Married To Darkness-Chapter 390: Dressing Like A Pirate

"Sit anywhere you like."

The royals exchanged hesitant glances—Alaric grumbling under his breath, Jean eyeing a sea-worn tapestry that hung askew above the hearth—but they all took their places.

Lucius chose a spot near the window, watching the sea like it would reveal answers through the mist.

Salviana sat beside him, her scarlet hair catching the last strands of evening light.

Jean lounged near the fireplace, her boots casually kicked off, while Alaric leaned against the wall, arms crossed but alert.

Meanwhile, Jess pulled her mother gently aside, just beyond the thin kitchen partition.

The two women whispered in hushed tones, but the tension between them was clear from across the room.

"She’s the one," Jess murmured, barely audible. "The woman with the red hair—that’s her."

Her mother blinked. "The one from the castle?"

Jess nodded. "Yes, mother, the seventh princess," she looked ashamed.

"I gave her the drink. The poisoned one. I didn’t know—as I told you before,"

Jess mother nodded.

"But... she didn’t have me punished. She gave me a second chance. She—she saved me." Jess explained.

The older woman’s face turned pale, then pink with a hundred emotions—shock, worry, reverence.

Her eyes drifted to Salviana, who sat with her chin propped in one hand, studying the glint of sea glass in a bowl.

A royal. A princess. poisoned yet... human enough to spare a girl like Jess.

Without another word, the woman nodded. Then she turned and rolled up her sleeves.

Within moments, the cozy kitchen burst to life. Pots clanged. Wood crackled beneath an iron stove.

The air filled with the smell of lemon, charred herbs, and fish oil.

The mother hummed an old tune as she began preparing a feast not for customers, but for royalty. There was pride in her movements, and a quiet gratitude too.

To keep her guests occupied, she slid a small wooden box onto the table with a crooked grin. "A game," she said with a wink. "One we play during storms."

Inside were smooth, polished stones—each painted with an old sailor’s symbol. A sun. A fishhook. A compass rose. A heart with waves crashing through it.

Jess helped explain the rules as they passed the stones around, matching symbols and trading stories—short, strange riddles from the sea.

Lucius surprised them with a tale about a blind siren who sang storms into ships.

Jean exaggerated a battle with a seagull she claimed had stolen her dagger.

Even Alaric cracked a crooked smile when Salviana lost a round and had to recite a "blessing" in a made-up sea tongue.

By the time the food was ready, laughter had softened the air.

Jess’s mother laid out the meal with the care of an offering to the gods.

A bowl of saltfire eel, grilled until the skin blistered and curled.

Lemon-gilled cuttlefish, soaked in citrus and glazed with honey. Kelp-cured crab, served with shellflower vinegar.

And flatbread sprinkled with crushed pearls and thyme.

As she poured tea into carved shell cups, she bowed her head.

"I... heard what my daughter did. At the castle," she said quietly, not lifting her eyes. "I know there’s no excuse. But thank you. For sparing her."

Salviana looked up, eyes soft. "She made a mistake. She was scared. But she showed remorse—and that’s rare." She smiled. "We’ve all done foolish things, haven’t we?"

Jean snorted. "Speak for yourself."

Salviana rolled her eyes.

Alaric muttered something about poisoned tea under his breath.

Lucius chuckled.

"Your kindness won’t be forgotten," Jess’s mother said, visibly relieved. "You honored her life. That means everything to me."

"We’re headed to the sea," Lucius said between bites, setting his cup down. "To find a ship. A man named Devon’s gone with the pirates."

The woman’s brows lifted. "Then you’ll need more than a good wind. Pirates don’t trade words with nobles."

"What do you suggest?" Alaric asked sharply.

She didn’t flinch. "You’ll have to look the part. Sound the part. Smell like fish and sin. Make them think you’re one of their own—or close enough."

Jean leaned forward, intrigued. "You think we can fool them?"

"I think you can convince them," she said. "With the right clothes, the right dirt on your face, and maybe a blade tucked where they don’t expect it."

"Noted," Alaric muttered.

Jess perked up. "Mama can help! She’s got old coats from the tide traders, and I know how to stitch pirate sigils!" freёnovelkiss.com

Lucius raised a brow. "We’d be putting your family at risk."

"Your grace, you’re the kindest," Jess said. "I owe you my life"

"We owe you." The mother added.

There was a quiet pause, the kind that settled like a turning tide. Something sacred passed between them in that moment—between royals and commoners, strangers and allies.

Then Jess’s mother clapped her hands. "Right then! No use waiting. We’ll dress you for the sea, feed you again in the morning, and if the gods favor the bold... you’ll find your pirate."

And maybe, just maybe, the mirror they sought.

"We’ll be back from the inn tomorrow to leave then,"

Jess’s mother would hear nothing of them returning to the inn.

"You’ve walked enough roads for one day," she said firmly, laying out extra quilts before any of them could argue. "Let the sea rock you to sleep here. You’re safe under my roof. The harbor winds can wait till morning."

And so, reluctantly but gratefully, the royals remained.

Jess lit a small oil lamp and guided each of them to the modest rooms—once used by her brothers before they left for the navy, now quiet and washed in moonlight.

The furniture was old but clean, the beds tucked with care, and outside, the distant sound of waves hummed like a lullaby.

In the smallest room, under a low ceiling beam strung with hanging garlic and salt pouches, Salviana and Alaric shared the bed.

The moon filtered through the sea-glass window, casting strange, oceanic patterns across the walls.

Salviana had curled against Alaric’s chest, her hand resting on his ribs, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. For a long while, neither of them spoke.