Married To Darkness-Chapter 380: Taking Revenge & Taking Precaution

The guards scrambled after her.

The king was deathly pale as he stumbled after them, his trembling fingers barely catching the torch as a guard thrust it into his hands.

Irene could barely see past her own tears as she gripped Jace’s arm and dragged him with her, the sound of their own frantic breathing filling the corridor.

By the time they reached the main hall of the castle, the whispers had already begun.

"The bodies..." one guard muttered, breathless. "Those marks... what kind of creature does that?"

"Dark magic," another murmured. "A curse, perhaps?"

The king, still pale and shaken, could only shake his head, his lips moving but forming no words.

And then—

Audrey turned sharply, her emerald eyes blazing as she pointed a single accusatory finger.

"The witch."

Gasps rippled through the hall.

"Salviana," she hissed, her voice carrying. "She must have done this. She must have used them for something."

The king swallowed thickly. "You don’t—"

"Who else?" Audrey cut in, her voice dripping with venom. "You saw what was down there. What else could have caused this? That woman—that sorceress—walked into our home like an innocent, but she is not. She is a witch! And her husband... he is not human!"

The murmurs grew louder.

"She bewitched Lord Alaric," a noblewoman whispered.

"I heard she speaks with spirits," someone added, eyes darting nervously.

"Monsters, both of them."

Irene’s sobs turned into something raw, something furious.

At that moment, Jaron’s children—John and his two younger sisters—rushed into the hall.

"Where is our father?" John demanded, his voice unsteady.

Audrey turned to face them, and before anyone could stop her, she delivered the most damning words of all.

"He is dead because of Alaric and his wife."

Gasps.

John’s face twisted in horror. "No. That’s not true. That’s not true!"

Audrey stepped forward, towering over him. "Your father was locked away because of them. And now look what has happened. He is drained dry like a carcass, like the others. And do you know what that means?"

The boy shook his head, his lips trembling.

Audrey’s voice dropped to a whisper. "It means they drink blood."

John let out a strangled noise, taking a step back, but the whispers were already spreading.

Alaric. Salviana. Blood. The dead.

Irene, still shaking, turned to Jace. Her eyes were bloodshot, but her voice was steady now. Cold. Calculating.

"We have to get revenge."

Jace tensed. His fists clenched at his sides. "And how exactly do you suggest we do that? Alaric—"

"We can’t touch him," Irene cut in, her voice bitter. "But we can take everyone he left behind."

The king, who had been listening in silence, finally looked up at them, his expression unreadable.

Jace frowned. "You mean—"

"His wife cares about them," Irene murmured. "His knights. His maids. His servants. They are his people. And if we take them down, it will break her."

Jace hesitated, glancing at the king. "Us?"

The king let out a tired breath.

"He doesn’t care about us," Jace muttered.

"But his wife does," Irene insisted. "And if we take away everything they hold dear... we will make them suffer."

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Meanwhile,

The dim candlelight flickered against the stone walls of the servants’ quarters, casting wavering shadows over the three women seated on the single rickety bed. The storm outside had died down to a soft drizzle, the scent of rain seeping into the damp room.

"I still can’t believe it," Sarah huffed, pacing with her arms crossed. "Jaron actually got what he deserved. And now they’re accusing Lord Alaric and Lady Salviana? It’s madness."

"He tried to kill her," Thalia said, shaking her head. "And yet, people act like he was some kind of saint. If our Lord and Lady did kill him, then good. It’s justice."

Emma sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the candle’s small flame, her fingers twitching against her lap. She had been silent for most of the conversation, her mind elsewhere.

"Emma?" Thalia nudged her.

Emma finally looked up, hesitating before speaking. "I don’t like what’s happening. The way the rumors are spreading. The way people are looking at us now, just because we serve them."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Let them look. What can they do?"

Emma hesitated before whispering, "More than you think."

The room fell silent.

Thalia exhaled slowly. "Let’s eat and rest. Maybe this storm will wash away all this nonsense by morning."

They shared a simple meal of bread and soup before preparing for bed, but as Thalia climbed onto the bed and Sarah stretched out on the floor, Emma spoke up again.

"Dress properly before you sleep."

Sarah groaned, rolling onto her stomach. "Emma, what? It’s raining. No one’s going anywhere."

Thalia gave her a puzzled look. "You’re acting strange."

"Please," Emma whispered. "Just do it."

Something in her voice made them pause. Sarah frowned but sat up. "Fine. But you owe me an explanation in the morning."

It was cold, after all, with the rain still tapping softly against the wooden shutters. They put on their dresses and boots before lying down, Emma feeling a tightness in her chest that she couldn’t explain.

And then—

A knock.

Loud. Firm. Unrelenting.

Emma’s eyes flew open. She turned sharply, her pulse hammering in her ears.

Sarah groaned. "What the hell—"

"Wake up." Emma’s voice was urgent as she shook Thalia. "Get up. Now."

Thalia blinked sleepily, but when she saw Emma’s wide, panicked eyes, she obeyed.

Sarah sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Who is knocking at this hour?"

Emma didn’t answer. Instead, she tiptoed toward the small table in the corner, where a rusty rake leaned against the wall. She grabbed it and handed a shovel to Thalia, then a cutlass to Sarah.

Sarah stared at the weapon in disbelief. "What—why?"

Emma’s voice was barely above a whisper. "I had a feeling they might do something to us."

Thalia tightened her grip on the shovel. "Who is ’they’?"

Emma’s eyes darted to the door, where the knocking had stopped, leaving only an eerie silence behind. She had a terrible, terrible feeling.

Sarah’s grip on the cutlass tightened. "What do we do?"

"We have to fight," Emma whispered. "If they break the door down, we lose the upper hand."

Thalia’s breathing quickened. "Then should we open it first?"

Sarah frowned. "Absolutely not."

"We have to," Emma insisted. "If they break it down, we’ll be at a disadvantage."

The three women exchanged a look, their fear reflected in each other’s eyes.

Then—

Sarah exhaled sharply. "Fine." She positioned herself behind the door. "On my mark, I’ll swing it open, and Thalia, you—"

Thalia was already gripping the shovel, her muscles tensed.

Sarah yanked the door open.

Thalia lunged forward with a scream.

And then—

She was caught like a doll.

A strong hand snatched her mid-air, effortlessly halting her attack.

Knight Heappal.

His grip was unyielding, his expression unreadable as he held her effortlessly, the way a hero in a romance book might seize a wayward maiden.

She almost swooned, she did sigh, except this wasn’t a romance and it was the middle of the night and she wondered what they were doing here!.

Thalia stumbled slightly as Heappal helped her regain her footing, her heart still hammering from the sudden confrontation. She shot him a sharp look, her grip tightening around the shovel.

"Heappal, what’s happening?" she demanded, her voice laced with confusion and urgency.

Before he could answer, another voice spoke from behind him.

"Let us in."

The deep, familiar voice belonged to Samion, another of Alaric and Salviana’s knights. Beside him stood Jaefel, his sharp gaze scanning the room, and the weight of tension in the air was palpable.

Jaefel’s eyes landed on Emma, and something flickered across his face—shock, relief, maybe even something deeper.

"Emma..." he exhaled, stepping forward as though he had found something he hadn’t dared hope for.

Before she could react, he reached out, gently prying the makeshift weapon from her fingers. He let it drop to the ground and then, without hesitation, pulled her into a firm embrace.

Emma stiffened at first, but then, despite her resolve to be strong, she melted into the warmth of his arms.

"Jaefel," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I was so scared."

"I know," he murmured against her hair. "But I won’t let anything happen to you."

Sarah peeked out from behind the door and smirked. "Emma, you’re so cool."

Samion, standing just a few feet away, leaned slightly toward her. "Sarah, you’re cooler," he whispered, his voice playful yet earnest.

Sarah turned to him, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Samion replied with an easy grin, but the way the others exchanged knowing glances made him clear his throat awkwardly.

"Alright," Thalia cut in, rubbing her forehead. "As much as I enjoy this little moment—what the hell are you all doing here?!"

Heappal’s jaw tensed, and the casual air dissipated instantly. His voice was dark, urgent. "We need to run."

Run?