CHAPTER 462: TEARS IN THE GARDEN

"Oh, Flo, you’re glowing!" Salviana gushed, holding her at arm’s length, studying her as if trying to memorize every detail. "But oh, you look ready to cry."

Florence sniffled and wiped her eyes quickly, though it did nothing to stop the tears from spilling again. "I am crying. Stupid emotions. Stupid pregnancy."

Salviana giggled softly and slipped her arm through Florence’s, grounding her with her warmth. "Then let’s take these tears somewhere peaceful. My garden? I’m sure it’s completely dead by now, but at least it’ll be quiet."

She glanced over her shoulder, raising her voice. "Thalia! Bring us some healthy tea, please—and make it extra sweet!"

"Yes, my lady!" Thalia’s voice echoed as the two women walked arm in arm through the castle halls.

The sun painted the courtyard in soft golden strokes as they approached Salviana’s garden. Her smile wavered a little as they neared the gates—her heart sinking with the thought of seeing dried-up flowers, brittle stems, and the ruin of what she had once poured her heart into.

"I should warn you," she sighed, her fingers tightening slightly on Florence’s arm, "this might be depressing. I’ve been gone for more than fifty days, and with the heat lately... I’m sure it’s all gone."

But as they stepped through the archway, Salviana froze.

The garden was alive.

No—more than alive.

It was breathtaking.

Vibrant blooms swayed gently in the breeze, their petals shimmering with dew despite the late hour. Roses she had once feared would wither had not only survived but flourished, thick and full, their vines crawling elegantly along the trellises. Her lavender spread like a soft purple sea, and even the shy little lilies had multiplied, standing proud and open to the sun.

Salviana’s breath caught. Her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.

"...it bloomed," she whispered, voice trembling.

Florence stood quietly beside her, her arm still linked with Salviana’s, her head slightly lowered.

"After all this time," Salviana murmured, walking forward as if in a dream, her fingers brushing the petals of a rose, "after this heat... it’s perfect. Someone—someone took care of it."

Her voice broke as she turned back to Florence, her eyes glistening.

Florence swallowed hard, tears running freely down her cheeks now. "I did."

Salviana froze, her chest tightening.

"I couldn’t let it die," Florence whispered, sobbing now, her hands trembling as she clutched Salviana’s arm. "You love this garden. You said once that tending to it made you feel alive, even in this... cursed castle. And I thought—if you came back and found it dead, you’d be so sad. So I came every day. Every single day, Salviana. Even when I felt sick, even when my ankles swelled like bread, I came and watered it myself."

The tears finally spilled down Salviana’s cheeks as she dropped to her knees in front of Florence, hugging her tightly.

"Oh, Flo..." she whispered into her shoulder. "You precious, wonderful princess. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Florence laughed through her tears, clinging to Salviana. "I’m sorry I’m crying so much, I swear it’s the pregnancy."

"I don’t care," Salviana said, smiling against her shoulder, still crying herself. "Cry all you want. I’ll cry with you."

And so they did. Two women in a secret corner of a castle too full of politics and danger, crying over a blooming garden and the fragile, fierce friendship that had rooted between them.

When they finally pulled apart, Salviana took her hands, squeezing them tightly.

"You’re family, Flo. Not just Alaric’s cousin’s wife. Mine.

You’re mine, too."

Florence’s smile wobbled, but it was radiant. "I’ll take that, Salviana. Always."

As Thalia finally approached with the tea, steam curling from the delicate porcelain cups, Salviana and Florence sat close together on the stone bench in the heart of the blooming garden. The air smelled of lavender and fresh roses, mingling with the faint aroma of mint from the tea tray.

For the first time in weeks—perhaps months—Salviana felt something that had been stolen from her the moment she became the wife of the "demon prince."

She felt loved. She felt missed. She felt the quiet warmth of friendship.

Florence cradled the cup in both hands, her fingers trembling just slightly as she took a cautious sip. Salviana noticed her swollen wrists and the way she sat leaning slightly back, careful of her growing belly.

"You’ve... changed," Florence said finally, her voice soft but full of wonder. "You look... stronger somehow. Braver. You’re not the shy princess who left Wyfkeep months ago."

Salviana chuckled, though her eyes dropped to her cup, watching the tea ripple. "A month feels like a lifetime. Travelling the kingdom changes you. We’ve been hunted, Florence. Ambushed by bounty hunters, chased through forests where even the moonlight felt dangerous... There were days I didn’t think we’d make it back here alive."

Florence’s breath caught. "Hunted? Was it that bad? But Alaric was with you—"

Salviana smiled faintly, shaking her head. "Yes. Alaric was with me. And he’s... well, you know how he fights. He’s unstoppable when he’s angry. But still—it’s different when you’re out there. I learned how to ride through the night without sleep, how to hide, how to keep my voice steady even when I was terrified." She looked up at Florence, her gaze warm but weary. "I didn’t feel like a princess. I felt like... just a woman trying to survive with her husband and friends."

Florence set her tea down carefully, her lip trembling. "And you survived."

"We survived," Salviana said softly, with a small smile.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the garden birds chirping gently as if to fill the pauses. Salviana reached over, placing her hand gently on Florence’s belly.

"And you," Salviana whispered, her expression softening, "you’ve changed too."

Florence gave a watery laugh, placing her hand over Salviana’s. "I’ve grown fatter, you mean?"

"No," Salviana teased, "I mean you’ve grown radiant. And your belly—" she glanced down at the small swell, her fingers brushing it reverently, "—is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. How far along are you now?"