Chapter 491 --491
The moment her boots hit the pristine white marble of the courtyard, Heena’s eyes locked onto a middle-aged woman waiting at the base of the steps.
She wasn’t dressed in the flashy, colorful silks of the concubines, nor was she dripping in heavy gold jewelry. Her attire was perfectly tailored, subdued, and devoid of excessive makeup. But the sheer quality of the fabric and the arrogant tilt of her chin instantly gave her identity away. She held the quiet, dangerous wealth of someone who wielded massive proxy power.
It was the Empress’s right-hand nanny, the Head Maid of the inner palace.
The woman looked at Heena with completely dead, calculating eyes. She didn’t offer a single smile. She simply gave a standard, stiff bow and said, "The Empress is calling for you."
Heena just gave a single, dismissive nod. She didn’t bow back. She didn’t even offer a verbal greeting.
Seeing this blatant lack of respect, a flicker of genuine shock and offense crossed the older woman’s face. In this palace, even high-ranking ministers usually tripped over themselves to flatter the Empress’s most trusted servant.
The Head Maid turned on her heel, and they began to walk toward the Empress’s quarters. But after only a few paces, the woman suddenly paused. She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing as they swept over Heena’s form.
"Are you... forgetting something, My Lady?" the Head Maid asked, her tone dripping with passive-aggressive implication.
Heena stopped. She calmly looked down at herself, checked the drape of her wine-colored robe, and then looked back up at the servant with absolute indifference.
"No," Heena replied flatly. "I am not."
Resting securely against Heena’s waist was a long, steel sword. For anyone else, carrying a weapon into the inner palace was an immediate death sentence. But the Marcuset family held a permanent, blood-forged exemption from the Emperor himself. They were the Vanguard; they were legally permitted to bear arms in the Imperial presence due to their generations of military sacrifice.
But Heena knew perfectly well that this woman wasn’t talking about the sword.
The Head Maid’s expectant, icy glare was practically screaming, ’’Why didn’t you formally greet me?’’
Heena mentally scoffed, entirely unbothered by the silent demand. She knew exactly what her status was. As the sole heir to the Vanguard, she was required to bow to the Emperor, the Empress, and the Princes. That was the absolute limit.
Did this woman honestly think she was an idiot? Did she genuinely believe that the future matriarch of the empire’s greatest military family was going to lower her head to a glorified palace servant?
’’This old dog has clearly lost her mind,’’ Heena thought coldly, resting her hand casually on the pommel of her sword. She simply stared the Head Maid down, waiting for her to either drop the attitude or openly challenge a Marcuset on the palace steps.
The Head Maid stared at Heena for a tense second. Realizing she wasn’t going to win this battle of wills, she bit the inside of her cheek in sheer frustration, turned on her heel, and started walking again.
Heena casually followed her through the winding, opulent corridors until they finally arrived at the grand, gilded doors of the Empress’s private quarters.
"Wait here," the Head Maid instructed, her tone returning to its haughty baseline. "I shall go inside and announce your arrival to Her Majesty."
Heena silently noted the woman’s arrogant attitude, her face remaining a completely unreadable mask. She watched as the maid slipped through the heavy doors, leaving her standing alone on the marble terrace.
One minute passed. Then two. Then three.
By the time five entire minutes had ticked by, the political reality of the situation was glaringly obvious. This wasn’t a delay; this was a deliberate, calculated display of power. The Empress was testing her, trying to force the terrifying new heir of the Marcuset Vanguard to stand outside her doors like an obedient, lowly servant waiting for a scrap of attention.
Heena wasn’t going to play that game.
Without a single word, she simply turned around and started walking back the way she came.
Inside the antechamber, the Head Maid—who had just been standing by the door, deliberately letting the clock run—heard the unmistakable, rhythmic clicking of Heena’s boots walking ’away’.
Her eyes widened in absolute panic. She threw the heavy doors open and rushed out onto the terrace. "Where do you think you are going?!" she demanded, staring at Heena’s retreating back.
Heena paused. She slowly turned her head, fixing the frantic servant with a look of absolute, freezing disdain.
"If I am expected to stand outside like a stray dog for hours just to see Her Majesty—especially when ’she’ is the one who summoned me—then I do not think this meeting is necessary," Heena stated coldly.
The Head Maid looked at her in sheer disbelief. "Her Majesty the Empress explicitly told you to wait!"
Heena turned fully around, her dark, fox-like eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
"Why?" Heena asked, her voice echoing sharply across the quiet courtyard. "Is Her Majesty suddenly gravely ill? Is she currently entertaining a nobleman whose rank is vastly superior to the Vanguard’s? If neither of those things is true, then I have absolutely no reason to stand out here. Aside from His Majesty the Emperor himself, no one in this entire empire has the authority to make me wait. The Marcuset family is not a palace plaything for you to test."
The Head Maid’s face turned completely red with indignation. She opened her mouth, fully prepared to shout a reprimand for such blatant treason, when a soft, melodic voice drifted from the doorway.
"You have completely misunderstood, noble lady."
The Head Maid instantly snapped her mouth shut and dropped into a deep, trembling bow.
Stepping out from the shadows of the doorway was the Empress. She was draped in flawless, pale gold silks, her hair pinned with exquisite phoenix ornaments. Her face was perfectly serene, radiating a soft, benevolent, almost motherly smile that didn’t reach her calculating eyes.
Heena immediately recognized the venom hiding beneath that gentle facade. She offered a perfectly measured, entirely minimal curtsy—just enough to satisfy protocol, but not an inch lower.
"Greetings to Your Majesty," Heena said smoothly.
The Empress’s gentle smile deepened, though a sharp glint flashed in her eyes at Heena’s lackluster bow. "Were you in such a terrible rush to leave, child? Is there something wrong with the hospitality of my palace?"
Heena stood up straight, matching the Empress’s fake warmth with a flawlessly polite, brilliant smile of her own.
"No, Your Majesty. There is absolutely nothing wrong," Heena replied, her voice dripping with lethal sweetness. "I simply assumed that you were far too busy with important matters to receive me. Therefore, I thought it would be best to leave your courtyard and go directly to the Emperor’s pavilion. I figured I would just ask His Majesty why I was summoned to the inner palace today, so as not to waste any more of your precious time."
The air on the terrace instantly froze.
It was a beautiful, devastating political checkmate. Heena had just calmly threatened to bypass the Empress entirely and drag the Emperor himself into whatever scheme the Empress was currently brewing.