Married To Darkness
Chapter 327: A Trip To Jaron’s

Chapter 327: A Trip To Jaron’s

"Please. If Salviana ran off, it’s hardly his fault. Why would he want anything to do with your charming wife?"

Alaric’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t spare her a glance. His focus remained locked on Irene.

Lucas, Jaron’s younger brother, stood hastily. "Alaric, I think you’re overreacting. This isn’t the time to point fingers. We’re all worried about Salviana—"

"Are you?" Alaric’s voice lowered, a dangerous edge to his words. His knuckles whitened at his sides. "Because the only people not here this morning are your brother and Warren. Convenient, isn’t it?"

Lawrence, the king’s brother and Warren’s father, bristled. "Warren left to fetch a witch doctor for Rose. You know this, Alaric."

"Yes," Alaric said, his tone still cold. "But what about Jaron? Where is he?"

The question hovered in the air like smoke.

"Sleeping," Irene repeated, though her voice cracked—just a fraction.

Across the table, Abigail, another princess, furrowed her brow. "Then why does it sound like you’re lying?"

A ripple of tension spread.

The younger children, oblivious to the storm of accusations swirling above them, giggled and whispered among themselves, one of them—little Prince Elian—leaning over to his cousin.

"Uncle Third Prince looks scary," he whispered with a grin. "Maybe he’s going to break something again."

A maid rushed forward, her smile strained, as she gently took Elian by the arm. "Come along now, Your Highness. Time for your lesson with the governess."

One by one, the younger royals were plucked from their seats, their giggles and whispers trailing behind them as the maids led them away.

But the adults remained rooted to the spot.

"Let’s go," Alaric finally said, his voice slicing through the quiet.

He stepped away from the table, Lucius trailing behind him with his umbrella, and Samion a few steps back—his suspicious gaze flickering from Lucius to Irene.

Irene swallowed.

Lucas hesitated.

But Alaric didn’t.

He strode toward the hall, not caring whether they followed.

He was going to find Jaron.

And if this was his doing—

He would tear him apart.

The hallway was a long stretch of polished stone, its towering windows letting in streams of unforgiving sunlight. The castle felt too quiet—like the walls themselves were holding their breath. Every step echoed, every whisper of their cloaks against the floor sounded louder than it should have.

Alaric’s mind burned with thoughts of her.

Was Salviana hungry? Thirsty? Had she slept at all?

No, she wouldn’t have. She was probably still fighting—because that’s what she did. Even when it wasn’t the smart choice, she fought.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles working as the fear twisted deeper inside him. He didn’t want her to fight this time. He wanted her to stay still, to wait for him—because if she struggled too much, what if—

His stomach knotted.

The sound of footsteps behind him—Lucas and Irene—felt distant. Samion walked beside him, his hand resting too close to the hilt of his sword, though his sharp gaze kept flickering to Lucius.

Lucius.

The man in black was practically scurrying ahead, his umbrella tilted awkwardly as he rushed from one shadowed corner of the hall to another. When the path forced him into the open sun for more than a few seconds, Lucius hissed softly under his breath, his pace quickening, until he found another patch of shade.

Alaric almost—almost—smiled at the sight.

It was absurd, really. This man who seemed carved from shadow itself, cloaked in mystery and magic, darting through sunlight like a startled cat.

But the fleeting amusement vanished almost instantly.

Because Salviana wasn’t here.

And she was probably suffering.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

He wanted to scream—rip the castle apart stone by stone if he had to—but he couldn’t lose control. Not yet. Not now.

Irene’s nervous breathing filled the silence. She fidgeted, twisting the ring on her finger, her pace hesitant.

"Relax, Irene," Alaric said without looking back. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. "Unless you have a reason not to."

Irene flinched. "I told you—he’s in his room. Sleeping."

"We’ll see," Alaric said.

Lucas opened his mouth—maybe to defend his brother—but Samion shot him a look that shut him up instantly.

The hall stretched on, every step dragging them closer to Jaron’s chambers.

And with every step, the storm inside Alaric grew.

Because this wasn’t just about finding Jaron.

It was about finding Salviana.

Before it was too late.

Then they finally reached.

The maid’s greeting was a faint hum in the background, barely registering in Alaric’s mind. His entire focus was on Jaron’s chamber doors—the heavy, polished wood standing between him and the truth.

Before he could say a word, Irene rushed forward, her voice a little too high, a little too eager.

"I’ll fetch him," she said, darting inside without another glance.

Alaric’s jaw tightened. Convenient.

The door closed behind her, and the silence that followed was a thick, suffocating thing.

Lucius shifted beside him, his umbrella casting an exaggerated shadow over his face. Samion’s hand still hovered close to his sword, his knuckles white.

A moment passed. Too long of a moment.

Alaric’s patience was hanging by a thread—one that snapped the second he stepped forward, about to storm into the room himself.

Then—

BRRAAAM!

The sound of a trumpet. Loud, jarring, unmistakable.

It was the sound of intruders.

Then came the bells—deep, resonant clangs that echoed through the castle halls, striking a rhythm of alarm.

Alaric froze, his heart thudding once before kicking into a violent pace.

Within seconds, a knight and a guard rushed down the hall, their boots slamming against the stone floor.

"My lord," the knight said, out of breath but steady. "The Tackeros Kingdom has breached the outer gates."

Alaric’s stomach dropped. Tackeros.

"And?" His voice was low, dangerously calm, though his mind was anything but. "Are we under attack?"

The guard shook his head. "No, my lord. They haven’t drawn weapons. They—they say they wish to talk."

Alaric’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. Talk?

No kingdom breached another’s gates just to talk.

Unless—

Unless they weren’t here for war. Unless this was about her.

Salviana.

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