Married To Darkness
Chapter 293: Salviana’s Grand Preparation

Chapter 293: Salviana’s Grand Preparation

The new knights assigned to the Seventh Princess Salviana’s chambers, as well as those of Prince Alaric, were lined up neatly outside their respective quarters.

Jaefel, Samion, and Heappal were dressed impeccably in their uniforms—polished armor that gleamed under the morning sunlight, paired with dark capes trimmed with silver that bore the insignia of the royal family.

Their swords hung at their sides, hilts glinting with the promise of readiness.

Despite their attempts to remain stoic and professional, there was a palpable sense of excitement buzzing between the three.

"I can’t believe we’re stationed here," whispered Jaefel, the youngest of the group, his voice barely audible over the faint rustle of the castle’s busy corridors.

His boyish enthusiasm was hard to contain, and he shifted on his feet as if unable to stand still.

"Keep your voice down, Jaefel," muttered Samion, the most composed of the trio.

His deep voice carried authority, and his broad shoulders made him appear every inch the seasoned knight, even if his experience was still budding. "This isn’t just any posting. We’re guarding the Seventh Princess and the third Prince himself. Show some decorum."

Jaefel rolled his eyes but fell silent, trying to mimic the stiff posture of Heappal, who stood like a statue beside them.

Heappal, the eldest and most experienced, had a square jaw and a no-nonsense expression that rarely wavered.

He had been a squire under one of the greatest knights of Velthorne and had a reputation for his unwavering loyalty.

But even Heappal couldn’t fully hide the small flicker of pride in his eyes.

Standing outside these chambers on the king’s grand birthday felt monumental.

It wasn’t just about protecting royalty—it was about proving themselves worthy in the eyes of the kingdom.

"Do you think we’ll see any action today?" Jaefel asked again, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Or will we just stand here looking pretty?"

Samion smirked. "If we’re lucky, we’ll have nothing more than a dull shift. But if trouble does come knocking, you’d better be ready."

"I’m always ready," Jaefel shot back, puffing out his chest slightly.

"Enough," Heappal interjected, his voice low but firm. "This isn’t a tavern. Straighten up, both of you. The princess could step out at any moment, and we will not embarrass ourselves in front of her or the prince."

The reminder sobered them quickly, and they adjusted their stances, holding their heads high.

They had trained for this, after all.

Their posting wasn’t mere chance—it was recognition of their potential and skill.

Inside the Seventh Princess Salviana’s chambers, the sound of her maids bustling about could be heard faintly through the heavy wooden door.

The princess’s laughter, soft and melodic, drifted through the air like a song, easing the tension in the knights’ shoulders.

"She seems kind," Jaefel said after a moment, his tone softer.

"She’s a royal," Samion replied. "Kindness or not, our duty is to protect her with our lives."

"And the prince?" Jaefel added, glancing down the corridor toward Prince Alaric’s chambers, where another set of knights stood just as resolutely. "What’s he like?"

Samion shrugged. "I hear he’s cunning. Keeps to himself most of the time. Some say he’s the shadow of the kingdom—always there, always watching."

"He’s the demon prince after all" Jaefel replied, it was on the tip of his tongue to tell them about his night with the third prince but the night was too much for such a short talk.

"Enough gossip," Heappal interrupted. "It doesn’t matter what they’re like. What matters is that we’re ready for anything."

As if on cue, the door to Salviana’s chambers opened, and Thalia stepped out, carrying a bundle of gowns.

She nodded politely to the knights before hurrying down the hallway.

Samion leaned closer to Jaefel. "See? Dull shift," he whispered with a smirk.

But Heappal wasn’t convinced. His green eyes scanned the corridor, his instincts tingling. "Something tells me today won’t be so dull after all," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His gaze lingered on the retreating Thalia.

And as the castle hummed with the energy of the king’s grand celebration, the knights held their positions, hearts steady yet alert, ready to prove their worth on this monumental day.

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The morning light spilled through the tall, arched windows of Salviana’s chambers, illuminating the polished wooden floors and the gilded furnishings that adorned the room.

The air was filled with the faint scent of lavender from the oils her maids had used earlier to refresh the space, mingling with the low hum of their voices as they worked diligently to prepare her for the grand day.

Salviana stood before the ornate mirror, the intricate carvings on its golden frame reflecting the anxious flutter in her chest.

She watched as Emma and Sarah, her two trusted maids, hovered around her, their hands deftly handling the fine fabric of the dress that lay waiting on the chaise.

The gown was nothing short of a masterpiece. Emerald green satin shimmered under the soft sunlight, its surface adorned with brown lace embroidery and gilded accents that wove together in delicate, regal patterns.

The design exuded elegance and power, a balance Salviana knew she had to embody.

"Hold still, my lady," Emma, the younger of the two maids, said as she tightened the corset strings at the back.

Her voice was gentle but firm, her hands pulling with precision. "This part takes patience."

Salviana let out a soft breath, her lips curving into a small smile despite the slight discomfort. "Patience is something I’m still working on, Emma," she quipped, her tone light, though her fingers gripped the edge of the dressing table tightly.

"Goodness, you’re tiny, my lady," Sarah, the older maid, chimed in, stepping forward to adjust the golden lace framing the neckline. "You make this corset look like it was sewn onto you. No wonder the prince can’t take his eyes off you."

At the mention of Alaric, Salviana’s cheeks warmed, and she glanced away, feigning interest in the reflection of the bustling courtyard below. "Sarah," she scolded softly, though the corners of her lips betrayed her amusement.

"I’m just saying," Sarah continued, her tone teasing. "This dress will have everyone talking, and not just because of its beauty. It’s not every day a gown like this sees the light of day."

Emma finished tightening the corset, tying the golden threads into a neat bow at the back. "How does it feel, my lady?" she asked, stepping back to assess her work.

"Tight," Salviana admitted with a breathless chuckle, running her hands over the embroidered bodice.

The structured fit accentuated her figure, making her feel both regal and vulnerable. "But perfect. Thank you, Emma."

The maids moved to the next task, guiding Salviana to sit on the cushioned bench so they could slip on her stockings and shoes.

The stockings were sheer with a delicate gold trim, a subtle yet elegant addition to the ensemble.

"These shoes are fit for a queen," Sarah said as she knelt, carefully sliding the emerald green satin slippers onto Salviana’s feet.

The shoes had tiny golden buckles and a slight heel, designed for both comfort and sophistication. "I don’t know how you walk so gracefully in these, my lady."

Salviana smiled, leaning down slightly. "Practice," she replied. "And a lot of near-falls over the years."

Emma stood, holding out the final piece: the choker-like collar, embroidered with gold to match the gown.

She fastened it gently around Salviana’s neck, her fingers brushing against the soft skin. "There," she said with a hint of pride. "Now you’re perfect."

Salviana rose to her feet, the full skirt of her gown cascading to the floor in voluminous folds.

The fabric caught the sunlight, revealing its rich texture and the intricate details that had been meticulously crafted.

She turned to face the mirror, her reflection a vision of majesty and grace.

"Do you like it, my lady?" Emma asked, her voice tinged with a touch of nervousness.

Salviana’s gaze softened as she studied herself, taking in every detail—the square neckline with its lace frills, the puffed sleeves tapering into elegant cuffs, the flowing skirt that seemed to dance with every movement.

She touched the embroidered collar lightly, her fingers brushing over the gold thread.

"I love it," she said finally, her voice steady. "You’ve both outdone yourselves."

Sarah beamed. "It’s not just the dress, my lady. It’s you. You could wear a sack, and the court would still bow to you."

Salviana laughed, a sound that lightened the air in the room. "Let’s not test that theory, Sarah," she said, moving toward the door.

As she stepped out of the chambers, the soft rustle of her gown announced her presence.

The knights standing guard—Jaefel, Samion, and Heappal—snapped to attention, their expressions a mixture of awe and admiration.

"My lady," Heappal said, bowing deeply.

Salviana acknowledged them with a gentle nod, her heart steadying as she walked gracefully toward the grand hall.

The weight of the gown, the whispers of the maids, the sharp gazes of the knights—all of it reminded her of her position, her responsibility.

But deep down, as the dress swayed with each step and the gold accents glinted in the morning light, she felt a flicker of hope.

Today, she would face the whispers, the stares, and the expectations. And she would rise, as she always did, with grace and strength.