Married To Darkness-Chapter 429: Reuniting with the princess

They reached the gates of Moor Mansion just as the bells tolled once—noon.

The heavy doors of the Moor Mansion creaked open with slow grandeur, revealing the wide marble steps that led to its shadowed entrance.

The sky was still a gloomy gray, clouds thick like whispers overhead, but in Thalia’s chest, a storm of emotion threatened to break forth like sun through the fog.

Sebastian walked beside her, expression unreadable. But she could feel him—how he had become so attuned to her moods she didn’t even have to speak. He felt her anxiety. Her longing. Her pain.

The guards on duty barely looked up at first. One squinted as they approached, the same arrogant twist on his mouth as before. "Didn’t we send you away this morning?"

Thalia didn’t flinch. This time, she didn’t ask. She didn’t beg.

She dismounted with practiced ease, her tone calm and flat:

"We’re with the guests your lord is currently harboring."

The effect was immediate.

The older guard’s face drained of color. The younger one at his side straightened, as though trying not to look as nervous as he suddenly felt. They exchanged a brief look, as if confirming what neither wanted to say aloud.

The guards had tried to stop them again, as expected.

But this time, Thalia didn’t hesitate. Her voice had cut through their arrogance like cold steel. "We’re with the guests your mansion currently holds."

The change was instant. One of the guards paled, eyes darting to the side, unsure whether to stop them or bow. He motioned them to wait and hurried off to inform the prince.

The older one cleared his throat and stepped aside. "Wait here," he muttered, before hurrying into the estate.

Thalia and Sebastian shared a look but said nothing.

Inside the mansion...

Lord Embrez Velthorne, lounged by the window of his private sitting room, sunlight streaking through panes of painted glass. The scent of lemon and cedar hung in the air, mixed with the tension that followed Lucius and Alaric wherever they went.

Lucius stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, listening with a scowl. Alaric, sitting near the edge of a carved chair, glanced up sharply as the guard entered.

So Inside the sun-drenched sitting room of the Moor Mansion, Prince Embrez Velthorne’s mood shifted the moment the guard spoke.

"A young man and a woman at the gate. They say they’re with the guests your mansion currently holds."

Lucius raised a brow. Alaric straightened slowly in his seat, his instincts sharpening.

"Who are they?" he asked carefully.

The guard hesitated. "They... didn’t give names. The woman spoke with certainty. Said she belonged to the same group as your current guests. Dark hair, blue cloak. She looked... determined."

Alaric’s heart kicked hard in his chest.

"...Thalia?" he said, barely a whisper, she was the only woman not in their group currently and he was also surprised her name came so easily to him.

Lucius frowned. "Can’t be. How did they find us?."

Alaric was already moving toward the door.

Embrez stood as well. "I don’t like surprises. Let’s see for ourselves."

The three men swept out of the chamber, their boots echoing against the stone halls as they descended toward the courtyard.

A few guards tried to follow, but Embrez held up a hand. "No one else."

Outside the gates...

Thalia adjusted her newly bought cloak, brushing invisible lint off her sleeves. Her heart raced. Sebastian stood beside her, arms folded, that usual smirk tugging at his mouth—but even he had gone quiet.

The large gate creaked, then opened.

And they stepped forward as three figures emerged from the mansion.

Lucius with his umbrella. Alaric with his unbeatable vibe of darkness. Embrez’s lethal beauty.

They moved as one, like shadows cast by power. Each of them had the build of men shaped by war and politics—and yet, as they came closer, one of them broke stride.

The three princes made their way down together. But the moment they stepped out the grand double doors and caught sight of the figures waiting just beyond the garden fence—Alaric stopped dead in his tracks.

The woman standing there was covered in traveling dust, her cloak frayed, her boots worn—but her posture was proud, and her golden-brown eyes sparkled even under the cloudy sky.

"Thalia?" Alaric breathed.

His voice cracked the silence like a sword slicing air.

Lucius blinked as if seeing a ghost. Embrez’s expression shifted from suspicion to stunned disbelief.

Thalia’s lips parted, breath catching. "Your Highness."

He moved first. Crossing the space between them, disbelieving.

"By the gods... It’s really you."

Just behind him, the voices of running feet echoed from within the mansion. Princess Salviana burst onto the steps, her curls flying around her face like a halo, her rose-pink robe flaring behind her.

"Thalia!"

Jean, Sarah, and Emma were right behind her.

Thalia barely had a moment to blink before Salviana’s arms wrapped around her.

"We thought you were dead," the princess cried, clinging to her. "Thalia—Thalia, I thought—!" Salviana stopped talking because she felt on the verge of tears.

Her voice broke. Thalia blinked hard, but the tears still slipped down her cheeks. "I—I thought you were gone too." She had somehow thought everything was lost.

"We were taken by the pirates," Emma said, breathless as she reached them. "They caught us by surprise at the harbor. I thought—I thought they’d killed you and Heappal."

Sarah sniffled. "The men fought but the pirates are brutal."

"You... weren’t captured?" Emma asked gently.

Thalia shook her head. "Heappal and I—we were separated from the group just before the ambush. Hunters from Wyfn-Garde came after us in the forest. We fought them off for days."

They all stared at her in shock. Salviana placed a hand on her heart. "I... painted something nights ago. It was dark and un let but I saw an absence. I thought it was a vision. I’m grateful it’s not. I thought you had..." she trailed off again.

Thalia gripped her tighter. "We survived. But—he’s not well."

The reunion’s laughter faded instantly.

Sebastian, who had been standing a little apart, watching with quiet respect, finally stepped closer. "Heappal is sick," he confirmed. "Injured in one of the fights. I left him in a safe place."

Samion, the youngest of the knights and Heappal’s longtime comrade, pushed forward from where he’d been standing in awe. "Where is he?" he asked, voice cracking. "Take me to him. Now."

"And who is this?... Who are you?" Alaric asked Sebastian with narrowed eyes.