Married To Darkness
Chapter 305: The Archery After Debauchary

Chapter 305: The Archery After Debauchary

"The Lion’s Heir"

"From noble blood and warrior’s grace,

A prince was born, the land’s embrace.

His blade is swift, his heart is true,

A lion’s son, both bold and blue."

A wave of excitement surged through the hall—Alaric.

The prince himself remained still, though his sharp black eyes flickered with something unreadable.

His mother’s name had been sung with reverence, and now his own echoed through the chamber.

Some noble ladies whispered behind their jeweled fans, their gazes flicking toward him in silent approval.

Thalia, Salviana’s maid, clutched her chest with a dreamy sigh, while Sarah bit back a smile. Even Emma, normally composed, couldn’t help but steal a glance at the prince.

Yet King Gideon’s knuckles had turned white, his fist pressing into the armrest of his throne.

The bard played on, his voice unwavering.

"A Future Unfolding"

"So raise a cheer, let voices soar,

For those who lead, for those we adore!

A name that echoes through the land,

A ruler forged by fate’s own hand!"

The words landed like a hammer against stone.

The final note of the lute lingered in the air, stretching the silence that followed. Then—cheers erupted, loud and raucous, nobles clapping, common lords nodding in approval.

Yet at the royal table, there was no applause.

King Gideon did not move.

The queen consort remained still, her lips pressed together so tightly they had turned pale.

The bard, despite sensing the shift in the air, did not bow his head in shame nor lower his eyes in fear. Instead, he stood tall, his expression unreadable.

He had done what bards did best—spoken the truths that others dared not say aloud.

But truth had its price.

And tonight, the king would decide just how much it would cost.

A Silent War of Eyes and Shadows

The herald stepped forward, clearing his throat before addressing the gathering in a booming voice.

"We extend our appreciation to the esteemed bard, a master of song and story, honored tonight by Lord LuYishi."

A polite applause rippled through the crowd, though it was not as enthusiastic as before. The tension in the air had shifted—some sensed it, others remained oblivious. The bard, however, remained composed. He gave a deep bow, the embroidered edges of his cloak brushing the marble floor as he rose, his expression calm and unreadable.

Then, he turned and walked away.

But King Gideon was not done with him.

Seated upon his grand throne, the king’s fingers curled against the armrest, his knuckles whitening. His mind churned, the echoes of the bard’s song gnawing at him like a serpent sinking its fangs deep into his spine.

"The lion’s son, both bold and blue... A ruler forged by fate’s own hand."

The words had been sung before hundreds, weaving Alaric into a destiny that should never be his. A threat. A prophecy in disguise.

This was not mere flattery. This was treason.

His piercing gaze flickered like a blade, sharp and silent, sliding toward his captain of the guards. He did not speak, nor move, yet the message was clear.

Arrest him. Quietly.

The guards shifted in the shadows, their movements smooth and deliberate. They fanned out subtly, their leather boots making no sound against the floor as they prepared to intercept the bard before he could vanish into the castle corridors.

But before the trap could fully close—

Two sets of eyes caught the motion.

Alaric, seated just a few steps away from the king, had already noticed. His relaxed posture did not change, but his grip on his goblet tightened. His gaze flicked toward the retreating bard, then to the silent guards advancing through the pillars.

At the same time, from across the room, Lucius had also seen it.

Draped in his usual black attire, standing like a specter behind his charge, his expression did not shift—but his black eyes, ever calculating, locked with Alaric’s. A moment passed.

A silent message exchanged.

They had caught it.

Now the question remained: what would they do about it?

First they would pretend not to notice and find a way to get him out safe after the birthday.

The sun had begun its slow descent beyond the castle walls, casting streaks of amber and violet across the sky.

The evening air was about to be cooler now, carrying the scent of trampled grass, horse sweat, and the lingering aroma of spiced meats from the feast.

But all attention had shifted away from food and onto the next event—the archery contest.

The herald, standing tall upon the wooden platform at the center of the grounds, raised his staff and struck it against the floor. The echo commanded silence.

"Gather now for the grand contest of skill and precision! The Archery Tournament shall commence, and let the arrows fly true!"

The announcement sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd, noblemen and commoners alike turning their eyes to the field.

At the far end of the tournament grounds, rows of targets stood like silent challengers. Each bore rings of gold, red, and white, with the smallest black dot at the center—the coveted bullseye. A line was drawn on the dirt, marking where the competitors would stand.

Among those stepping forward were the princes—Jaron, Warren, and a handful of noblemen eager to test their skills. But there were also outsiders, renowned archers from distant lands, eager to impress and earn the favor of the court.

As they readied themselves, a sudden flurry of movement caught everyone’s eye.

A girl, her blue gown fluttering like a petal caught in the wind, rushed onto the field. She was breathless, her cheeks pink from either excitement or nerves as she ran straight toward one of the competitors.

A murmur passed through the crowd.

Who was she? What was she doing?

She came to a stop before a young nobleman—a tall, dark-haired archer with sharp green eyes. The moment he turned to her, something shifted in the air.

With trembling hands, she pulled a delicate handkerchief from her sleeve, embroidered with her own initials.

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