Chapter 6: The Night Before the Storm

While the Duke’s estate prepared to send away a daughter it had long since abandoned, another storm was gathering behind the walls of the Regent King’s residence.

The estate appeared silent beneath the moonlight. Its black-tiled roofs and towering stone walls gave it the severe appearance of a military fortress rather than a royal home. Armed guards patrolled every corridor, their movements precise and disciplined. No servant spoke above a whisper, and no one lingered where they had not been ordered to stand.

At the center of the estate was an obsidian-colored study that few people were permitted to enter.

Inside, Arthur sat behind a broad wooden desk in a grand wheelchair. A thick black fur blanket covered his legs, while the dim candlelight emphasized the unnatural paleness of his face. His breathing appeared shallow, and one hand rested weakly on the arm of the chair.

To an outsider, he looked exactly as the rumors described him—a poisoned, crippled warlord waiting for death.

Only after the doors were shut and the final servant had departed did the weakness vanish from his eyes.

Arthur rose.

The movement was silent and effortless.

He cast the fur blanket aside and stepped away from the wheelchair with the controlled grace of a predator. There was no stiffness in his legs and no sign of paralysis. Although the Frost Poison still lingered within his meridians, the encounter in the forest had restored enough sensation for him to walk again.

For now, that fact remained one of the most closely guarded secrets in the Great Yuan Dynasty.

Luke stood several steps away with his head lowered. He had followed Arthur through countless battles and had seen entire armies tremble at the Regent King’s arrival, yet the pressure filling the study still made cold sweat gather along his back.

“Have you found her?” Arthur asked.

His voice was quiet.

That made the question more dangerous.

Luke immediately dropped to one knee.

“Your Highness, our men searched the forest, the nearby villages, and every road leading toward the capital. We found the remains of the Blood Sect assassins, along with traces of several poisons, but there was no clear sign of the woman.”

Arthur said nothing.

Luke lowered his head further.

“She left almost no tracks. The few footprints we discovered disappeared beside a rocky stream. Whoever she is, she knows how to conceal her trail.”

Arthur crossed the room and stopped near the window.

Moonlight fell across his face, sharpening the cold lines of his features. In one hand, he held a broken piece of jade.

It was scratched, inexpensive, and clearly belonged to a woman’s hairpin. Under ordinary circumstances, such an object would never have entered the Regent King’s study.

Yet Arthur had carried it with him since the night in the forest.

“She is not an ordinary woman,” he said.

Luke dared not disagree.

“She recognized the Frost Poison almost immediately. She understood meridians, pressure points, and the movement of toxins. More importantly, she managed to extract part of the poison without damaging my heart.”

Arthur’s fingers tightened around the jade.

Even the imperial physicians had failed to accomplish that.

Luke hesitated before asking, “Could she belong to the Blood Sect?”

“No.”

Arthur’s answer came without uncertainty.

The Blood Sect had spent years searching for a method to kill him. If the woman had been one of their people, she would have finished the task while he was helpless.

Instead, she had saved him.

Of course, her method of saving him had been so outrageous that the memory alone sent a flicker of anger through his eyes.

Arthur could still remember the heat of her body against his, the fearless mockery in her voice, and the way she had looked down at him as though he were nothing more than a convenient antidote.

No one in the empire had ever treated him with such insolence.

“Search the capital again,” Arthur ordered. “Visit the apothecaries, physicians, mercenary houses, and underground markets. Look for any woman who recently purchased herbs for poison treatment.”

Luke bowed.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Do not underestimate her. She may disguise her face, her voice, or even her identity.”

Arthur turned the jade fragment between his fingers.

“Even if you must dig beneath every street in the capital, find her.”

Luke’s expression tightened.

“Alive?”

Arthur’s gaze became unreadable.

“Alive.”

The single word left no room for interpretation.

Luke remained kneeling, but he did not leave. Arthur noticed immediately.

“What else?”

Luke took a careful breath.

“The wedding is tomorrow. The Duke’s eldest daughter, Scarlett, will arrive before sunset. How would Your Highness like the estate to receive her?”

Arthur released a quiet, humorless laugh.

The imperial marriage decree had arrived at a convenient time. Too convenient.

Everyone in the capital knew Harrison’s eldest daughter was said to be ugly, foolish, and weak. She had no political influence and no respected relatives willing to protect her.

That was precisely why the Emperor had chosen her.

A clever wife might help Arthur rebuild his power. A beautiful wife might attract allies. A daughter beloved by her family might connect the Regent King’s estate to another influential faction.

Scarlett offered none of those advantages.

To the imperial court, she was disposable.

Arthur understood the message hidden beneath the marriage decree. The Emperor wanted to humiliate him while placing a woman from Harrison’s household inside his estate. Whether Scarlett knew it or not, she could serve as a spy, a hostage, or a tool for spreading rumors.

“The Emperor thinks a useless woman will lower my guard,” Arthur said. “He believes he can place Harrison’s daughter beside me and learn what happens inside these walls.”

Luke’s expression hardened.

“Shall we prevent her from entering?”

“No. Refusing an imperial marriage would give the palace the excuse it wants.”

Arthur returned to the desk.

“Let her come.”

“And after she arrives?”

“If she understands her position and remains quiet, assign her an isolated courtyard. Give her enough food and servants to preserve appearances. She may live there without interference.”

Arthur’s eyes darkened.

“If she attempts to send information to Harrison or the palace…”

He did not finish.

He did not need to.

The temperature in the room seemed to fall.

Luke bowed until his forehead nearly touched the floor.

“Understood.”

He rose and moved toward the door, but Arthur spoke again before he could leave.

“Has the Duke’s daughter ever been associated with medicine?”

Luke paused.

“Not that we know of. Reports describe her as mentally impaired. She rarely leaves the estate and cannot read more than a few simple characters.”

Arthur’s expression remained cold, though something faintly dissatisfied entered his gaze.

“Then she is irrelevant.”

Luke departed.

The study returned to silence.

Arthur looked toward the distant western side of the capital, where the Duke’s estate stood behind its ornate walls.

He should have been thinking about the Emperor, Harrison, or the traitors who had lured him into the forest.

Instead, his mind returned to a scent.

Wild orchids.

It had lingered on the mysterious woman’s skin, delicate but unmistakable. Even now, he occasionally imagined catching the fragrance in empty corridors, and each time, an unfamiliar heat stirred beneath the frost in his blood.

Arthur lowered his gaze to the broken jade.

“Where are you?” he whispered.

The fragment creaked beneath the pressure of his fingers.

He loosened his grip before it shattered.

Whoever the woman was, he would find her.

And when he did, she would explain everything.

Chapter 7: The Cold Welcome

The wedding day arrived without music.

There were no firecrackers outside the Duke’s estate, no musicians lining the street, and no joyful relatives offering blessings. Even the red decorations hanging near the entrance looked old, as though they had been retrieved from storage at the last moment.

Scarlett was dressed in a wedding robe that had once belonged to a distant cousin. The silk was faded, the embroidery unfinished, and one sleeve was slightly too long.

Lady Eleanor claimed there had not been enough time to prepare a proper gown.

Scarlett knew better.

The wedding was intended to humiliate both her and Arthur.

Harrison did not appear to see her off. Tiffany watched from behind a carved window, her expression filled with satisfaction. Lady Eleanor offered a few false tears before reminding Scarlett not to disgrace the family.

No dowry accompanied the bride except for two worn wooden chests containing cheap fabric, cracked ornaments, and several objects that clearly belonged to someone else.

Mia was the only person whose sorrow was genuine.

She stood beside the sedan chair with red-rimmed eyes, clutching a small bundle of Scarlett’s real belongings.

“My lady, please be careful,” Mia whispered.

Scarlett squeezed her hand.

“Stay close to me and observe everything. Do not trust anyone from the Duke’s estate once we leave.”

Mia nodded quickly.

Scarlett lowered the red veil over her face and entered the sedan chair.

The procession consisted of only a few low-ranking servants and four indifferent guards. They complained loudly as they traveled, making no effort to conceal their contempt.

“The Regent King might throw her out before sunset.”

“Perhaps he will kill her before she even enters.”

“Then we won’t have to carry the empty sedan back.”

Their laughter followed Scarlett through the streets.

She sat in silence, reviewing possible dangers.

Marriage to Arthur could offer protection from Harrison and the imperial court, but it could also place her inside a more dangerous battlefield. Arthur was no helpless nobleman. Even poisoned and lying on the forest floor, he had radiated enough killing intent to freeze an ordinary person’s blood.

Scarlett needed to determine what he wanted, what he feared, and how much he already knew about her.

The sedan finally stopped.

Outside stood the massive red gates of the Regent King’s estate.

They remained closed.

There were no servants waiting with wedding lanterns and no ceremonial officials prepared to welcome the bride. Only armed guards stood along the stone steps.

A cold voice reached the sedan.

“His Highness is unwell and cannot participate in unnecessary ceremonies. The Princess Consort may enter through the side gate.”

The speaker was Luke.

He stood in dark military robes with his arms folded behind his back. His expression revealed nothing, but his eyes carefully studied the sedan chair.

The servants from the Duke’s estate immediately began to whisper.

“She cannot even use the main gate.”

“What did she expect? She is the Ugly Fool.”

“The Regent King probably fears that one look at her face will worsen his illness.”

Scarlett heard every word.

She felt no embarrassment.

In the customs of the Great Yuan Dynasty, forcing a lawful bride to enter through the side gate was a deliberate insult. A woman admitted in such a manner could be treated as a concubine rather than the official Princess Consort.

Scarlett, however, had not come in search of affection or ceremonial respect.

A side entrance meant fewer witnesses, fewer officials, and less attention.

For her purposes, it was almost convenient.

Before the maid assigned to open the sedan could approach, Scarlett pushed aside the curtain and stepped out.

The whispering stopped.

Although her face remained hidden beneath the veil, there was nothing clumsy or foolish about her posture. She moved calmly, her back straight and her steps measured. Even the worn wedding robe seemed more dignified once she wore it.

Mia hurried to follow.

Luke’s eyes narrowed.

According to every report, Harrison’s eldest daughter was timid, slow-witted, and terrified of strangers. The woman walking toward him displayed none of those traits.

He stepped slightly into her path.

“Princess Consort.”

Scarlett stopped.

“This estate follows military discipline,” Luke said. “The rules here are stricter than those of the Duke’s household. His Highness values silence, obedience, and loyalty.”

Scarlett tilted her head.

“Those sound reasonable.”

Luke had expected tears, confusion, or frightened agreement.

Instead, she added, “As long as the rules apply to everyone.”

A faint tension appeared in his expression.

“No one in this estate is exempt from His Highness’s commands.”

“Good.”

Scarlett moved to walk past him.

Luke shifted again, blocking her by half a step.

“There are places within the estate that you may not enter. There are questions you may not ask. Messages entering or leaving will be inspected.”

Beneath the veil, Scarlett smiled.

It was not merely a warning.

He was testing her.

“Then I assume the same inspection applies to anyone who sends a message in my name.”

Luke’s gaze sharpened.

That was not the response of a fool.

Scarlett stepped around him before he could continue.

“I like rules,” she said. “They make it easier to identify who is breaking them.”

She walked through the side gate without waiting for permission.

Mia followed, trying to hide her surprise.

The servants from the Duke’s estate exchanged uneasy glances. They had expected Scarlett to cry after being humiliated. Instead, she entered the Regent King’s estate as though the walls already belonged to her.

Luke remained on the steps.

He watched her until the red figure disappeared beyond the corridor.

One of his guards approached.

“Commander Luke, should we report anything unusual?”

Luke’s eyes remained fixed on the side gate.

“Report everything.”

He had spent years judging soldiers, assassins, and spies by their smallest movements. Scarlett’s footsteps were too balanced. Her breathing was too controlled. Her awareness of the surrounding guards was too precise.

That girl was hiding something.

Luke turned toward the main residence.

For the first time, he wondered whether the Emperor had sent Arthur a spy—or whether someone far more dangerous had entered their estate.

Chapter 8: The Silent Bridal Chamber

Scarlett was escorted through a series of long corridors before arriving at the bridal chamber.

The room was large and richly furnished, but nothing about it resembled a place prepared for newlyweds.

There were no red candles burning beside the bed. No silk banners decorated the walls. No ceremonial wine waited on the table. Even the bedding was dark gray rather than red.

The chamber felt less like a wedding suite and more like an elegant prison.

The servants who escorted Scarlett left immediately after closing the doors. None offered to help remove her veil or explain the arrangements for the night.

Mia had been taken to a nearby servants’ room, leaving Scarlett alone.

Or apparently alone.

Scarlett stood motionless in the center of the chamber and listened.

A faint shift came from the roof.

Then another.

Four hidden guards occupied the left side of the building. Three more were positioned on the right. Their breathing was slow and controlled, and the roof tiles barely moved beneath their weight.

Elite soldiers.

There was also someone near the rear window, probably watching through a narrow gap in the wooden screen.

Scarlett concealed her amusement.

Arthur had arranged a very thorough welcome.

She lifted both hands and pulled off the heavy bridal veil.

“Finally.”

She rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck until a soft crack echoed through the room.

“That thing was heavy enough to kill a weaker bride.”

One of the hidden guards shifted almost imperceptibly.

Scarlett pretended not to notice.

She examined the furniture, the doors, and the placement of every object. There were no visible traps, but the room had been deliberately arranged to reveal how she behaved when she believed herself unobserved.

A decorative sword hung on the far wall. The blade was dull, but the handle could still be used as a weapon. Two bronze mirrors offered views of both the entrance and the rear window. A large incense burner sat near the bed, though no incense had been lit.

Scarlett approached it and checked the ash.

Clean.

At least Arthur had not attempted to drug her.

On the central table sat a plate of lotus pastries and a pot of cold tea.

Scarlett had not eaten since early morning. She checked the pastries for unusual scents, broke one apart, and touched a crumb to her tongue.

No obvious poison.

She poured a small amount of tea into a cup, examined its surface, and chose not to drink it. The pastries appeared safe enough, so she sat and began to eat.

Her movements remained elegant despite her hunger.

“Since everyone expects me to die,” she murmured, “it would be wasteful to leave the food untouched.”

The guards above remained silent.

Scarlett ate two pastries before hearing movement in the corridor.

The approaching person’s pace was slow.

More precisely, the sound was slow.

Wooden wheels rolled over the stone floor at deliberate intervals. Between each turn of the wheels came the almost inaudible pressure of measured breathing.

Scarlett’s eyes narrowed.

A true invalid being pushed in a heavy wheelchair would create irregular sounds. These wheels moved with perfect control, as though the occupant were guiding them personally.

The doors opened.

Scarlett immediately pulled the veil over her face, lowered her head, and allowed her shoulders to tremble. She folded her hands tightly in her lap, transforming herself into the image of a terrified bride.

The wheelchair entered.

Arthur wore dark red wedding robes embroidered with black thread. The color made his skin appear even paler. His hair was bound with a jade crown, and a heavy fur blanket covered his legs.

Luke pushed the chair only far enough to cross the threshold.

Arthur raised one hand.

Luke bowed and withdrew, closing the doors behind him.

Silence filled the chamber.

The wheelchair rolled closer.

Scarlett kept her breathing uneven and her head lowered.

She felt Arthur’s gaze through the veil.

Cold pressure spread through the room, powerful enough to unsettle the hidden guards on the roof. It carried the unmistakable weight of a man accustomed to command and killing.

The chair stopped directly before her.

“Remove it,” Arthur said.

Scarlett remained still for one additional breath.

“There is no need to play the frightened bride in front of me.”

His voice was low and commanding.

Scarlett’s fingers paused on the edge of the veil.

That was not the greeting of a man who believed her disguise.

Slowly, she lifted her head.

Arthur leaned back in the wheelchair, watching her with eyes as dark as a moonless night.

“Or,” he continued, “are you waiting for me to remove it for you?”

Scarlett smiled beneath the fabric.

At least he was more interesting than the people in the Duke’s estate.