Chapter 486: Never Out Of style
She clutched the basket to her chest, its faint warmth seeping into her palms, and smiled through the tears pricking her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured, more to herself than to the maids.
Behind her, Sarah and Thalia exchanged knowing glances.
Emma dipped her head. "He said you mustn’t worry—that you need only smile, and you will conquer the whole room."
Salviana laughed softly at that, the sound trembling but real. "He would say something like that."
Her nerves did not vanish, but they softened. She could almost hear Alaric teasing her in that quiet, mischievous way, telling her that she would blind them all with nothing more than her presence.
She hugged the basket close, her silent cross now a little lighter.
"Very well," she said at last, her voice steadier, her eyes glimmering. "Let us go to this tea party."
And with her gown whispering against the floor, her maids trailing behind her, and her husband’s thoughtful basket tucked safely in her arms, Salviana stepped into the hall.
On the way, fate sweetened the moment more.
Little Rose came toddling down the corridor with her maids, her tiny legs wobbling as fast as they could carry her.
"Rosette, darling!" Salviana bent low, arms outstretched.
"Sa–Sa!" The child squealed, stumbling into her embrace.
Salviana lifted her easily, spinning her once. The little girl giggled, her arms clinging around Salviana’s neck. "How are you, my darling?"
"I am fine!" Rose squeaked, her voice all sunshine.
"I missed you," Rose confessed, fingers already tangling into the jeweled coils of Salviana’s hair.
Salviana’s heart melted. She kissed her cheek tenderly. "And I missed you too, precious one. Forgive me for not visiting sooner."
Rose’s little teeth showed as she grinned, but Salviana’s smile faltered. They looked neglected—unbrushed, almost stained. A cold ripple of disapproval ran through her. What are these maids doing? Her eyes, sharp as daggers, flicked toward them, making them stiffen.
But Rose’s innocent voice tugged her back. "Your hair is so pretty!"
Salviana softened again. "Thank you, darling. Emma can make yours just as pretty."
Rose giggled and tugged harder, nearly unraveling the delicate work done to Salviana’s red hair. "It looks like—"
"Oh no, Rosette." Salviana caught her tiny hand, laughing lightly to soften the scold. "We mustn’t scatter my hair. I have a party, and I want to look immaculate."
Rose pouted but nodded. "Ok. I will go to Miss Emma. She’ll make my hair pretty too."
"You do that," Salviana murmured, lowering her back to the ground. She leaned down, whispering gently, "And tell her to clean your teeth for you, hmm?"
The child bobbed her head eagerly and skipped toward her maids, waving as though they were parting for a great journey.
Salviana’s eyes, however, turned steely as she motioned the maids closer. Her voice lowered to a soft, silken warning.
"Take better care of this child. If you cannot, I will have no choice but to speak to her father about replacing you."
Their faces blanched, as if her words had stripped the blood from their veins. They bowed in unison, trembling. "We apologize, Your Highness. We will do better."
She sighed, the weight of command pressing against her natural gentleness. "See that you do."
Then she smiled at Rose, lifting her hand in a graceful wave. "Goodbye, my darling."
"See you later, my Princess!" Rose called out brightly.
The innocent title struck Salviana’s heart like a bell. Princess. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she quickly turned away. Her gaze collided with the man waiting a few steps off—her escort, the guard Jaefel. His eyes lingered on her a moment too long, unreadable, before she swept past him, the basket of Alaric’s sweets in hand, and continued her walk to the tea party.
Maids rushed ahead to collect the basket Salviana carried, arranging it neatly upon a side table. Then the grand doors swung open, and she stepped into the hall.
The ripple of silence that followed was telling. Suspicious.
"Lo and behold, Princess Salviana," Crown Princess Lilian’s honeyed voice broke the quiet, her smile polite but sharpened at the edges.
Salviana’s lips curved in a cool, calculated smile. "Thank you for inviting me."
"Courtesy," came a mutter, not subtle in the least. The culprit: Princess Irene.
Salviana’s gaze slid to her like a knife—measured, unimpressed.
"You look absolutely beautiful, Seventh Princess," Princess Jolene chimed, sweetness laced with caution.
Her words drew a poisonous glare from Christina, who clearly disliked Salviana receiving praise.
Salviana inclined her head with poise, cheeks touched with a soft blush. "Thank you, Princess—"
"She had to use the best of her dresses for such a nominal gathering," Irene cut her off sharply. "I don’t wonder what she’ll wear for a grand event. Surely, she would’ve exhausted her reach by then."
Salviana’s smirk was velvet and steel all at once. "I never run out of style, Irene. Not to worry."
Irene’s face reddened. "Do not call me by my name!" she all but shrieked, her voice echoing too loudly in the refined hall.
But Salviana simply turned her head away, dismissing her like a whining child. She gestured to the maid holding her basket.
"My husband prepared this for me," she announced lightly, her tone full of understated pride. "I hope we enjoy it together."
A sharp titter came from Jennifer. "How unconcerned must you be, Salviana, that the Third Prince had to arrange your offering? We are not forcing you to be here, after all."
Salviana’s eyes glittered as she leaned forward slightly. "No, Jennifer. You cannot force me into anything. My husband loves me, and that is why he is thoughtful towards me." Her lips curved into a sly smirk. "It must be strange for you to imagine such devotion."
The barb landed clean.
"Please, Princess Salviana," Lilian interjected smoothly, her composure never cracking. "Do sit. We have much to catch up on. And thank you for the basket—it is most kind."
Salviana allowed herself to soften for Lilian alone, then swept to a chair and sat gracefully at random, utterly unbothered by rank or placement.
"Princess Florence is not here yet," she observed aloud, her eyes flicking around the table.
Irene pounced immediately, her voice dripping with venom. "Hovering around her absence, are we? Do you plan to take the poor princess’s husband away as you did with mine?"
The words stung the air like acid.
Salviana’s shoulders stiffened, her chin rising as fire sparked in her eyes. Her voice rang clear, calm yet cutting:
"If he tries to kill me or my husband, yes. He will be taken out."
The collective gasp was sharp enough to slice the room in half.
For a brief second, Salviana questioned if she’d gone too far. But no—fear was better than being their victim. Let them think twice before aiming their daggers at her again.
"What is the agenda for today?" Jolene said suddenly, breaking the tension with a too-bright smile.
"We are just bonding over tea," Lilian answered, her tone smoothing the air once more.
Salviana resisted the urge to scoff aloud. Bonding? This is less a tea party and more a carefully staged drag-hunt.
She folded her hands in her lap, serene, even as the battlefield lay thick in the silence between every word.