Married To Darkness
Chapter 308: Stroll For Serenity

Chapter 308: Stroll For Serenity

Salviana needed air so she stepped out of the birthday hall, the noise was so intense she felt her thoughts colliding and her anxiety tripling so she slicked out.

The corridor stretched before her, long and dimly lit, the golden glow of torches flickering against the polished stone walls.

Salviana’s heels clicked softly against the marble, the weight of her gown trailing behind her like a restless shadow.

The air was cooler here, away from the heat and noise of the grand hall, yet it did little to ease the discomfort pressing at the back of her mind.

Guards and maids paused as she passed, bowing respectfully.

She acknowledged them with a small nod, but her thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in an unsettling haze of unease.

Then, a rush of movement.

"Your Grace!"

A knight strode toward her, his armor gleaming under the torchlight. Sir Samion.

He stopped a few steps away, his brow furrowed with concern. "Where are you going?"

His voice was steady but laced with curiosity—perhaps even a hint of worry.

Salviana exhaled slowly, pushing back the discomfort creeping along her spine. She didn’t want to be fussed over.

"I’m only taking a stroll, Samion," she said gently, offering him a small, reassuring smile. "You needn’t trouble yourself."

The knight hesitated, clearly uncertain, but he eventually nodded. "Very well, Your Grace. But if you need anything..."

"I’ll be fine," she assured him before continuing her walk.

Yet, the weight in her chest remained.

The further she went, the quieter the world became. The torches flickered.

The corridor stretched. And her thoughts wandered.

Something felt... off.

It wasn’t something she could name—not a specific fear, not a memory tugging at the edges of her mind.

Just a feeling. A murky sense of unease.

The walls of the castle, usually a sanctuary, now felt strangely confining.

The very air seemed heavy, thick with something unspoken.

She inhaled deeply, willing herself to shake it off. It was nothing.

Just the weight of the long night, the endless greetings, the overwhelming noise of celebration.

She had no reason to trouble Alaric with this—he had been in good spirits, laughing, drinking, entertaining noble guests.

She didn’t want to dampen that with her own inexplicable unrest.

"I’ll feel better soon," she told herself.

Perhaps she just needed fresh air. Stargazing, maybe. A quiet moment by the lake.

Yes. That would clear her mind. Wouldn’t it?

Salviana slowed her steps, glancing at Samion as a thought crossed her mind.

"Is there a lake here?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost as if she were unsure whether she truly wanted to know.

The knight hesitated for a beat before answering. "There are only two, Your Grace. One is the dark and forbidden lake."

At those words, her mind pulled her back to her first morning here—the cold mist curling over the water, the eerie stillness, and Alaric standing beside her, watching her with those unreadable eyes.

She shivered, not from the night air but from the memory itself.

That morning, she had been trapped in uncertainty, bound to a man she had not chosen. Yet, in his delusional heart, he had believed she was his from the start.

But now...

Now, she would choose him. Over and over.

A small smile touched her lips before she caught herself, shaking off the warmth creeping into her chest.

Samion, unaware of her thoughts, continued. "The second lake is by the Queen’s chambers."

Her smile faded instantly.

Her stomach turned at the mention of that place. The last time she had gone that way... she had been poisoned.

The mere thought made her fingers curl against the fabric of her dress. The phantom sensation of weakness, of betrayal, of that slow, sinking dread clawed at the edges of her mind.

No.

She wouldn’t go there. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Her shoulders tensed before she exhaled, smoothing out the unease.

"The air here will do just fine," she murmured, more to herself than to Samion.

The knight simply nodded, standing a few steps away, ever watchful.

The corridors stretched before her, quiet and vast. But even in the silence, her past and present warred within her.

Samion continued to stroll a few steps behind, his presence a quiet reassurance.

Salviana didn’t mind it—if anything, she appreciated his watchful nature. But she also knew how Alaric could be when it came to her.

Possessive. Protective. Obsessively alert.

If he noticed she was missing from the hall, he’d turn the entire castle upside down looking for her.

She stopped walking, turning slightly to glance at Samion.

"Go and tell Alaric that I’ll be heading back to our chambers," she said. "I’m done here."

Samion frowned. "Your Grace, are you certain? I don’t—"

"There are other guards nearby," she interrupted gently. "I’ll be fine. I just don’t want Alaric to worry over nothing."

He hesitated, glancing down the corridor as if debating whether he should truly leave her alone.

But Salviana’s expression was calm, unwavering.

Finally, Samion sighed. "Very well. I’ll inform him."

With one last nod of caution, he turned and strode back toward the banquet hall, his footsteps echoing into the distance.

Salviana let out a slow breath and resumed her walk. The corridor stretched ahead, long and empty, moonlight casting silver ribbons across the stone floor.

She didn’t notice the presence lurking behind the pillars.

The faintest shift of shadows.

A pair of eyes—cold, calculating, watching.

Back in the hall, Alaric’s heart was in trouble.

Where was she?

His jaw clenched as his eyes darted around the hall. The music played on, the nobles were still engaged in conversation, and laughter echoed off the high ceilings.

But none of it mattered.

She was gone.

His wife—his Salviana—was missing.

Alaric stood abruptly, the scrape of his chair against the floor causing a few heads to turn. His heart pounded against his ribs, and a dark sort of restlessness crawled under his skin.

She left without telling him?

The thought made something hot and sharp rise in his throat.

Jean was nearby, laughing softly at something Lucius had said, but Alaric barely saw her before his patience snapped.

"Jean." His voice was quiet, but lethal.

She flinched, immediately stiffening at the cold steel in his tone.

"Your Grace?" she answered cautiously, already sensing the storm brewing in his gaze.

"Where is Salviana?"

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.