Chapter 221 --221
A collective shudder ran through the hall. But she wasn’t finished.
"And while I am on the front lines," Heena continued, a sharp, predatory smile playing on her lips, "I will leave the absolute power of the regency to my Aunt. So, by all means, keep shouting. I’ll sign the transfer of power right now. You all remember what she’s like, don’t you?"
The silence that followed was absolute. It was as if every noble in the room had suddenly been struck by a collective case of deafness. Their protests died in their throats, replaced by a deep, primal chill.
They remembered. Oh, they remembered the Duchess’s youth all too well. Back when the previous Emperor still breathed, a faction of arrogant nobles had dared to corner her in the court, shouting and demanding answers with the same entitled anger they had shown Larus today. The Duchess hadn’t argued. She had simply raised a hand and turned the three loudest agitators into slimy, wriggling worms. She had dropped them into a glass jar and spent three days experimenting on their tiny, squirming forms before turning them back into broken, gibbering humans who never dared to speak above a whisper again.
Heena was dangerous, certainly. She killed calmly, usually provided a reason, and at least gave you the courtesy of a warning before she started the harvest. But her Aunt? God damn, that woman would chop your head off first and ask the questions to your corpse later. If she was in charge, she’d turn half the court into cockroaches just to save on the palace’s grocery bill.
"Now," Heena whispered, her eyes sweeping over the paralyzed crowd. "Get. Out."
The nobles didn’t just leave; they fled. The rustle of their robes sounded like the wings of a thousand panicked birds as they scrambled for the exits.
As the massive doors finally groaned shut, the adrenaline that had been keeping Heena upright evaporated. She stumbled slightly, her vision blurring at the edges as the poison’s lingering toxins flared up in her system.
"Your Majesty!" Duke Robbiston was there in a heartbeat, his iron-hard grip catching her by the elbow before she could hit the floor.
Larus was right behind him, his face a mask of frantic, unbridled terror. Heena raised a trembling hand, waving them off with a weak, dismissive gesture.
"It’s okay... I’m fine," she rasped, her eyes half-lidded with bone-deep exhaustion. "Just... tired."
Duke Robbiston let out a heavy, weary sigh, his weathered face etched with concern. But before he could even utter a word of advice, Larus lunged forward.
He didn’t just embrace her; he hugged her so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge her into his own skin. Heena could feel the frantic, staccato beat of his heart against her own.
"Thank God," Larus whispered, his voice trembling with a vulnerability that he had never shown in open court. "Thank God you’re safe. Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought I’d lost you before we even started."
His hands—the same hands that had been stone-steady while addressing the traitors—were shaking violently against her back. Heena remained frozen for a second, her mind trying to process the raw, unfiltered emotion radiating from him.
She reached up, her good hand awkwardly tapping his shoulder in a rhythmic, grounding pattern.
"Larus... honey," she breathed, her voice muffled against his navy silk robes. "Let me go before I actually die for real this time. I can’t breathe."
Heena settled back against her pillows, the movement graceful despite the lingering exhaustion from her "miraculous" recovery. Larus hovered over her with an overprotective focus that bordered on the suffocating, his eyes searching hers for any sign of a relapse.
"I’m really fine, I’ve told you so many times," Heena huffed, her voice regaining that sharp, nonchalant edge. Larus looked at her with an expression of flat disbelief, his blue eyes searching for the truth beneath her pride.
The royal physician, who had been trembling in the corner since the throne room debacle, stepped forward to offer a fresh assessment. After a few moments of checking her vitals, he spoke with a cautious, happy lilt. "Her Majesty is better than before."
Larus whirled on the man, his patience for the imperial staff having evaporated during twenty days of silent fury. "Before, you could not even identify what type of poison was in her system, and now you are suddenly saying she is better than before, huh?" He looked ready to launch into a full interrogation, his protective instincts flaring into something lethal.
Heena raised her hand, cutting through the tension with practiced ease. She leveled a flat, dismissive look at the physician. "Out."
The man didn’t need to be told twice; he bowed frantically and scurried from the chambers as if the floor were made of hot coals. Once the heavy doors clicked shut, Heena turned her attention to the man sitting at her bedside.
"Enough," she said, her tone softening slightly. She reached out and pulled Larus toward the edge of the bed, gesturing for him to sit. "Calm down and tell me your plan."
Larus let out a long, ragged groan, his shoulders finally dropping as he sat beside her. He sighed, looking at his hands as if the answers were etched into his palms. "Well, what plan could I have?"
Heena watched him closely, her "Black Lotus" instincts already dismantling the board. "How are you going to take care of the Marus Kingdom? I cannot understand this so-called reason for a fight; the treaty is signed, and we are already supporting them. Why would they rebel now?"
Larus didn’t answer immediately. He looked toward the window, his gaze distant. "My father is not a particularly good ruler, but it does not mean he is a foolish person. From what I know of his courage, I don’t think it is his plan to start this war. I think someone is behind this."
A dangerous, knowing smile formed on Heena’s face, her eyes glinting with a dark satisfaction. Larus looked at her, confused by the sudden amusement. "Is something funny, Your Majesty?"
"Well, I am thinking that my husband is actually quite a smart guy," Heena said, her voice dropping into a lethal, nonchalant purr.
Larus frowned, still processing the compliment. "It is quite easy to identify," he continued, his voice steadying. "From how much I know my father, my family, and the kingdom, I know it is not them who started this battle. Marus is not the one pulling the strings."
"Exactly," Heena agreed, her eyes narrowing with a predatory focus. "They knew we would respond to a provocation from your homeland. They are likely using your previous knowledge of our attack strategies against us. But they are not wrong to be afraid."
She sat up slightly, her posture radiating absolute authority even in her sleepwear. "Even if it is a trap, if the Marus Kingdom dares to lay a single hand on any of my people, I will personally chop off their hands with my own sword."
She looked Larus directly in the eye, the weight of the crown settling between them. "So, I’m giving you a choice, Larus. Go and find whatever you can—do whatever you must—to stop this battle before it begins. Because after two weeks, I will be in that war. And you know that once I am on the battlefield, there is no one born yet who can stop me."