Married To Darkness
Chapter 311: Darkest Thoughts

Chapter 311: Darkest Thoughts

"My wife..."

Emma’s brows lifted just slightly. "The princess? What about her?"

His fingers twitched. "I can’t find her."

A pause. Then, in that steady, almost knowing way of hers, Emma hummed thoughtfully.

"Maybe she is still on her way to you."

He smiled. Poetry.

Emma bowed and left.

Alaric barely registered Emma’s words at first, his mind still a storm of uncertainty. But then, like a candle flickering in the dark, the meaning settled in.

"Maybe she was still on her way to you."

His head snapped toward the chambermaid, his sharp gaze locking onto her calm expression.

The walk.

The distance between the grand hall and their chambers was considerable—too far for someone to arrive so quickly unless they took the royal carriage. But Salviana...

She had wanted fresh air.

If she had chosen to walk, then—

His stomach twisted.

"I was too hasty."

Alaric exhaled sharply, his panic shifting into something more controlled, more focused. He had let his emotions blind him, let his fears dictate his actions.

He hadn’t sensed her here because she wasn’t here.

She was still outside.

With a curse, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his long coat billowing behind him. His pulse pounded in his ears, but this time it wasn’t from dread—it was from urgency.

"I let my own demons cloud my judgment. I should have thought—should have trusted her."

But there was no time for regret now.

He had to find her.

The halls blurred past him as he moved, ignoring the startled bows and murmurs of servants stepping aside. He didn’t care how it looked—his only focus was reaching her.

His jaw clenched.

She was out there alone.

And something—

"No." He forced the thought down before it could fully form.

He wouldn’t let his paranoia spiral again.

Salviana was strong. She wasn’t helpless. And yet...

His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as he reached the courtyard, stepping into the cool night air.

He prayed he wasn’t too late.

Alaric forced himself to walk instead of teleporting, though every instinct screamed at him to abandon restraint.

His heart pounded furiously, a wild rhythm in his chest, his breath coming quicker with every step.

He had to find her.

He had to see her, hold her, tell her—tell her what?

That he missed her already? That he had been a fool for not following her the moment she left the hall?

That every passing second without her presence was an unbearable eternity?

He stalked down the corridors, his sharp blue gaze sweeping every corner, every shadow, searching for even the faintest trace of her.

"Where is she?" he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching as he approached the first group of maids he encountered.

They froze at his sudden presence, wide-eyed, before scrambling into curtsies.

"Your Grace," one of them stammered, "t-the princess?"

"Yes," Alaric snapped, then forced himself to soften his tone. "Did you see her? Did she come this way?"

The maids exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering in their expressions.

"No, Your Grace... we haven’t seen her."

His stomach twisted.

He turned away, faster now, his steps growing more urgent.

He passed through the archways leading to the open courtyard, the cool night air biting against his skin, but he barely felt it.

He stopped every few paces, grabbing guards by the arm, his voice sharp and demanding.

"Did she come this way?"

"The princess?" The guards hesitated, thrown off by his intensity.

Alaric growled. "Yes, my wife. Where is she?"

They shook their heads, looking both confused and increasingly nervous.

The unease in his gut twisted into something darker.

She should be here by now.

He pushed forward, faster, his stride growing long and almost frantic, his hands clenched at his sides. He was near the grand hall now—so close—but still no sign of her.

No, no, no.

The fear clawed at him now, sharp and relentless, lodging itself in his throat.

And then—

A flicker of movement ahead.

His guards.

Jaefel. Samion. Heappal.

The three of them stood at the entrance to the grand hall, speaking in low tones. But the moment they caught sight of him, their expressions stiffened, their backs straightening.

Where is she?

Alaric’s breath came hard and fast as he neared them.

His very presence seemed to send a shudder through the air, and as he closed the distance, the nearby servants and nobles instinctively stepped back, scurrying out of his way.

Jaefel was the first to speak, his voice tight. "Your Grace..."

Alaric barely let him finish. "Where is my wife?"

A heavy silence. The guards exchanged uneasy glances.

That was when Alaric realized—

They were scared.

Not of him.

Of what they might have to tell him.

His stomach dropped.

His patience snapped. "Where is Salviana?"

Jaefel swallowed hard. "She—she left for your chambers, Your Grace."

Alaric’s hands curled into fists. "And?"

Jaefel hesitated. "...She should have arrived by now."

The world around him blurred.

She should have arrived by now.

She wasn’t here.

She wasn’t in their chambers.

She wasn’t anywhere.

Alaric exhaled sharply, his fury barely contained. He could feel the fear radiating from the guards, the way they stiffened, the way they awaited his inevitable wrath.

But he didn’t care about any of that.

He only cared about her.

And she was missing.

No.

Alaric’s voice echoed, sharp and raw.

"She isn’t in her chambers."

The words came out like a wail, torn from his chest, filled with something deeper than frustration—something close to terror. His fists clenched at his sides, his breathing ragged. The night had darkened further, the sky swallowing every trace of the moon and stars, leaving only the dim, flickering candlelight of the torches along the castle walls.

The air felt thick. Suffocating.

He stood frozen for a moment, listening—straining—for something, anything. But there was nothing.

Only silence.

A shiver of dread ran down his spine.

Then, suddenly, footsteps.

Lucius and Jean had reached them, both out of breath.

Jean took one look at Alaric’s face and blurted, "We still can’t find her"

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