CHAPTER 447: PATIENCE FOR ALL

I can’t stop imagining your dreams now," Alaric whispered against her lips, his breath warm, his voice heavy with amusement and something more tender.

Salviana let out a soft chuckle—but it faded almost as soon as it left her mouth.

She looked away, toward the waterfall, her fingers idly curling around the pendant at her neck. "Alaric," she said quietly, "you are the one who’s made sure my dreams didn’t come true for months."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She met his gaze then—no anger, just a quiet ache in her eyes. "Can we not talk about it?"

Alaric pressed his lips together as he sighed, "I’m sorry," he said.

Salviana blinked back her sadness as she said, "I’ve dreamt of you for so long. Not just in my sleep. In every stolen moment. I want to be yours, wholly. But you... you always stop."

The mood shifted.

The laughter between them fell silent, and the world around them seemed to grow still—save for the constant crash of water against stone.

Alaric exhaled slowly, his jaw tight. "Salviana..."

"I’m not blaming you," she said quickly, her voice soft, steady. "I know what you are. I know what you fear. That if we... if you lose control, you might hurt me."

He turned away, looking into the spray of the falls, shame pulling at the corners of his expression.

"I will hurt you," he said finally. "Not because I want to. But because there’s a part of me, this ancient, cruel instinct, that doesn’t sleep. I’ve spent years burying it. And when I’m close to you... when you touch me, when you moan in your sleep like that... gods, Salviana, it claws at me."

She stepped closer, laying a hand over his heart. "But I trust you."

He flinched at the words. "You shouldn’t."

"I do," she said firmly. "You could’ve lost control a thousand times. You didn’t. You still haven’t."

He shook his head. "It’s different when... when there’s blood. Passion. Hunger. Everything at once."

Salviana’s fingers gripped the front of his tunic. "Then teach me how to love you without fear. Let me walk through it with you. I’m not afraid of what you are, Alaric. I never was."

He stared at her then, as though seeing her anew. Her hair damp from the mist. Her lips trembling but her eyes unwavering. His wife—his anchor.

He cupped her cheek gently. "I want you," he said, his voice almost breaking. "You have no idea how much. But I’ve waited because I love you too much to be reckless."

Tears welled in her eyes, not from sadness, but from the sheer weight of wanting, of being wanted.

"So what now?" she whispered.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, eyes closed. "Now... we survive this. We get through the hunt, the crown, the war. And when we finally stand in a place that doesn’t want to destroy us, I will give you everything. Every part of me, no fear. No restraint."

She smiled, a tear slipping free. "Then I’ll wait for you, Alaric. I’ll wait until you’re ready to stop holding back."

His lips brushed her forehead.

"My fiery wife," he whispered. "You set even my fears on fire."

And so, beneath the roaring waterfall, they held each other, not as predator and prey, not as hunted and hunted—but as husband and wife, desperately clinging to hope, to trust, and to a love still learning how to burn without burning them alive.

She gripped his chin and started to kiss him.

"We should probably round the water and hike down," Lucius muttered, his voice edged with weariness as he turned slightly to glance at Jean, seated behind him on their steed.

Jean rubbed her temples against his back, her voice muffled and lazy, "Is that our way home?"

Alaric, still holding Salviana close on their horse, looked toward the thundering cascade beside them.

The roar of the waterfall echoed like the pulse of the gods, splashing fine mist into the air around them. The view from above was magnificent—but unusable.

Salviana, breathless from the kiss she’d just stolen from her husband, pulled back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining.

She inhaled deeply. "We need to bathe and feel better. It’s been two days, and I feel like forest dust wrapped in royal silk."

Her gaze traced the violent churning of the upper falls, then the narrow trail that wound down toward gentler waters.

"This part’s too wild. The gods themselves might have stirred it this morning," she said, flicking water from her hair. "We’ll have to go lower."

Lucius studied the steep slope below with a frown. "Let’s head down before the sun speaks different."

"Agreed," Alaric nodded, his voice low and commanding. "It’s only going to get hotter. And if we keep pushing the horses, someone’s going to faint."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Probably me."

Lucius chuckled darkly. "You? I was going to say Alaric, the way he’s been clinging to his wife like a smitten garden boy and his mistress."

"I’ll cling to her every day until the end of this cursed journey," Alaric responded smoothly, "and you’re only jealous because your own fiery goddess refuses to admit she likes you."

Jean laughed and hit Lucius’s back playfully. "That’s true, though."

"Alright, alright," Salviana laughed, raising her hand to signal the others. "Enough talk. Let’s find that pool before someone starts hallucinating about food or a feather bed."

They urged the horses forward along the ridge, hooves crunching over damp earth and fallen pine needles.

The sound of the falls grew louder, deeper, but so did the promise of respite.

Below them, sunlight danced on a crystal-clear pool—fed gently by the river trailing from the raging cascade.

The trees gave way just enough to create a natural clearing, edged by rocks and thick ferns, with flat ground perfect for resting.

Salviana’s smile widened. "That looks like heaven."

Alaric smiled faintly. "Let’s just hope it’s not cursed."

"If it is, I volunteer to be cursed after I bathe," Jean muttered.