"A fine morning for a drive, Prince Alaric," the coachman, Manni said softly. "And a finer bride to share it with."
Alaric paused, his hand lingering on the doorframe. He looked at Salviana, already settled among the velvet cushions, looking radiant in the morning light. He turned back to the coachman and gave a single, firm nod.
"The finest," Alaric agreed.
He stepped into the carriage, the door clicking shut with a finality that signaled the end of their sanctuary. As the horses began to trot, the laughter of their friends faded behind them, replaced by the steady rhythm of wheels on cobblestone.
Salviana reached out, taking Alaric's hand and squeezing it. "Remember," she whispered as the palace dining hall came into view. "No sparring at the table."
Alaric let out a short, sharp laugh, bringing her knuckles to his lips for one last, lingering kiss. "I make no promises, also it never happens at the table my love."
