do you want to laugh?" she accused, squinting at him. "At me?" She added.

"No," he said, his tone serious but his eyes soft. "In fact, I’d burn anyone who laughs at you or your opinion."

"Oh, so you get to laugh at me?" She raised a brow.

He looked away, trying to stifle the smile tugging at his lips, but her questions kept making him smile and his smile was contagious.

Salviana bit her lip and took a sprig of Salvia from the woman’s display, twirling it between her fingers. "Did you know that Salvia means ’to heal’ in Latin?" she murmured, glancing up at him. "It’s been used as medicine for centuries. I like to think... perhaps I will have a similar effect on you."

Alaric’s face softened but his heart tightened, to say that was one of the main reasons why he had picked her for marriage. "That’s true, you are good for me," he murmured. "A healer and a charmer."

"Precisely!" Salviana beamed.

Alaric knew she would heal him and with the way things are going, he knew he was charmed.

She has managed to snake her affection around his being that he couldn’t imagine himself without it.