Married To Darkness-Chapter 367: A Tense Dinner Of Questions

The dining hall had been filled with the sounds of clinking silverware and quiet conversation until Queen Sansa cleared her throat. A hush fell over the table.

"You hadn’t been in attendance at your sister’s union," she said, her voice smooth but pointed. "Can I know why?"

No one needed to ask who she was speaking to.

Salviana instinctively glanced at Alaric.

She could feel the weight of the question pressing down on him, but he showed no visible reaction. Instead, he took a slow breath before answering.

"It was abrupt," he admitted. "I didn’t know about it until this morning."

The queen’s gaze didn’t waver. "She left heartbroken. You should have been here for her."

Alaric swallowed, setting his fork down. He barely felt guilty, yet hearing it from his mother made it harder to ignore.

Genevieve had been sent away to an unfamiliar place, alone. And where had he been?

"When I can, I will visit her—with my wife," he promised.

The queen nodded but then added, "Enid left with her."

Alaric’s brows lifted slightly. That was unexpected.

Enid and Genevieve had never been particularly close, and Enid wasn’t the type to leave the comforts of the palace for anyone.

"Oh? She wanted that?" he asked.

"Yes. And I cannot express how grateful I am to him," Queen Sansa said, a rare warmth in her tone.

Before the conversation could continue, the king, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.

"Now, let us eat." His deep voice carried a quiet authority, signaling the end of that topic.

The tension at the table settled, and the quiet sounds of dining resumed. Salviana, however, suddenly became aware that the queen’s sharp gaze had shifted to her.

"Salviana," she said, her voice laced with curiosity. "I noticed you’re being rather selective with your food. Are you perhaps... pregnant?"

A pause.

Alaric’s hand froze mid-cut. Lucius raised a brow. Jean looked up so fast she nearly choked.

Salviana? She just stared, unsure whether to laugh or panic.

Salviana felt her stomach tighten at the question. Pregnant?

How could she possibly explain that they hadn’t even had sex since they got married? That her stubborn, selfish vampire of a husband had refused to touch her?

That despite the growing tension between them, he still hadn’t found a way to sneak her into his world the way she desperately wanted?

For a moment, she considered telling the truth—that their marriage was still untouched, that the closest they had gotten was stolen glances and the unbearable heat of longing that neither of them acted on.

Instead, she took a slow breath, schooling her face into a pleasant smile.

"I’m not pregnant," she said lightly. "And we’re not in a hurry."

Across the table, the king’s sister, Diana, scowled. She had always been blunt—too blunt, perhaps.

"Nonsense," Diana said, narrowing her eyes. "You need to be serious about it. You two don’t even look like you do it often."

The room went painfully silent.

Jean, sitting beside her, turned red and coughed into her wine. Lucius smirked, but it was clear he was enjoying the show. Even the queen, who had started the conversation, glanced away, as if pretending not to hear.

But Diana wasn’t finished.

"I need to see the signs of passion written all over both of you," she continued, unimpressed with their reaction. "Don’t disappoint me, Alaric."

Salviana shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t dare look at her husband, but she could feel the tension in his body, the way he had gone completely still beside her.

Alaric said nothing.

Because what could he say? That he loved her but was too afraid to touch her? That he had spent every night lying beside her, wanting her, but too terrified of what would happen if he gave in?

They all thought this was about duty—about producing an heir.

But Alaric knew the truth.

He wasn’t afraid of pregnancy. He had forgotten, really, that it was even a possibility.

He was afraid of killing her.

Because if he lost control, if he let his true nature slip for even a moment, she wouldn’t survive it.

And if, by some miracle, he didn’t kill her... their child would.

Just as he had killed his own mother before he had even taken his first breath.

No.

Alaric wouldn’t allow it.

So he said nothing.

He only wished they would leave.

The air at the dining table was thick with unspoken tension, but the sound of clinking utensils and casual conversation carried on—until a whisper from Irene shattered the fragile peace.

"When do you intend to release my husband?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm.

Salviana barely glanced at her, slicing a delicate piece of meat before answering. "Maybe when you finally confess to lying about my husband pouring hot water on your daughter." She lifted her gaze, her expression unreadable. "Because not only did my husband never go there, but your daughter never incurred a burn."

The entire table fell silent.

"You liar!" Irene hissed, her voice rising with indignation. "How dare you call me a liar? My daughter was scarred!"

Diana rolled her eyes, unimpressed. Jean smirked into her drink.

Salviana, in contrast, remained perfectly composed. She chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, then dabbed the corner of her lips with a napkin before responding.

"I saw her the very next day after your accusation," she said smoothly, setting down her fork. "She was perfectly fine."

Irene paled. Her eyes darted around the table, searching for support. "That’s not true."

"I see you’re still intent on lying," Salviana mused, tilting her head.

"You witch!" Irene spat, her voice trembling with rage.

A dark, low voice cut through the room.

"Watch what you say to my wife," Alaric warned, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

Irene shuddered.

Salviana, unaffected, turned her attention to Audrey—Jaron’s mother, the king’s concubine.

"And when his mother is ready to apologize for being cruel," Salviana continued, her voice softer but no less dangerous, "for releasing hounds on me when I merely asked for assistance... then maybe she can see her son."

Audrey stiffened. Her nostrils flared as she slammed her goblet onto the table.

"You are nobody to demand an apology from me!" she bellowed, her voice echoing through the hall.

Salviana scoffed. Nobody?

She was a princess. A wife.

Audrey, on the other hand, was a side piece. A concubine at best.

Instead of voicing that thought, Salviana smiled coolly and shrugged. "Alright then. Your son is strong. He’ll last."

Audrey’s face turned red with fury. "You—!"

A loud wail erupted from her, but across the table, Lucille, the king’s second concubine and Audrey’s so-called friend, struggled to contain a laugh behind her napkin.

Salviana smirked.

Alaric, ever the one to know when enough was enough, stood and extended his hand toward his wife. "Let’s go, wife."

Salviana took his hand without hesitation, rising gracefully.

With that, they turned and left, leaving the chaos behind.

As they reached the grand entrance of the hall, Alaric suddenly stopped. With a smirk, he turned slightly, addressing the chaotic table behind them.

"Oh, and we’re traveling," he said casually. "So don’t bother looking for us for a few weeks. We won’t be available."

Instantly, a roar of voices erupted—questions flying from every direction.

"Traveling? Where?"

"For how long?"

"Is this about Jaron?"

"You can’t just leave!"

But Alaric and Salviana didn’t bother answering. With elegant indifference, they strode out, leaving the commotion behind.

Outside, as they walked down the castle steps toward their waiting carriage, Jean let out a loud sigh of admiration.

"Salviana," she gushed, gripping her arm dramatically, "you are so cool. I swear, I wish I was your friend."

Salviana blinked before bursting into laughter. "Jean, you’re so dramatic."

Jean pouted. "I mean it! The way you handled them in there? Amazing."

Salviana chuckled and shook her head. "Also... you are my friend. What did you think before?"

Jean suddenly froze, her eyes going wide. Her lip quivered as if she were about to cry. "You really mean that?"

Salviana groaned, rolling her eyes. "Stop."

Jean sniffed exaggeratedly. "I just—"

"Stop it right now."

And then, both women broke into laughter, their arms linked as they walked ahead, their lighthearted energy melting away the tension of the evening.

Meanwhile, a few steps behind, Alaric and Lucius exchanged a glance.

They didn’t know why Salviana thought they were ever releasing Jaron.

Lucius scoffed slightly. "She really thinks we’d let him walk free?"

Alaric’s expression darkened. "There’s no forgiving attempted murder. Or disrespect."

Lucius nodded, watching as Jean and Salviana continued to chat away, oblivious to the weight of their silent conversation.

Jaron had to pay for what he did.

And soon.

They would go there tonight and he’ll regret ever breathing.

He didn’t care what the repercussions will be.

Having forgive the girls who did their evil the other day must have made the others things he was no longer the prince they feared.

He would do anything to make Salviana comfortable.