Married To Darkness-Chapter 501: Their silent hate

Alaric broke the silence first.

"Let’s go home?" he asked quietly, as though the night itself might object if he spoke too loudly.

"Yes," Salviana whispered.

Her head rested on his shoulder, light but trusting, as if she had finally allowed herself to be held by the moment.

The wind moved gently across the bridge, carrying the scent of water and stone, and above them the stars hung like distant witnesses—steady, patient, unchanged.

Alaric rose slowly, careful not to startle her. He turned toward her and offered his hands. She placed her arms into his without hesitation, and he helped her to her feet, keeping hold of her longer than necessary, unwilling to let the contact end too soon.

When she was standing, he drew her into his chest.

Not tight. Not possessive.

Just close.

They stayed that way for a long while, the world narrowing to the steady rhythm of shared breath. His chin rested lightly against the crown of her head, his fingers spread at her back as though memorizing the shape of her there.

She pressed her forehead into his collarbone, eyes closed, finally allowing herself to be still.

Time softened around them.

Then Salviana shifted.

She drew back just enough to look up at him, her lashes damp, her eyes reflecting the starlight above. For a moment, neither of them moved. Alaric’s hands remained at her waist, thumbs brushing slow, unconscious circles as if afraid she might vanish again.

Her gaze searched his face—quietly, thoroughly—until whatever she was looking for seemed to settle.

She leaned in.

So did he.

Their lips met in a kiss that carried no urgency, no hunger—only feeling. Soft. Lingering. The kind of kiss that held more apology than words, more promise than vows.

Alaric kissed her as though he had all the time in the world, as though nothing existed beyond this fragile closeness.

She sighed into it, a sound so small and human it tightened his chest.

When they finally parted, their foreheads rested together, breath mingling, hearts steadying at the same pace.

Home no longer felt far away.

It was already here—between them.

They rode hard along the safe road, the night air tearing past them as the castle lights slowly rose in the distance. Salviana sat in front of him, Alaric’s arm firm around her middle, steadying both her and himself. The rhythm of the horse’s hooves was grounding—real, present, undeniable.

As they neared the gates, a cluster of knights stood at ease, armor glinting faintly beneath the torches. They straightened at once when they recognized him.

"My prince," one greeted, fist to chest. Others followed, respectful, even eager.

Alaric inclined his head briefly, nothing more. He urged the horse forward.

They had barely passed when his sharpened hearing caught the whispers slipping loose behind them, careless and foolish.

"He got lucky," one muttered.

"Or he’s a demon," another said, half in jest, half not.

Alaric’s jaw tightened.

"How could someone wanted dead or alive suddenly be welcomed like this?" a third voice whispered. "I’m telling you, he must’ve threatened the king."

"No—no," another argued. "The king listens to the first prince. The new first prince. What’s his name again?"

The others hummed in agreement

"He has power," someone said softly. "He must’ve spoken for the third prince. That’s the only explanation."

The murmurs tangled together, ignorant of how clearly every word carried. "I still don’t trust that prince"

"He might snap someday and we’d be ready"

Alaric’s arm tightened around Salviana before he could stop himself. For a split second, violence flashed bright and tempting in his mind—how easy it would be to turn back, to silence them permanently. His fingers flexed.

But Salviana shifted slightly, sensing the tension. She didn’t turn. She didn’t ask.

She simply leaned back into him.

The gesture was small. Trusting. Enough.

Alaric exhaled slowly and kept riding.

They passed fully through the gates, stone walls swallowing the whispers behind them. The castle loomed close now, familiar and heavy with history. At the stable entrance, Alaric swung down first, boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. He turned immediately and lifted Salviana down with care, hands firm at her waist until her feet were steady.

"Let’s go inside," he said quietly.

She didn’t answer at once. Instead, she reached up.

Her fingers brushed his cheek, warm against skin gone too tense. She looked into his eyes—really looked—and whatever she saw there made her expression soften.

"I believe you," she said simply.

The words struck deeper than any defense he could have made.

Alaric covered her hand with his own, closing his eyes for a brief moment before pressing his forehead to hers. When he pulled back, the tightness in his chest had eased, just a little.

They walked inside hand in hand, leaving the night, the rumors, and the poison of whispered doubt outside the castle doors.

When they reached their chambers, the corridor lights were already lit, warm and welcoming against the stone. The doors stood open—and inside, familiar faces waited.

Thalia was the first to notice them. Her face brightened instantly.

"You’re back," she said with a relieved smile.

Sarah and Emma followed, dipping into quick, respectful bows, while Simon straightened from where he had been leaning near the window, hands clasped behind his back like a dutiful guard. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Heappal stood near the far wall, armor loosened but posture still rigid, and beside him Sebastian lingered in quiet calm, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of the couple’s expressions.

"Welcome home, my lord. My lady," Sebastian said evenly.

"There were concerned," Heappal added gruffly. "You were gone longer than expected."

Alaric gave a brief nod. "All is well."

Salviana echoed it with a soft smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Their replies were simple, measured—enough to ease worry without inviting questions. Emma noticed the way Salviana’s fingers remained threaded through Alaric’s, how his thumb brushed her knuckles in a silent, protective rhythm.

Whatever had happened beyond the gates had followed them back, but it had not broken them.

"Would you like anything?" Thalia asked gently. "Tea? A change of clothes?"

"Not tonight," Alaric said. "We’ll rest."

The staff understood immediately. Simon opened the inner doors, stepping aside, while Sarah and Emma bowed once more.

One by one, they withdrew, careful and respectful, leaving only the quiet glow of the chamber behind.

Alaric guided Salviana inside, closing the door softly after them.