Married To Darkness-Chapter 307: Busy Night Of Fun

As the first lanterns drifted into the night sky, the scene became something out of a dream.

Hundreds of flickering lights rose over the river, mirrored in the water below, dancing between the stars.

The herald’s voice carried once more through the night air.

"Let your lanterns rise and may the gods hear your prayers!"

And so, with murmured wishes, hopeful gazes, and hearts both guarded and open, the guests released their lanterns, watching as they floated toward the heavens—some for love, some for fortune, and some for a future still unknown.

Salviana watched as the golden lanterns drifted into the night sky, their glow painting the river in soft amber hues.

The moment should have been beautiful—should have been peaceful.

Yet, an inexplicable weight settled in her chest, as if something in the air had shifted, unseen but undeniable.

A sudden shiver ran through her, a deep, bone-cold feeling that made her heart clench. It was brief but powerful, leaving her breath catching in her throat.

Alaric, ever watchful, did not miss the way her fingers curled slightly against her dress.

He turned his head, his sharp blue gaze settling on her. "What’s wrong?" he murmured low enough that only she could hear.

Salviana hesitated. How could she explain a feeling she didn’t even understand? Instead, she forced a soft smile, tilting her head toward him.

"Nothing," she lied smoothly, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her gut. "Just the night air."

Alaric didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press. He only watched her a moment longer before nodding.

Ahead, the procession was moving, shifting away from the river and toward the towering silhouette of Wyfkeep Castle. The night’s festivities were far from over.

By now, the maids and guards had already ushered the younger children inside, sparing the little ones from the late-night celebrations.

Even Little Rose had been taken in, much to her pouting dismay.

The grand doors of the castle stood open, light and warmth spilling into the cool night. Voices mingled, laughter echoed, and the scent of wine and roasted meats drifted into the air.

Salviana took a deep breath, steadying herself. Whatever that feeling had been, it was gone now.

At least, she hoped it was.

The Grand Banquet: A Night of Merriment and Shadows

As the last lanterns floated into the sky, the noble guests, knights, and royal family moved toward the towering doors of Wyfkeep Castle. The warmth of the grand hall welcomed them, contrasting against the cool evening air outside.

The vast dining chamber was already alive with movement. Maids in crisp dresses and butlers in fine livery hurried between the long, candle-lit tables, carrying trays of steaming dishes and goblets filled with deep red wine. The head maid, a stern woman with graying hair, directed the servants with sharp whispers, ensuring everything was in place.

The room buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the occasional clinking of silverware against fine porcelain. The nobles settled into their assigned seats, their embroidered silks and velvets shimmering under the golden glow of chandeliers.

At the high table, King Gideon Velthorne sat with his wife, the queen, beside him. His expression was unreadable, though his gaze flickered toward Alaric now and then. A quiet storm brewed beneath his regal exterior.

Alaric, however, paid no mind to the weight of his uncle’s stare. Instead, his focus lingered on Salviana, who sat beside him, her red hair catching the candlelight like molten gold. She was stunning in her emerald gown, and for the briefest moment, the tension in his shoulders eased.

"Wine, my lord?" A young maid approached cautiously, offering a goblet.

Alaric nodded, taking the cup. He noticed her hands trembled slightly as she poured. Was it the excitement of serving royalty or something else?

Across the hall, Benedict sat proudly beside Alaric, still beaming from their earlier talk. He swung his legs under the table, watching the feast unfold with wide, curious eyes.

The first course was brought out—a rich broth, accompanied by warm bread and spiced butter. Servants weaved through the tables, refilling goblets, carrying roasted meats, and ensuring no plate remained empty.

Laughter erupted from one corner where a group of noblemen jested over a spilled drink. At another table, a lady gasped as her young daughter reached for a sweet pastry with sticky fingers. The air was thick with mirth, wine, and the comforting aroma of fine food.

"To the king!" A voice rang out, and the entire hall stood, raising their goblets.

"To the king!" the guests echoed, their voices a chorus of reverence and tradition.

King Gideon lifted his own goblet, nodding approvingly. "Let the night continue," he declared.

The music swelled, the feasting resumed, and beneath the surface of celebration, unspoken thoughts and silent tensions simmered in the flickering candlelight.

The feast carried on in full swing. Laughter and lively chatter filled the grand hall as nobles moved between tables, exchanging pleasantries, forming alliances, and indulging in whispered gossip.

At a nearby table, Lady Mirabel leaned toward Sir Edgar, her jeweled fingers brushing against his sleeve as she cooed, "And tell me, good sir, is it true that the Duke of Vervain lost an entire shipment of silk to river bandits?"

Sir Edgar smirked, swirling his goblet of wine. "I hear it was not mere bandits, but a rival house ensuring their monopoly. Trade is as ruthless as war these days."

A few tables away, a group of young lords roared in laughter.

"I swear upon my honor, Lord Carlton tripped over his own sword before the joust even began!" Lord Vincent exclaimed, causing another round of amused chuckles.

"He’ll never live that down," another agreed, shaking his head.

Jean, standing behind Salviana’s seat, found herself momentarily distracted by Lucius, who leaned just a little too close.

"You’re quite dedicated to your duty tonight, Jean." His deep voice held an unmistakable teasing lilt.

Jean gave him a sharp look, but her cheeks warmed. "Of course. Unlike some people, I know how to act properly in a formal setting."

Lucius grinned, unbothered. "And yet, here you are, entertaining my presence. Admit it, you’d be bored without me."

She scoffed, trying to ignore the way her heart picked up its pace.

Across the hall, Alaric was deep in conversation with a visiting noble.

"You handled yourself well in the joust, Prince Warren," Lord Dorian praised. "Your technique was admirable—almost as if you were holding back."

Warren smirked slightly, taking a sip of his wine. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just enjoy making my opponents underestimate me."

Lord Dorian chuckled. "A dangerous mindset, but effective."

Amid the buzzing conversations and clinking of goblets, Salviana quietly slipped away.

The warmth of the hall had started to feel stifling, and a cool breeze called to her from beyond the towering doors.

She stepped outside, the heavy oak doors shutting softly behind her. The night air greeted her like a whisper, crisp and fresh against her skin.

Stars stretched endlessly above, twinkling against the deep velvet sky. The distant sounds of the feast faded as she inhaled deeply, allowing the cool night to soothe her.

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the evening slip off her shoulders.

Back inside, Alaric remained unaware of her absence, too engaged in the ongoing conversations and courtly exchanges.

Meanwhile, Lucius—who had been casually tormenting Jean with his playful remarks—was the first to notice.

His sharp black eyes flicked toward the empty chair.

"Where is your lady?" he asked, his voice light, but his gaze assessing.

Jean followed his gaze, suddenly realizing Salviana was gone. Her heart skipped a beat.

"She—" Jean began, but before she could finish, Lucius had already turned, his expression unreadable as he scanned the room, then subtly glanced toward the doors leading outside.