Chapter 264: The Restless Morning
Alaric paced the length of his chambers, his mind tangled in conflicting thoughts.
Richard... Jaefel... could it be both of them? Emma’s revelations unsettled him. He had suspected Richard for weeks, his once-loyal knight behaving strangely—too many absences, too many excuses. But now, with Emma’s claims about Jaefel, it felt as though the web of suspicion had tightened around someone entirely unexpected. If Jaefel was the one he had been searching for, then his every move mattered now more than ever. Alaric knew he had to act, and swiftly. The king’s birthday was just days away, and it seemed the perfect opportunity for someone to strike again.
He frowned, his jaw tightening as he reached for his wardrobe. Dressing for the day felt almost tedious, but appearances mattered. As a prince, he couldn’t afford to appear disheveled, not even in the privacy of his own castle.
He selected an ensemble worthy of his status yet practical enough for the tasks ahead. A finely tailored doublet in deep burgundy, embroidered with subtle silver threading that caught the light like shards of frost. The sleeves were trimmed with soft black velvet, a stark contrast to the crisp white shirt beneath. He fastened a wide leather belt around his waist, adorned with a silver buckle shaped like the royal crest. His black trousers were slim-fitting but not restrictive, and his polished leather boots reached just below the knee, their dark sheen reflecting the faint morning light streaming through the window.
From a polished box on his dresser, he retrieved a silver brooch in the shape of a wolf—his family’s sigil—and pinned it to his chest. The final touch was a black cloak lined with fur, draped over his shoulders with an effortless grace. He glanced at himself in the tall mirror, his expression stern, his dark eyes clouded with determination.
I have to think of a plan, he told himself. If I fail, the king’s birthday will not only be a celebration—it will be the day the culprit strikes again.
The quiet sound of soft footfalls pulled him from his thoughts. Salviana entered the room, still in her pale silk robe, her fiery red hair tumbling over her shoulders. She paused, her green eyes searching his face.
"You’re troubled," she said softly, crossing the room toward him.
Alaric hesitated. "It’s nothing to worry about."