Chapter 643 --643
Samuel set her down gently on the velvet fainting couch, completely ignoring the freezing winter wind howling through the massive hole in the roof. His golden eyes were entirely dark, burning with a quiet, possessive intensity that made the air between them feel suffocatingly heavy.
Heena leaned back against the plush cushions, looking up at the towering scholar. The cold, calculating Vanguard Madam who had just commanded an execution squad was gone. In her place was a quiet, fierce anticipation.
He reached out, his knuckles lightly grazing the side of her neck, tracking the rapid flutter of her pulse. His touch was agonizingly slow, a stark contrast to the ruthless man who had hurled her ex-fiancé out of a window just moments prior.
"You are entirely too calm for a woman whose wedding night was just crashed by an assassin," Samuel murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rough rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.
"And you talk way too much for a man who claims to be a devoted husband," Heena shot back, though her breath hitched noticeably as his fingers traced the edge of her white inner robes.
A low, dark chuckle vibrated deep in Samuel’s chest. He didn’t argue. Instead, his hands moved to the silk tie of his own crimson robe, pulling it loose with a single, fluid motion. The heavy fabric slipped from his broad shoulders, pooling onto the floor and revealing the lean, heavily muscled chest beneath his scholar’s facade.
Heena didn’t hesitate for a second. She reached up, her hands sliding into his loose dark hair, and forcefully pulled him down to her level.
The kiss was no longer a political statement, and it wasn’t a display of dominance meant to terrify the civil court. It was completely, overwhelmingly consuming. Samuel pressed her back against the velvet cushions, his weight settling over her—warm, solid, and completely unyielding. The sarcastic banter evaporated entirely, replaced by the desperate, heavy rhythm of their breaths.
His large hands smoothed down her sides, pulling her flush against him. The thin silk of her inner robes felt entirely useless against the searing heat of his touch. Every movement he made was deliberate and deeply reverent, slowly stripping away the impossible walls she had built around herself for so long. He kissed her jaw, her neck, drawing a quiet, breathless gasp from her lips that made his golden eyes darken even further.
For a woman who was constantly fighting a losing war against the empire, against the timeline, and against her own failing body, this was the absolute only place she allowed herself to surrender. She tangled her fingers in his robes, anchoring herself to the only man brilliant and crazy enough to stand by her side.
The flickering light of the remaining red dragon-and-phoenix candles cast long, dancing shadows across the room, bathing the fainting couch in a warm golden glow. The ruined bed and the political wars of the capital felt a million miles away.
In the quiet of the destroyed chamber, the genius scholar and the dying general finally claimed each other, letting the rest of the world completely fade into the dark.
.
.
.
At exactly two in the morning, Heena’s eyes snapped open in the dark.
The warmth of the fainting couch and the heavy, rhythmic breathing of the man beside her were intoxicating, but the Vanguard Madam had a schedule to keep. She turned her head, looking at Samuel, who was deeply asleep, his arm still possessively thrown across her waist.
Moving with agonizing caution, Heena reached into the pocket of her discarded white robe on the floor. She pulled out a small, silk handkerchief laced with a potent, odorless sleeping herb. Gently, she pressed it over Samuel’s nose and mouth for a few seconds. He took a few deep breaths, his body relaxing completely into an unnaturally heavy slumber.
To be absolutely sure, Heena snapped her fingers sharply three times right next to his ear.
He didn’t even twitch.
Slowly, Heena lifted his heavy arm and slipped out from underneath him. The moment her bare feet hit the cold floor, her legs nearly gave out. She gripped the edge of the velvet couch, gritting her teeth against the deep, throbbing soreness in her lower back and thighs.
Damn this bastard,’’ Heena cursed internally, glaring at the sleeping scholar. He has way too much stamina.’’
Suppressing a groan, she gathered her discarded clothes and quietly slipped into the outer room. She quickly stripped off the bridal silks and changed into a plain, inconspicuous maid’s uniform.
Moving like a ghost through her own estate, Heena bypassed the main corridors and slipped directly into her private study. She closed and locked the heavy oak doors behind her.
She walked over to the towering mahogany bookshelf, her fingers tracing the leather-bound spines until they rested on a thick volume titled ’History of the Empire’. She pulled the book sharply forward.
With a low, mechanical ’click’, the entire bookshelf smoothly swung outward, revealing a dark, narrow stone staircase. Heena stepped inside, pulling the lever on the wall. The bookshelf silently clicked back into place behind her, leaving the study completely empty and flawless.
For three minutes, Heena descended deep into the underground network of the Vanguard estate. The air grew cold and damp until she finally stepped out into the dimly lit, heavily fortified stone corridors of the estate’s private dungeon.
She pushed open the heavy iron door of the primary interrogation room.
Kael was already standing inside, his arms crossed over his massive chest. "My lady," Kael greeted, bowing respectfully as she entered.
Heena nodded, her dark eyes shifting to the second man standing in the center of the room. He was still wearing the black stealth suit, but his posture was completely different from the crying, pathetic mess he had been upstairs. He immediately dropped to one knee, bowing deeply.
"My lady," the man greeted, his voice entirely different from Kavien’s whining tone.
Heena looked at his face. It was the exact replica of Kavien—every pathetic contour and cowardly feature was flawless.
"He looks exactly like him, huh?" Heena noted dryly.
"He is one of the most prominent makeup and disguise artists in the underground," Kael smiled fiercely. "Flawless execution, Madam. The civil court completely bought it. They actually believe they hired a rat to ruin your wedding, only for it to backfire in their faces."
Heena didn’t smile. She reached into her sleeve, pulled out a heavy silk pouch, and tossed it directly at the kneeling man.
The artist caught it gracefully and peeked inside. His eyes widened astronomically. It was packed with over a hundred taels of pure silver—an absolute fortune that could buy a minor estate.
"I thank the Master for this overwhelming generosity," the man said, bowing so low his forehead touched the cold stone floor.
Heena stepped closer, her voice dropping into a cold, absolute command. "Do not ever appear here again. And do not ’ever’ use that face again."
"You have my word, Master," the artist swore instantly. "Never again."
"Leave the capital by dawn," Heena ordered smoothly, her dark eyes flashing in the torchlight. "If I ever see you inside the city walls again, you won’t live long enough to paint another face."
The man nodded furiously. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cloth soaked in a specialized solvent, and aggressively wiped his face. Within seconds, the pathetic features of Kavien melted away, leaving behind the completely ordinary, forgettable face of a stranger.
Seeing the disguise removed, Kael sighed in relief and snapped his fingers. Two Vanguard shadow guards stepped out of the darkness.
"Escort him out through the hidden tunnels," Kael ordered. "Make sure he leaves the capital safely."