Chapter 621: Chapter-621
Heena stood by the window, entirely caught in the act. She didn’t panic, nor did she break eye contact. She simply let out an exhausted breath, walked over to the table, and collapsed into the chair opposite him.
"Don’t start with the jealous husband routine," Heena groaned, rubbing her temples. "I am too tired to deal with your possessive scholarly aura tonight."
Samuel set his teacup down. The dangerous glint in his eyes didn’t fade, but it was quickly joined by genuine, calculating curiosity. He looked at her dusty boots, the faint smudge of market dirt on her cloak, and the heavy exhaustion weighing down her shoulders.
"You were not with the military," Samuel deduced instantly, his brilliant mind connecting the dots. "Your grandfather has been in the main hall all evening complaining about Seera’s absence. And you did not take your shadow guards."
He leaned forward, the terrifyingly sharp politician returning to the surface. "Where did you go, Wife?"
Heena didn’t flinch. Her hand rested casually in her lap, inches away from the hidden pocket inside her cloak where the Emperor’s wax-sealed scroll sat heavily against her ribs.
There was absolutely no way she was telling Samuel about the Emperor’s suicide mission. The scholar was far too smart; if he knew she was marching into a political bloodbath against the Ministry of Revenue, he would immediately interfere and ruin her meticulously planned martyrdom.
"I went to the South Side Market," Heena replied, her voice dripping with absolute boredom, lying with the flawless ease of a sociopath.
Samuel raised an elegant eyebrow. "The market? In the dead of night? By yourself?"
"Yes," Heena deadpanned. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand and giving him a deeply unamused look. "Because staring at the ceiling of this bedroom while my waist throbbed wasn’t exactly relaxing. The estate’s wine is too light, and the servants hover too much. I needed fresh air and a jar of actual, unfiltered market liquor to numb the headache you gave me."
Samuel stared at her. His golden eyes scanned her face, looking for the slightest micro-expression of deception. He noted the irritation in her tone, the casual slump of her shoulders, and the very real exhaustion in her dark eyes.
It was a perfectly plausible excuse. It perfectly matched Seera’s feral, independent Vanguard nature to sneak out of her own heavily fortified manor just to buy cheap alcohol because she was annoyed.
But Samuel was a genius. He knew there was a missing piece to this puzzle.
Slowly, the dangerous tension in his shoulders relaxed. A dark, highly amused smile curled his lips. He wasn’t going to push her—not yet. He would let his shadow guards retrace her steps in the morning.
"Is that so?" Samuel murmured, reaching across the wooden table to gently brush a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. "My apologies, Wife. If I had known you were in such desperate need of a distraction, I would have simply stayed in bed and kept you occupied."
Heena slapped his hand away, though a faint, exhausted smirk touched her lips. "If you try to ’occupy’ me tonight, scholar, I will personally throw you out that window."
Samuel chuckled, a deep, warm sound that filled the dim room. He stood up, walking around the table, and effortlessly scooped her into his arms, completely ignoring her tired protests.
"I wouldn’t dream of it, Wife," Samuel whispered softly, carrying her toward the massive, silk-draped bed. "Tonight, the Vanguard Madam actually gets to sleep."
Heena let herself be carried, resting her head against his broad shoulder. As he gently laid her down onto the soft silk sheets, she didn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she looked up at him, her dark eyes completely unreadable.
"Samuel," Heena said softly.
Samuel completely froze. His hands, which were just pulling the heavy quilt over her, stalled in mid-air. She almost never called him by his actual name unless she was actively plotting something, threatening him, or... something else entirely.
"Yes, Wife?" Samuel asked, his golden eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and immediate suspicion.
Heena offered him a soft, incredibly rare smile. It was a perfectly crafted expression—gentle, slightly vulnerable, and entirely manipulative. She reached up, placing both of her hands behind his neck, her fingers lightly clasping together to keep him leaning over her.
"You want to be married to me, right?" Heena asked, her voice dropping to a quiet, intimate murmur.
Samuel let out a soft breath, the tension in his shoulders melting just a fraction. "Of course I do."
"Well," Heena continued, tracing the collar of his silk robe with her thumb. "You know, in my family, there is a very strict, ancient ritual we do for newly married couples. I actually wanted to go to the temple and do it myself... but as you know, I am currently ’sick,’ and I also have to tutor the young prince at the palace. I simply cannot leave the capital."
Samuel listened quietly, his brilliant mind already analyzing every single word she was saying.
"So, how about this?" Heena proposed, looking at him with wide, entirely fake innocence. "Can you go to the Vanguard family’s ancestral Worship temple in the mountains? You just need to pray for me... for about eight to nine days. Completely without any disturbance."
Samuel paused. The romantic atmosphere in the room suddenly hit a massive, logical roadblock.
"Eight to nine days?" Samuel repeated slowly, his golden eyes searching her face. Sending a newlywed husband away to a remote mountain temple for over a week was an incredibly suspicious request, even by Vanguard standards.
Heena nodded solemnly, not breaking character for a single second.
"It is said that if the husband prays wholeheartedly in absolute isolation, the heavens will listen to his wish," Heena explained, her tone dripping with fake reverence. "It will grant us a lovely marriage and a long, peaceful life partnership."
She let out a soft, dramatic sigh, looking away as if deeply troubled.
"If you don’t want to do it, then don’t do it," Heena murmured, playing her final, masterful card. "But it is a sacred ritual, you know. It is quite unfortunate... my father refused to do it when he married, and you know exactly how his marriage ended in complete disaster. But it is fine. If you are too busy..."
Samuel stared down at his brilliant, sociopathic wife.
He knew she was lying. He knew the Vanguard family, a clan of blood-soaked military generals, absolutely did not have a peaceful, week-long Buddhist prayer ritual for newlyweds. And he knew that whenever she brought up her disastrous family history, it was purely for emotional blackmail.
She was trying to get him out of the capital. She was deliberately sending him to an isolated mountain with no communication for over a week.
But looking at her soft smile and feeling her hands around his neck, the scholar decided to play along. He would go to the temple, but he would absolutely leave his shadow guards behind in the capital to watch her every single move.
"Hmm," Samuel hummed, a low, knowing vibration in his chest.
He smiled, sliding his arms securely around her waist and pulling her flush against him. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, his golden eyes gleaming with profound, dark affection.
"So, my wife wants me to do it," Samuel whispered, thoroughly amused by her elaborate scheming. "If you want me to do it, just say so. Why roll around and make up so many stories?"
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