Married To Darkness-Chapter 360: Come back

Salviana turned to Alaric, her gaze firm. "Leave us," she said softly but decisively besides she knew Jean would prefer if he wasn’t around them hounding.

But then Alaric hesitated, his sharp eyes flickering between her and the closed door. He didn’t like this. He was thinking maybe Salviana just wanted to get rid of him or he was scared of what Jean could say or do to his wife out of anger.

But he nodded once, stepping away. "I’ll be downstairs," he murmured before turning to leave.

Once he was gone, Salviana then took a deep breath and knocked on the door lightly again.

"Jeanette, it’s me," she said, her voice warm and coaxing. "Your friend. Please, talk to me, okay? I miss you."

Silence.

Salviana sighed, leaning her head against the door. "I’ve been so bored since I woke up, and you haven’t been there for me."

Nothing.

She let out a dramatic sigh. "I think I’m going to get depression at this rate."

Seconds passed. Then—

The lock clicked.

The door swung open.

Jean stood there, her face pale, her eyes red-rimmed and wary. Before she could say a word, Salviana smiled and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"You scared me," Salviana muttered against her shoulder sincerly.

Jean sniffled, melting into the hug for a moment before mumbling, "You’re so dramatic." She didn’t think Salviana would react like this.

She even threatened to become depressed. Jean shook her head, her long black hair bouncing.

Salviana pulled back just enough to flick Jean’s forehead lightly. "And you’re so stubborn."

Jean let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Come inside."

They drew out of the hug and shut the door behind them, not knowing the men had heard the little exchange and sighed in relief.

The tension in the air eased, but Salviana knew they still had a lot to talk about.

Inside.

Jean patted the space beside her, silently inviting Salviana to sit. Without hesitation, Salviana climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight as she settled in. Jean hesitated for a moment, her fingers twisting in the sheets, then lifted her gaze.

So Salviana started to say something, "I am complete----"

"Let me go first," she interrupted just as Salviana opened her mouth to speak.

Salviana quieted, watching as Jean took a deep breath, clearly bracing herself.

"I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me the most," Jean said, her voice tight with guilt. "You were abducted because I wasn’t by your side. I couldn’t protect you. And I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through because of it." She swallowed hard, looking down at her lap. "I hope you can forgive me."

Salviana’s expression softened. "So why did you leave me?" she asked quietly.

Jean frowned. "What? I just told you—I felt insignificant. Useless. I let you down."

What?!

Salviana exhaled, shaking her head. "Jean, that’s ridiculous. If anyone should feel guilty, it’s the knights and guards. They’re the ones trained to protect me, not you. You’re my lady-in-waiting, not a bodyguard." She reached for Jean’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You help me live my life smoothly, not throw yourself in front of danger."

Jean’s grip tightened. "Well, I failed to follow you around," she muttered, eyes glassy.

Salviana sighed. "And that still wasn’t your fault."

Jean raised her chin stubbornly. "I failed to follow you around, and because of that, you got hurt."

Salviana exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. "Jean, you need to stop insisting this is your fault."

Jean’s jaw tightened as her chest rose and fell dramatically. "How can I? I was supposed to be there."

Salviana stepped forward, taking Jean’s hands in hers. "You’re my friend, Jean. My companion. Not my bodyguard." Her voice softened. "You being gone didn’t cause what happened. The people who took me did."

Jean bit her lip, her eyes glassy from the threatening to spill tears.

"You being absent didn’t make me weak, and you being present wouldn’t have made me invincible." Salviana squeezed her hands. "But your absence now? That hurts."

Jean swallowed, her fingers tightening around Salviana’s. "I just—" She took a shaky breath. "I should’ve been there."

Salviana pulled her into another hug. "You’re here now. And that’s what matters."

Salviana’s stomach twisted as she took in Jean’s tear-streaked face.

"Please come back," she urged, reaching for her friend’s trembling hands. "And why have you been crying? Did Lucius do something to you?" Her voice was sharp with concern.

Jean shook her head quickly. "No," she whispered.

Salviana exhaled, relieved but still on edge. "Then what happened?" she pressed gently.

Jean hesitated, her breath hitching. "When I left... the coachman and another man, they— they tried to..." Her voice broke, and she trailed off, her body shaking as fresh sobs wracked through her.

Salviana felt her heart drop. Without thinking, she pulled Jean into her arms, holding her tight. "Oh, Jean..." she murmured, stroking her hair. "I’m so sorry."

Jean’s fingers clutched at Salviana’s gown, as if grounding herself. "Lucius saved me," she choked out between sobs. "He killed them."

Salviana’s grip tightened protectively. She closed her eyes, fury simmering beneath her sorrow. "You’re safe now," she whispered. "And I won’t let you go through this alone."

Salviana’s breath hitched. Her grip on Jean tightened as realization dawned.

"They tried to what?" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotions

Jean swallowed hard, shaking her head as fresh tears spilled down her chubby cheeks. "They— they tried to force themselves on me," she choked out, her body trembling.

Salviana’s heart clenched. "Jean..."

Jean let out a shaky sob. "Lucius... he saved me. He killed them."

Salviana’s arms wrapped around her tightly, holding her as if she could shield her from the past. "I’m so sorry," she murmured. "I should have been there."

Jean let out a small, broken laugh. "That’s what I said to you."

Salviana pulled back slightly, brushing Jean’s damp hair away from her face. "You’re coming back with me," she said firmly. "No arguments."

Jean sniffled, nodding weakly. "Okay."

They sat there for a moment, just holding onto each other, letting their shared pain and comfort fill the silence.

After sniffing and crying.

"Come back with us, Jean. You can’t stay here," Salviana said gently.

Jean hesitated, glancing around the dimly lit room as if searching for an excuse. "It’s far from the castle," Salviana added, hoping to convince her.

Jean sighed. "I’ll stay for a while... if you don’t mind."

"Of course I don’t mind," Salviana assured her. "Rest and take your time."

Before Jean could respond, a firm knock sounded at the door.

"Ladies, there’s something you need to see," Lucius’s voice came from outside, laced with urgency.

Salviana and Jean exchanged a glance, blinking in silent question.

"What’s up?" Salviana called back.

Meanwhile,

Wyfn-Garde was alive with movement, a pulsing heart of anticipation. Streets once filled with the familiar rhythm of daily life now hummed with excitement, as news of the impending marriage truce between Wyfn-Garde and Tackeros spread like wildfire.

The markets were packed, vendors calling out their wares louder than usual, hoping to profit from the grand affair.

Seamstresses worked tirelessly, sewing intricate dresses for noble ladies eager to attend the wedding. Jewelers displayed their finest pieces, knowing that a single purchase from a wealthy patron could change their fortune.

Businessmen saw opportunity in the union, preparing lavish imports and special goods to attract the nobility. The entire kingdom was preparing to witness history.

At the castle, the air was thick with urgency. Servants rushed through grand corridors, carrying fresh linens, polished silverware, and extravagant decorations.

The kitchens worked day and night, their fires never dimming, as chefs prepared feasts fit for royalty.

The palace courtyards were filled with rehearsals—musicians fine-tuning their melodies, dancers perfecting their steps, and guards training in ceremonial formations.

Even the children felt the shift. They played in the streets, acting out imaginary royal weddings, pretending to be kings, queens, and noble guests.

Some stood near the castle gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of a foreign dignitary or the betrothed couple themselves.

Everyone was thrilled—except for the ones who were actually getting married.

Behind closed doors, away from the public’s cheerful chatter, the weight of duty pressed down on the bride and groom.

Theirs was not a union of love, but of necessity, a carefully negotiated truce to end years of tension between their warring kingdoms.

They had no choice but to stand at the altar, exchanging vows they never truly wished to make.

And as the kingdom celebrated, they carried their burdens in silence.

They had no choice but to stand at the altar, exchanging vows never truly wished to make.

And as the kingdom celebrated, they carried their burdens in silence.

They had no choice but to stand at the altar, exchanging vows they never truly wished to make.

And as the kingdom celebrated, they carried their burdens in silence.