Married To Darkness
Chapter 306: Winning Two At A Time

Chapter 306: Winning Two At A Time

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

Before anyone could stop her, she reached up and gently tied it around his arm.

A collective gasp swept through the audience.

Someone let out a soft sigh.

Then a swoon.

"Oh, how romantic," a noblewoman whispered, pressing a hand to her chest.

"She gives him her favor before the contest," another murmured.

Alaric, standing among the royals, smirked. "Now the poor bastard has to win, or his pride is doomed."

Beside him, Salviana let out a soft laugh. She had to admit, the moment was charming.

The nobleman receiving the favor lowered his gaze to the girl, a mix of surprise and admiration in his expression.

He reached up, fingers brushing over the handkerchief she had just secured. Then, with a slow, knowing smile, he gave her a nod.

Challenge accepted.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

The herald struck his staff again, bringing the moment to a close. "Let the contest begin!"

And with that, the archers took their places.

Soon,

The archery contest had been fierce. Three rounds of calculated precision, steady hands, and sharp eyes had tested the competitors’ skill, separating the masters from the hopefuls.

Each arrow loosed had carried the weight of silent prayers and unspoken wagers, some finding their mark in the bullseye, others veering off just enough to cost their wielder victory.

By the final round, only two competitors remained: Prince Lucas and the young nobleman adorned with the handkerchief.

Tension crackled in the air. All eyes followed the young man as he took his stance.

He breathed in deep, shoulders relaxing, fingers curling around the bowstring with practiced ease.

The hush that settled over the audience was almost reverent, as if the entire kingdom had drawn its breath in anticipation.

Then—the final arrow flew.

It sliced through the air with deadly grace before striking the target dead center, embedding itself so precisely in the bullseye that it split the previous arrow in half.

For a moment, silence. Then the field erupted in cheers.

The herald raised his arms. "The champion of the archery contest: Lord Price of House Weign!"

Applause rolled through the gathered crowd, noblemen clapping politely while the commoners cheered with wild enthusiasm.

A few disgruntled noble archers muttered under their breath, shaking their heads at their loss, while those who had secretly placed bets on Price exchanged triumphant glances.

As the champion lowered his bow, a blur of blue silk and golden curls rushed toward him.

The girl—the one who had tied the handkerchief around his arm—sprinted onto the field without hesitation, skirts lifted just enough to keep from tripping.

She had been holding her breath the entire time, her heart hammering inside her chest. And now, with the battle won, she felt as though she, too, had conquered something great.

"Jess! What are you doing?!" a voice cried from the crowd, but it was too late.

With a radiant smile, Jess threw her arms around Damian’s shoulders, her momentum nearly knocking him back.

The crowd gasped as the bold young woman pressed her lips to his right then and there, before the entire court.

A stunned silence fell over the field.

Then—shocked murmurs, amused laughter, and delighted gasps.

Some noblewomen pressed their gloved hands over their mouths, scandalized yet utterly enchanted by the scene.

A few older noblemen grumbled about impropriety, but their words were drowned out by the roar of approval from the spectators.

Alaric leaned back in his seat, arching a brow. "Well, well... he won more than just the contest today."

Salviana, watching from her place among the royals, couldn’t help but smile.

There was something refreshing about seeing love and passion so freely displayed in a world of restraint and etiquette.

Damian, for his part, was frozen for a heartbeat. But as the initial shock passed, a slow, delighted grin spread across his face.

His arms wrapped around Jess’s waist, steadying her as he deepened the kiss for just a fraction of a second before pulling back.

"You’ve just made quite the spectacle," he murmured, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Jess, cheeks flushed, shrugged playfully. "You won, didn’t you?"

Another cheer rippled through the audience, solidifying this as the most memorable archery contest the kingdom had seen in years.

As the echoes of cheers and laughter faded from the archery grounds, the herald stepped forward once more, his voice ringing across the twilight-drenched field.

"With the games concluded, we now invite all to the river for the lantern ceremony. May these lights carry our wishes into the heavens, and may fate weave the threads of destiny this night."

A soft murmur rippled through the gathered nobles and guests, excitement mixing with the serene beauty of the moment.

The air was thick with anticipation—not only for the lanterns but for the subtle dance of courtship that would unfold before the night was done.

With linked arms and hushed whispers, the guests began their procession toward Wyfkeep Castle River.

Alaric, ever the observer, kept his gaze drifting over the crowd as he led Salviana toward the water’s edge.

His mind was never entirely at ease, even on a night like this.

Beside him, Salviana glanced at him from the corner of her eye, sensing his ever-present alertness. "Still keeping watch?" she asked softly.

Alaric smirked but didn’t answer. Instead, he looked toward the river, where dozens of floating lanterns awaited.

Jess and Damian had disappeared together, no doubt lost in their own world.

Meanwhile, the young bachelors and maidens of the court subtly maneuvered themselves, placing careful steps near those they wished to catch the attention of.

Tonight was not just about the king’s birthday. It was about the forming of alliances, whispered promises, and maybe—just maybe—true matches of the heart.

At the water’s edge, attendants handed out lanterns, their golden glow reflecting in the rippling current.

Some bore the crest of noble houses, while others remained unmarked, carrying only the silent wishes of those who set them free.

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