Chapter 485 --485
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By the time the unmarked carriage slipped through the heavily guarded side gates of the Marcuset estate, the mid-morning sun was high in the sky.
Heena stepped out of the carriage. She mentally reinforced her walls, locking away the fatigue, the pain, and the lingering nausea. As she walked through the sprawling, manicured courtyards toward her private wing, the passing servants immediately stopped and bowed deeply, entirely intimidated by the cold, majestic aura of their young Madam.
None of them could possibly guess that she had been squatting in a dirty alleyway, fighting for her life just an hour ago.
Heena turned the final corner toward her chambers, longing for nothing more than to strip off her heavy cloak and collapse into her bed.
But as she stepped into her private courtyard, her footsteps came to a dead halt.
Standing right in the middle of the courtyard, bathed in the morning sunlight, was Samuel.
He was still wearing the luxurious magenta silk robes that made him look like a breathtakingly handsome young lord. In his hands, he held an intricately carved sandalwood box, secured with a delicate silver ribbon. He had clearly just returned from his shopping trip in the capital and was waiting patiently for her.
The moment he heard her footsteps, Samuel turned around. A warm, incredibly soft smile instantly bloomed across his face.
"Seera," he called out, his voice rich and full of absolute devotion. "You’re back. I—"
Samuel’s voice abruptly cut off.
His smile didn’t just fade; it vanished instantly, replaced by a look of sharp, terrifying intensity. The heavy sandalwood box in his hands was practically forgotten as his dark eyes locked onto her face.
Heena had perfected her mask. Her posture was flawless, her expression cold and indifferent. But Samuel wasn’t looking at her posture.
He was looking at the unnatural, chalky pallor of her skin. He was looking at the faint sheen of cold sweat lingering at her temples. He saw the microscopic tremor in her left hand, and the way she was subtly shifting her weight onto her right leg to keep from swaying.
Without a single word, Samuel closed the distance between them in three massive, rapid strides.
"What happened?" Samuel demanded, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. He didn’t wait for an answer. He immediately reached out, his large, warm hands firmly grasping her upper arms to stabilize her.
"Nothing happened," Heena lied smoothly, immediately trying to step back and pull out of his grip. "Let go of me, Samuel. I am just tired."
"Don’t lie to me," Samuel growled softly, his grip tightening just enough to keep her anchored, but not enough to hurt her. His eyes frantically scanned her face, searching for any sign of injury. "You are completely pale. You are shaking, Seera."
Heena gritted her teeth. Her head was still throbbing, and dealing with his hyper-fixated, suffocating attention was the absolute last thing she had the energy for right now.
"I said I am fine!" Heena snapped, her voice cracking slightly with genuine exhaustion. She violently shoved against his chest. "I just need to sleep! Back off!"
But instead of backing off, Samuel did the exact opposite.
He smoothly shifted his grip, wrapping one strong arm securely around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest, completely ignoring her resistance. With his other hand, he gently pressed her head against his shoulder.
"Then sleep," Samuel whispered, his voice suddenly losing all its commanding edge, turning incredibly gentle and heartbreakingly desperate. "Just rest, Seera. I’ve got you. I’m right here."
Surrounded by the warm, faint scent of jasmine and the sturdy, unyielding strength of his embrace, Heena’s tense muscles involuntarily betrayed her. For one brief, terrifying second, she actually relaxed against him, completely exhausted by the sheer weight of carrying her own impending death.
Seeing Heena stand up to greet her, the grandmother immediately waved her hand. "No, no. Sit down. It is okay."
Slowly, the formidable matriarch walked over to her lovely granddaughter. She pulled out a chair, sat down across from her, and looked at her with deep, searching eyes. "How are you feeling, child?"
Heena nodded, keeping her expression bright. "Of course I am feeling well, Granny. Why? What happened?"
The grandmother looked at her warmly, letting out a soft sigh. "You know... when you were a child and you used to get hurt, you would just stay completely silent. You never cried as much as the other children. It was always quite hard to figure out if you were sad, or in pain, or completely fine."
She reached out across the table. "But there is only one problem with that. I know you quite well. I have raised you since you were little. From the slight way you frown, to your sad expressions, to the exact way your face moves... I can tell exactly what you are thinking. So do not try to hide anything from me."
Heena looked back at her calmly, her mask flawless. "Grandma, I am not trying to hide anything."
Hearing that, the grandmother looked at her intently. She reached out and gently patted Heena’s hair, her voice softening as she said...
"...’Liar.’"
The word was spoken with immense, heavy affection, completely devoid of any real anger. But the exact second the grandmother’s hand rested affectionately on top of Heena’s head, that same sharp, electric spike of agony flared directly behind her eyes.
Heena’s breath hitched on a microscopic level. Her heart rate violently spiked. Unlike with Samuel, she couldn’t just casually pull away or distract her. Her grandmother’s hawk-like, terrifyingly perceptive eyes were fixed entirely on her face. If Heena flinched, if she showed even a fraction of a second of pain, the old woman would instantly know something was catastrophically wrong with her physical body.
So, Heena sat perfectly still, actively swallowing the blinding pain whole while maintaining a calm, soft smile.
"You are just as hopelessly stubborn as your grandfather," the grandmother sighed, entirely oblivious to the physical hell her gentle touch was causing. She finally withdrew her hand and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.
Heena discreetly let out the breath she had been holding. The pain immediately began to recede back into a dull ache.
"Samuel came to see us," the grandmother continued, her warm expression shifting into one of deep, terrifying seriousness. "He told your grandfather that you have suddenly requested to enter the Imperial Palace tomorrow to take up your post as the Royal Tutor."
The grandmother’s eyes narrowed. "You collapsed on the dining hall floor this very morning, Seera. You have been through a massive trauma. And now, before you have even rested for a single full day, you want to walk directly into the Empress’s domain? Why the sudden rush?"
Heena smoothly picked up a small piece of plum cake, taking a delicate bite to look entirely nonchalant and relaxed.
"The longer I wait, the weaker our family looks, Grandma," Heena replied, her tone perfectly rational and pragmatic. "The Empress sent an official Imperial decree. If I hide in this estate for too long, using my exhaustion as an excuse, the noble factions will start whispering that the Vanguard’s heir is a coward, or that I have been permanently crippled by my own mother’s betrayal."