Married To Darkness-Chapter 392: His First Taste Of Food

Then, steadying her breath, she turned and climbed the stairs.

Each step felt like a drumbeat.

She reached the small room where Alaric still lay curled under a thin blanket, his brow furrowed, his mouth parted. Even in sleep, there was strain in his jaw, a tightness around his eyes. He was fighting something even in dreams.

She sat beside him, brushing her hand against his temple. He stirred at last, eyes fluttering open,red-flecked and shadowed. He frowned.

"Good morning," she whispered, leaning down to press her lips to his brow.

He groaned. "You’re up early."

"I made breakfast."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "You cooked?"

She smirked. "Don’t sound so surprised."

She handed him the plate, her heart hammering.

He took it slowly, glancing down at the steaming food. For a moment he didn’t move.

Then, he took a bite.

And paused. He frowned.

She watched him with the careful, silent attention of a priestess watching prophecy unfold.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t gag. Instead, he swallowed,and breathed. A long, deep breath like a man surfacing from the bottom of the ocean.

Alaric blinked.

Then he took another bite.

Salviana exhaled. Relief, guilt, and love tangled in her chest.

It was working.

He didn’t know it yet. He might never realize what she’d done.

But he’d feel it. The strength, the warmth returning. Her blood sang in him, quiet and powerful.

"You okay?" she asked softly, pretending to sip from her own bowl.

Alaric nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I think I am."

She smiled, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear.

They would sail by noon. Toward pirates, toward danger, toward whatever the sea held next.

But for now, Salviana watched him eat,watched life slowly return to his eyes,and held her secret close like a prayer.

Alaric paused halfway through his second bite, his fork still hovering mid-air. His brows furrowed. Then they lifted.

He blinked.

He turned to Salviana, slowly, as if the world had shifted beneath his feet.

"Wait..." he murmured, his voice thick. "Wait–Sal..."

She stilled, holding her breath. "What is it?"

He stared down at the plate again, then back up at her, wonder blooming in his eyes like the first break of dawn.

"I can taste it," he whispered.

Her heart skipped a beat. "What?"

His voice grew louder, more astonished. "I can taste it! Salviana...I can taste it!"

He dropped the fork with a clatter and ran both hands through his hair, nearly laughing. "The fish, it’s smoky, and there’s this... this tang. Lemon? No,sea salt and something sweet,gods, there’s rosemary in this!"

Salviana’s lip trembled. She looked at him as tears welled in her eyes. He was glowing. Not literally, but in that way only someone truly happy does,his skin alive with warmth, his smile wide, boyish, awed.

He looked like the Alaric she met in dreams, and she was happy she caused this excitement.

"It’s so..." He shook his head, overwhelmed. "The heat, the spice, I’ve never, I didn’t think I’d ever," His voice broke.

Salviana couldn’t stop it anymore.

The tears fell, soft and silent.

"You’re crying?" he asked, suddenly concerned, reaching out to touch her cheek. "Sal... why are you crying?"

She just laughed through her tears and shook her head. "Because you’re tasting it, you fool. You’re living it. And I–" Her words caught in her throat.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him, long and tender, her lips trembling against his. He melted into her, tasting more than just food now. He tasted life. Warmth. Her.

When she pulled away, she cupped his face, brushing his cheek with her thumb.

"Eat more," she said softly, almost pleading. "Please. Just eat more."

"You’ll cook for me again," Alaric said softly, he now believed he could taste the food because she made it.

"Of course, eat,"

He didn’t hesitate this time. He picked up the fork and devoured the meal, laughing between bites, groaning at the flavors like he was drunk on delight.

She watched, pressing her palm to her chest as her heart swelled.

This,this,was worth every secret she’d ever keep.

He didn’t know it yet. Didn’t know her blood had woven its way into the spices, into the soul of that dish. But she’d do it again. A hundred times over.

If it meant seeing him like this, tasting the world, laughing like a man who had never known hunger in his veins,then she’d bleed for him every morning.

Love wasn’t just a kiss in the dark or a promise on a mountaintop.

Sometimes it was quiet. Sometimes it was hidden.

Sometimes, it was the soft squeeze of a finger, and the salt of tears mixing with joy as he tasted breakfast for the first time in his life.

This was love.

And she’d carry it for both of them.

Soon after breakfast, as sunlight spilled like melted gold through the window slats, Jess and her mother arrived bearing armfuls of garments,rich fabrics, leather straps, gleaming buckles, and embroidered scarves. The scent of salt and dried herbs clung to the pirate attire like a second skin.

"Alright," Jess beamed, holding up a striking coat, "you’ll all need to look the part if you’re planning to meet pirates without getting your throats slit."

They took turns dressing in the cozy backroom, laughter bouncing off the wooden walls, the morning feeling lighter than any they’d had in days.

When Salviana stepped out, the room quieted.

Her outfit was a symphony of elegant rebellion,fitted, functional, and devastatingly beautiful. She wore a crisp, off-white blouse with billowy sleeves that stopped at her wrists, cinched by leather cuffs.

A brown leather underbust corset jacket hugged her waist, etched with golden embroidery in wave-like swirls. Her trousers were rugged, deep-brown slacks tucked into weathered boots that laced up to her knees. Around her hips, a utility belt dangled, complete with a sheathed dagger and a pouch of coins.