Married To Darkness
Chapter 266: Tonight.

Chapter 266: Tonight.

Salviana nodded thoughtfully, running her fingers over the fabrics. "They’re beautiful," she said simply, though her mind was still half-focused on her painting. "Let’s try them on and see how they feel."

As they prepared the fitting, she couldn’t help but think back to her canvas.

The woman’s face seemed to watch her, her painted eyes glinting with something almost alive. Salviana shook off the thought and turned her attention back to the dressmakers.

The painting can wait, she told herself. For now, duty calls.

Jean stood by the door, her hands clasped as she watched Salviana try on dress after dress.

She had taken the liberty of inviting Spur Stanley, the seventh princesses dressmaker, certain her lady would want something exquisite for the king’s upcoming birthday.

It was to be a grand occasion, and Salviana would need to shine brighter than any jewel in the room.

Jean had also purchased new makeup and accessories, a gesture of devotion that reflected how much she loved serving Salviana.

The young maid’s enthusiasm was infectious, and even the reserved Salviana couldn’t help but smile at her efforts.

"Try this one, my lady," Jean said, stepping forward with a gown of deep crimson silk. The fabric shimmered in the light, its intricate gold embroidery catching Salviana’s eye.

"It’s beautiful," Salviana murmured as Spur and Monica helped her into it. She stood before the mirror, turning this way and that. "What do you think, Jean?"

Jean clapped her hands together. "You look stunning, my lady! Fit for a queen!"

Spur, who had been waiting for the right moment, stepped forward with a dramatic flourish. "Ah, my dear Princess, these gowns were worth the wait, weren’t they? I must admit, I’ve been working tirelessly for months on these designs, knowing that only you could do them justice."

Monica nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling. "The craftsmanship... every stitch was made with you in mind, my lady."

Salviana smiled, a rare warmth in her expression. "You’ve outdone yourselves. I love them all."

Spur beamed. "And you needn’t worry about the cost, my lady. The third prince’s payment from last time covered all of this. It was generous enough for me to dedicate myself entirely to these creations."

Jean’s smile widened. "See, my lady? Everything came together perfectly, just in time for the king’s birthday."

Salviana nodded, pleased. "Thank you, Spur. And you too, Monica. I truly appreciate your hard work. Why don’t you join us for dinner this evening?"

Spur hesitated, his hand fluttering to his chest as though the invitation had struck him physically. "Dinner... with royalty? My lady, we couldn’t possibly impose—"

"Nonsense," Salviana interrupted gently. "I insist. A royal invitation cannot be refused."

Monica’s eyes widened, and she whispered something to Spur, who finally relented. "Very well, my lady. It would be an honor."

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As the sun near to dip below the horizon, Alaric stepped into their chambers, his expression betraying an unusual elation.

His plan was in motion, and tonight, he would finally confront the culprit who had been plaguing the peace of his household.

The thrill of impending justice energized him, though a small weight lingered at the back of his mind.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, his sharp eyes caught Emma lingering near the hallway. Her fidgeting hands and anxious glances were a clear sign she needed to speak with him.

Remembering that Salviana was painting and wouldn’t want to be disturbed, he called Emma to his office for a private conversation.

He asked about her from Thalia and she says the princess was still painting.

Once inside, Alaric closed the door and motioned for Emma to sit, though he remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back. "Emma," he began, his voice steady but probing, "you seem uneasy. I take it this has to do with what you told me earlier?"

Emma nodded, her eyes darting to the floor. "Yes, Your Highness. I... I just wanted to be sure I did the right thing by telling you."

"You did," Alaric assured her, his tone firm. "But now, I need you to tell me more. Who is Jaefel to you?"

Emma hesitated, her fingers twisting in her lap. Finally, she spoke. "He... he was my neighbor in the village where I grew up. He wasn’t a bad man, Your Highness, at least not then. He kept to himself mostly, but slowly he changed. Strange things."

"Strange how?" Alaric pressed, his brows knitting together.

Emma shook her head. "Nothing concrete, just rumors. He said he loved women and would do anything to get them."

Although Alaric believed this was more than liking girls be let Emma talk.

Alaric studied her carefully, noting the fear and guilt in her voice. "Emma," he said after a pause, his voice softer, "I need you to prepare yourself. Tonight, I intend to confront this man and bring him to justice. If Jaefel truly is the culprit, his connection to you won’t matter. Justice will be served."

Emma met his gaze, her resolve hardening. "I understand, Your Highness. If he is guilty, he must answer for his crimes. I am ready."

Alaric gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "Good. You’ve done well to bring this to my attention. Now, leave the rest to me."

Emma rose, bowing slightly before leaving the office.

She stopped, "Can I come along?"

He frowned, "Tonight?"

"Yes," she said .

"I will consider it," he said.

As the door closed behind her, Alaric let out a weary sigh.

The weight of leadership was heavier than ever tonight.

Balancing justice with compassion, truth with consequences—it was a delicate dance, one he couldn’t afford to misstep.

He walked over to his desk, retrieving a small parchment where he had sketched out his strategy.

Every detail had been planned, every contingency considered.

But still, the thought nagged at him: What if I’ve overlooked something?

With a shake of his head, he pushed the doubt aside.

There was no room for hesitation now. Tonight would be decisive.

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