Chapter 9: The Breakfast Dining Hall.
The door shut softly behind the maids, and suddenly the room felt impossibly small. Salviana stood frozen, aware of every inch of space between them. The air grew thick, suffocating. She dared not move as he stepped closer, the tension between them growing unbearable.
"Let's go and have breakfast with the royals you prefer over me," he invited, his voice dripping with casual disdain, offering his arm without hesitation.
He was fine with touch today? she wondered because that was the same arm that she tried to take last night but he pulled away.
His formality must've returned, gloves and all. Silently, she nodded and took his arm, though her pulse quickened.
As they left the chambers, his eyes darkened, a subtle shift in his expression that betrayed his loathing for what awaited them. He hated being around his family, but there was no reason to rebel today. Not yet.
Once Salviana did her purpose, he wouldn't need to pretend to these hateful fools. What made it worse was the human meals—he disliked them immensely—but he forced himself to partake, keeping up appearances.
He had heard the maids earlier but girls gossip and if was to reacte accordingly, he knew no one would willingly be here with him but that didn't mean they could say it for her to hear, and they were wrong, he was cold but he would try to care for her. He would not be careless.
They walked down the grand corridors leading to the main castle, every step echoing in the pristine space. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, chronicling centuries of battles and royal ceremonies. Above, the ceiling soared with archways supported by delicately carved columns. Chandeliers of crystal and gold cast a soft, ethereal glow, bathing the castle in an elegance that seemed oppressive rather than beautiful.
Salviana's eyes flitted over the meticulous details—the polished marble floors, the uniforms of the maids and guards, identical in every way. Everything screamed order, power, and control. She found herself both admiring and feeling overwhelmed by it all. It was as if the grandeur itself demanded submission, and she wondered if that was intentional.
As they neared the main castle, her heartbeat quickened. The dining hall was only moments away, and with it, the daunting presence of his family. Her husband could sense her unease, yet he did nothing to comfort her. His silence was clear—she had to stay alert in this environment. They were about to enter the lion's den or the comforters zone.
The doors to the grand dining hall opened with a flourish, and the warden's voice rang out: "The third prince, His Grace, and Her Grace, his bride, the seventh princess, are here!"