Married To Darkness
Chapter 333: Dreams Of Him Throught Blisters

Chapter 333: Dreams Of Him Throught Blisters

He would’ve seen the broken burglary, the unhinged window, the dangerous climb—and he wouldn’t have been merciful. No, he would’ve known what she tried to do. He would’ve tightened the shackles around her freedom—locked her somewhere darker, colder—somewhere without windows at all.

She clenched her jaw.

I was desperate. That wasn’t me.

But it was. For one breath, one terrifying moment, she’d longed for her captor’s presence—because fear did that. It twisted the mind, blurred the lines between enemy and savior.

Now, she wished for something far more useful—a rope.

If only there were ropes scattered about—thick, sturdy ropes she could gather, tie together, and lower herself down the wall properly this time. She imagined it, wild and ridiculous as it was—sneaking out like a thief in the night, slipping away unseen.

But there were no ropes.

Just stone walls, an empty floor, and a ruined dress.

And then—her stomach growled.

A sharp, painful twist deep inside her belly.

She pressed a hand to her midsection, as though she could silence the ache with a simple touch, but it gnawed at her mercilessly.

She was starving.

When was the last time she’d eaten? She couldn’t remember. Hours? A day?

Her throat burned, dry and parched, and she thought of the glasslike bird from before—the one that had struck the magic barrier, as though guiding her to break free. It was gone now, vanished as quickly as it had come. Just like hope.

Salviana let her head fall back against the wall.

Her heart still hadn’t settled—still pounded like a war drum—but her body... her body was spent. There wasn’t an ounce of strength left in her to try anything else right now.

So she sat there, eyes half-lidded, breathing hard.

Waiting.

For what—she didn’t know.

For her captor to return?

For another burst of magic to save her?

For her husband—Alaric—to find her, wherever he was?

Or maybe she was just waiting for the strength to stand again—because no matter how drained she felt...

This wasn’t over.

Her palms stung.

Salviana slowly opened them, letting her gaze settle on the raw, angry blisters blooming across her skin—small, pale circles of broken flesh rubbed raw from the desperate climb. Some had already burst, leaving behind weeping streaks of red, while others throbbed with a dull, pulsing ache.

She flexed her fingers, and a sharp sting shot through her nerves, making her hiss softly.

How was she supposed to climb down again like this?

The absurdity of it made her throat tighten.

She needed a rope. Something—anything—to help her get out of this place without relying on her battered body alone.

Her head fell back against the wall again, and for a moment, the world spun. Hunger gnawed at her stomach like a beast, twisting and biting, and the dryness in her mouth made every swallow feel like sandpaper scraping against her throat.

Her captor hadn’t brought her food—or water—for hours.

Or had it been longer?

Time was a blur.

All she knew was that her limbs felt like lead, her stomach was a hollow pit, and her strength was slipping away faster than she could gather it back.

But she couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop.

Her mind kept circling back to one thing—the rope.

If there was a curtain somewhere, she could rip it into strips and braid them together. Maybe the bedsheets—if there even was a bed in this miserable place. Anything to save herself from having to scale the wall with her torn-up hands again.

She forced herself to sit up straighter, wincing at the tight pull of her dress against her skin. It was ripped now—tattered from her struggle with the burglary and the sharp edges of the window. She tugged at a loose thread near her knee, watching it unravel a little more.

Useless.

It wouldn’t hold her weight.

But maybe there was something else—somewhere in this room—something stronger, something longer.

She just needed to rest for a moment.

Just long enough to stop the world from spinning.

Then she’d search for a way out—blistered hands and all.

Salviana drifted into a restless sleep, her head resting against the cold stone wall, the sting of her blisters a distant throb beneath the weight of her exhaustion.

And then—

She was at the seaside.

The sky was a wide canvas of blue, the air thick with the salty kiss of the ocean, and there was Alaric—her Alaric—standing knee-deep in the water, wrestling with a fish far too large for him to catch.

"Hold still, you slippery beast!" he growled, his dark hair a wild mess from the sea breeze, his shirt clinging to his chest, soaked through.

She couldn’t stop laughing.

It was the kind of laugh that bubbled up from her core, spilling out in bright, carefree bursts. Her stomach hurt from how hard she was laughing, and Alaric—his proud, dignified self—was glaring at the fish as though it had insulted his honor.

He looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes softening the moment they landed on her.

"I’ll catch this damn thing for you if it kills me," he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Salviana only laughed harder.

And then—

She woke up.

Her heart ached in a way that felt both sweet and unbearable. A sad smile pulled at her lips, lingering like the ghost of the dream itself.

She missed him.

Missed him so much she could feel the emptiness echo in her chest.

But the ache was swiftly replaced by a jolt of fear—footsteps.

They were soft at first, then louder—drawing near, steady, certain.

Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. She shot up from the floor, ignoring the sharp sting in her palms, and lunged for the window. The burglary was gone—completely removed—but if he saw that—

He’d know.

Heart pounding, Salviana grasped the window shutters and yanked them shut, biting her lip hard to silence the tiny whimper that escaped when a splinter nicked her finger. She pressed her back against the wall, breath shallow, thoughts racing.

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