Married To Darkness-Chapter 406: Oh Miss Thalia

"Thalia!" Heappal barked. "Don’t wander!"

But she was already climbing, driven by frustration. She needed to feel tall, seen, acknowledged. With a few quick steps, she perched on a thick branch and shouted up to the sky:

"I’m so tired of being ignored! Can someone—anyone—just notice me for once!"

It echoed.

A bird flew off a tree nearby.

Then a louder, heavier sound answered: bootsteps. Two of them. Crunching toward them from the east.

Heappal’s head whipped in the direction. His hand went instantly to his sword. "Thalia... get down. Now."

Too late.

From the underbrush, two towering figures emerged—bearded, broad, and bristling with weapons. One had a massive rust-stained axe slung over his shoulder. The other chewed on a piece of twig like it was a bone.

"Well, well," said the one with the axe, eyes scanning them like prized cattle. "Looks like the prince’s hounds left a trail."

"The girl screamed. Real smart," the other one added with a laugh, pointing to Thalia. "Could hear her whining all the way from the ridge."

Thalia’s blood ran cold.

Heappal shoved her behind him, drawing his blade. "Go to the horse. Ride north. Don’t stop."

"But—"

"Do it!"

The bounty hunters didn’t wait for negotiations. The one with the axe lunged forward, bellowing a war cry, and steel met steel as Heappal blocked the first swing.

The clash was brutal. Heappal moved with skill, but these men were not common thugs—they fought like wolves, two against one, relentless and wild. Blades scraped against bark. Thalia tried to help, throwing sticks and shouting distractions, but it was chaotic.

A glancing blow caught Heappal’s arm—blood seeped through his tunic. He staggered.

"No!" Thalia screamed and grabbed a sharp rock, hurling it straight at the axe-wielder’s head. It didn’t knock him out, but it made him snarl and stumble long enough for Heappal to drive his blade into the other man’s leg.

"Stupid girl!" Heappal growled between clenched teeth, staggering as he tried to finish them off.

They fought tooth and nail until finally, the bounty hunters were groaning and unconscious on the ground, one with a broken jaw, the other clutching his torn leg.

Panting, Heappal leaned on a tree. "This... This was your fault," he spat at her.

Thalia blinked at him, wide-eyed and pale. "I... I was just—"

"You always have to be seen. Always have to be loud. Do you think this is a game? People die in these woods, Thalia! You nearly got us both killed."

Her lips trembled. "I was just trying to—"

"To what? Flirt your way into being useful?" He glared at her. "You’re not. You’re a liability."

His words stabbed deeper than any blade.

Tears welled in Thalia’s eyes. She turned away, biting her lip hard to keep the sob down.

They mounted the horse in silence. Heappal’s arm bled, and he was clearly in pain, but he refused to show weakness. Thalia sat behind him, stiff and quiet, clutching him not with warmth, but with duty. No words passed between them as they rode deeper into the forest shadows.

The sun was beginning to set. Blood, bitterness, and bark were all that lingered in the fading light and Thalia had never felt sadder.

The night was still. A blanket of silver fog settled over the forest like a shroud. Stars blinked through the canopy, half-swallowed by leaves. The campfire Heappal had managed to light earlier was now a distant flicker in the woods behind her.

The knight lay asleep—or at least pretending to be—his face turned from her, wrapped in silence and bruised pride.

Thalia couldn’t bear another second there.

Her chest was tight, throat aching from the words he’d thrown at her earlier like knives. A liability. Not useful. Loud. The phrases echoed in her skull louder than the chirping insects. They dripped with truth, or at least, the kind of truth that found you when you were already breaking.

She slipped from the makeshift tent with careful, hushed steps. The woods greeted her with the chill of midnight and the earthy scent of moss. She walked barefoot, the damp grass beneath her feet grounding her, guiding her to where she needed to go: the river.

She found it beyond a cluster of birch trees, its waters gleaming pale under moonlight. A low current whispered against stones, inviting her in.

Thalia stood at the riverbank, hesitating for a heartbeat. Then, with trembling fingers, she reached for the ties on her maid’s dress—mud-stained and torn at the hem. Her hands were clumsy, still shaking from hours ago, from his words, from herself.

She stripped layer by layer: the apron first, then the corset she hadn’t laced properly that morning. The cold air bit into her skin as she stepped out of her dress, shivering when the breeze kissed her bare shoulders. She left her underthings on—thin linen shift still clinging to her as she waded into the water.

It was ice.

A sharp, breath-snatching cold that clawed up her legs as she eased into it, gasping softly. She didn’t deserve warmth tonight anyway. She dropped down until the water covered her thighs, then waist, and finally up to her chest. She sank onto a flat rock beneath the surface, letting her body float slightly, the river carrying her sorrow downstream.

She wept.

No sobs at first—just quiet tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, disappearing into the current. Then, the dam broke. Her shoulders heaved, and the forest absorbed the sound of her crying. She leaned forward, covering her face with her hands, whispering into her palms.

"I’m always the stupid one," she murmured to herself. "The one who trips over her feet. The one who talks too much. The one who messes things up."

She sniffled, wiping her face with a wet sleeve. "Lady Jean... she was the first to treat me like I mattered. She braided my hair before court. She said my smile made people less afraid in the palace. Salviana let me sleep by her fireplace when I had nightmares, and I was finally happy. I felt seen."

Her fingers trailed over the water’s surface, stirring ripples as she whispered, "Then I had to go and fall for the one man made of stone and thorn."