CHAPTER 470: STOLEN KISSES & SWEET LAUGHTER

As they continued walking, Salviana gave up pretending to be annoyed. She laughed freely now, occasionally spinning in her dress as if daring him to catch her.

He did, of course. Every time she turned, he’d teleport close, wrap his arm around her waist, and steal another kiss—sometimes on her cheek, sometimes lingering at the corner of her mouth, sometimes just breathing her in.

"Alaric, people are watching," she whispered once, her face turning crimson as a merchant passed by.

"Let them," he replied with a smirk, leaning close to murmur near her ear. "I want them to know you’re mine."

Her heart stuttered, and she swatted at his chest, but her smile betrayed her.

By the time they were nearing the castle gates, Salviana’s laughter had softened into quiet giggles, her cheeks pink, and Alaric had one arm loosely around her shoulders, walking as though the entire night belonged to just them.

The moment they stepped past the castle gates, all eyes turned to them.

Knights stiffened in place, trying to pretend they weren’t watching, but their widened eyes gave them away. Maids paused mid-step, heads lowering in respectful bows even as they exchanged covert glances.

The Third Prince—the Demon Prince—and the Seventh Princess were walking together under the lantern glow... laughing. Laughing. And—if anyone dared believe their own eyes—kissing.

Didn’t they just got the royal bounty out of their heads?

"Did you see that?" one maid whispered urgently as soon as the couple passed.

"He... he smiled. At her. Gods, he smiled!"

"Smiled? He kissed her! On the cheek! Right there in the open! He must have lost his mind—"

"No, you fool, that’s love!" another maid interrupted, dreamy-eyed.

"Love? With him? That’s the demon prince!"

"Demon or not, he looks at her like she hung the moon. You don’t look at someone like that if you plan to bite their head off later."

Knights exchanged glances too, their expressions caught between disbelief and confusion. The Alaric they knew was a warrior with a gaze sharp enough to cut through bone, not a man who walked slowly through the palace garden trail with his arm around his wife’s waist, whispering things that made her laugh so hard she nearly tripped.

"The prince is changing," one knight muttered under his breath.

"No," his friend corrected, "the prince is in love."

The gossip spread like wildfire, racing ahead of them long before they even reached their chambers.

The moment the heavy door shut behind them, Salviana let out a soft sigh, slipping out of her shoes. "We are never going to live that down."

Alaric smirked, unbothered as always. "Let them talk. I don’t care. I only care that you laughed tonight."

She rolled her eyes at him but her heart skipped anyway. "You’re so sweet." she cooed.

"And yours," he replied, pulling her gently to him before kissing her forehead. "Always yours."

Her cheeks warmed, but before she could answer, Alaric’s gaze swept over her, and that familiar teasing glint returned. "Bath, fiery wife? You look like you need one after all that twirling."

"I don’t twirl that much!" she protested.

"You do when you’re trying to look adorable. Which works. Shall we?"

The maids had already prepared the bath, the water warm and scented faintly with lavender. Salviana slipped in first, letting out a quiet sigh as the heat soothed her tired body.

Alaric sat on the edge for a while, his tunic loosened, watching her with that lazy intensity that always made her heart race.

"What?" she asked, blushing as she sank deeper into the water.

"Nothing," he said, though his smirk said otherwise. "Just admiring you. You look softer here. Like you belong in this warmth."

"And you don’t?"

"I’m darkness, Salviana. But I like watching you light up even my shadows."

Her heart skipped, and she splashed him lightly. "You’re ridiculous when you talk like that."

"And yet you’re blushing."

When she was done, he offered her a towel and helped her out, letting his fingers brush deliberately slow over her arms. His hands were warm despite the coolness of his nature, strong and careful, as though she might shatter if he held her too tightly.

Back in their chamber, Alaric guided her to the bed. "Lie down, fiery wife."

"What are you doing?"

"Returning the favor," he said simply.

She hesitated but lay on her stomach, and soon, his hands were working slow, careful circles along her shoulders and back. He wasn’t just strong—he was deliberate, taking his time as if memorizing every part of her he touched.

Salviana let out a soft sigh, the tension in her muscles melting away.

"You’re good at this," she murmured sleepily.

"I’ve learned patience, Salviana. Even when I don’t want to be patient... with you, I must."

Her cheeks flushed at the meaning in his words, but she didn’t reply. She only let herself relax into his touch.

When he finished, he pulled her into his arms, lying beside her, one hand stroking her hair. She curled into him, resting her head against his chest.

"Today was nice," she whispered.

"Every day with you is," he said softly, kissing her hair.

"You’re getting soft, my prince," she teased with a small grin.

"Only for you, my princess" he murmured, and they drifted into comfortable silence, their breaths syncing slowly in the soft glow of candlelight.

"Only you, Salviana," he whispered again, brushing his lips against her forehead.

She smiled against his chest, heart fluttering.

Then he added with mock seriousness, "But don’t tell the castle—I have a reputation to maintain. If word gets out that I gave you a massage, the Council might ask me to start hosting spa days."

Salviana let out a surprised laugh, covering her mouth. "You? Ruling with lavender oils and scented candles?"

"I’d make an excellent tyrant of tranquility," he declared, puffing his chest dramatically. "Fear me, for I wield the power of deep-tissue relief."

She giggled helplessly now, burying her face into him. "Stop it, I’m trying to be sleepy and romantic."

"I’m helping," he said with a wink. "Laughter is the most relaxing spell of all."