Married To Darkness - Chapter 491

491: Scornful Comments 491: Scornful Comments Jean’s heart clenched with sympathy.

“It belongs to both of you now, does it not?

To you and the little one.

No wonder it feels different.” Florence touched her belly again, her fingers tracing lightly as though soothing the child inside.

“That is true.

And yet… there are moments when I feel it is worth everything.

When I feel the baby stir, when I sense a little flutter beneath my hand-it reminds me why I endure it.” Jean’s eyes softened, her steps slowing just slightly to match the princess’s pace.

“Then you endure it with courage.

I admire you deeply, Princess Florence.

Few would speak so honestly of the hardship and still smile at the reward.” The princess chuckled lightly, leaning just a bit more against Jean’s support.

“Perhaps it is only because I am weary of silence.

Most around me do not wish to hear of the aches, only of the glory of motherhood.

But it helps to tell the truth sometimes.” Jean nodded firmly.

“And you should be free to tell it.

You are no less strong for admitting you are tired.

In fact, it makes you all the stronger.” Florence turned her head, studying Jean for a moment with a kind of gentle curiosity.

“You speak with such conviction.

Salviana is lucky to have you by her side.” At that, Jean smiled faintly, her cheeks tinged pink.

“I only do what I can.

She is more precious than she knows.

I could never abandon her.” For a few paces, silence stretched, companionable and unforced.

Their footsteps echoed softly against the marble floor, mingling with the distant sound of faint laughter from the salon.

Florence broke it with a sigh.

“Do you know, Jean, sometimes I envy you.

You move freely through these halls.

You serve one you love and are not bound by courtly expectation the way we are.” Jean shook her head gently.

“Do not envy me, Princess.

Every path has its chains.

Mine are only different from yours.

But at least in one thing we are alike: we both walk in loyalty, and that is a chain I gladly wear.” Florence’s lips curved softly, and for a moment her eyes glistened.

“You are kind.

You remind me of why Salviana trusts you so much.

You speak truth as balm, not weapon.” Jean smiled at that, feeling warmth spread through her chest.

She squeezed Florence’s arm lightly.

“And you remind me of why Salviana calls you friend.

You are gentle, but not blind.

You see more than others think you do.” The princess let out a soft laugh, half-breathless.

“Then perhaps together we make her stronger.

You with your loyalty, and I with my friendship.

She needs all the allies she can gather in this nest of hawks.” At that, Jean’s expression grew serious.

“She does.

And that is why I will not leave her side again.

Two days apart has been too long.” Florence tilted her head, curious, but chose not to pry.

She only smiled and patted Jean’s hand.

“Then let us reach her quickly.

She may be braver with both of us there.” The great doors of the salon loomed ahead now, tall and gilded, voices drifting faintly from within.

Jean straightened her shoulders, steadying her pace to match Florence’s as the princess leaned a little more heavily into her support.

Step by step, they approached together-the loyal lady-in-waiting and the expectant princess-two quiet pillars preparing to enter a hall of sharpened words and veiled smiles.

And though the salon beyond shimmered with hostility and intrigue, Jean felt a sense of calm.

She was not arriving alone, and neither was Florence.

The heavy doors of the salon creaked open as a servant announced softly, “Her Highness, Princess Florence… and Lady Jean Goliath.” Every head turned.

The scent of spiced tea and sugared cakes hung thick in the air, but for a moment, silence pressed down heavier than steam.

The women already seated at the long table turned with varying degrees of curiosity, disdain, and false sweetness plastered into their painted smiles.

But Salviana, who had been sipping quietly from her porcelain cup, froze in place the instant she heard the names.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

She turned sharply, and when her eyes found them-Florence, glowing though tired, supported by Jean-her whole face lit up like a lantern in the dark.

“Florence!

Jean!” Salviana exclaimed, her chair scraping loudly as she pushed back and stood.

She forgot entirely about etiquette.

She forgot about the watching eyes, the hidden smirks, the whispers.

Her arms lifted without hesitation as she crossed the hall.

Florence smiled, relief softening her features as she saw her friend rush forward.

Jean’s lips curved too, though more reserved, but her eyes glowed with warmth.

The three women met just beyond the table’s edge.

Salviana threw her arms around Florence first, careful of her belly but wrapping her nonetheless in a gentle hug.

“Lovely to see you,” she whispered against her cheek before planting a soft kiss there.

Florence chuckled, her own arms weak but affectionate as she returned the embrace.

“I missed you too, dear one.

You look radiant.” Salviana drew back, cupping her friend’s face, then glanced down tenderly at the curve of her stomach.

“And you… you are more beautiful than ever.

You are glowing, Florence.

Truly glowing.” Florence rolled her eyes, amused.

“I am exhausted, but I will take your word for it.” Then Salviana turned, her gaze falling on Jean-and her breath caught.

“Jean,” she said softly, the name laced with both relief and scolding affection.

“Where have you been?” Jean bowed her head just slightly before stepping forward into Salviana’s open arms.

Their embrace was tight, pressing cheek to cheek as Salviana clung to her lady-in-waiting.

“I missed you,” Salviana whispered fiercely, almost trembling.

“Do you know how much?

You left me to fight all these wolves alone.” The crowd cleared their throats collectively at that comment.

Jean smiled faintly, her hand rubbing Salviana’s back.

“I am sorry.

Forgive me.

But I am here now, and I will not leave again.” Salviana drew back to look at her, her eyes glistening.

“Good.

Because I cannot bear it.” She kissed Jean’s forehead, and Jean lowered her lashes, touched beyond words.

Behind them, a few scoffs rippled.

Princess Irene leaned closer to Jennifer, her lips curled in mockery.

“Look at her-embracing her maid as if she were blood while killing family.

Shameless.”