Chapter 9: A Game of Shadows

Scarlett pulled off the veil and tossed it onto the bed.

For the first time, bride and groom examined each other beneath the cold light of the chamber.

Arthur appeared exactly as he had in the forest and yet entirely different.

His black clothing had been replaced by ceremonial robes, and his disordered hair was now perfectly arranged. The blood and dirt were gone. His expression was controlled, distant, and severe.

The same dangerous power remained beneath the surface.

Scarlett recognized him immediately.

So the frozen stranger in the forest was Arthur, the Regent King.

The realization explained the hidden guards, the military discipline, and the Emperor’s determination to place a spy inside the estate.

It also complicated everything.

Scarlett concealed her reaction.

Arthur studied the woman before him.

The dark marks covering her face were as ugly as the rumors claimed. Yellow-brown blemishes spread across her cheeks and forehead, ruining features that might otherwise have been delicate.

Yet Arthur barely looked at them.

His attention settled on her eyes.

They were too steady.

A foolish woman might stare in fear, confusion, or childish curiosity. Scarlett watched him with the composed caution of someone measuring distance, strength, and possible attack angles.

His gaze moved lower.

Her hands appeared soft at first glance, but faint calluses marked her fingertips and the base of her thumb. Those were not the hands of a sheltered noblewoman.

They belonged to someone familiar with blades.

“You do not appear surprised,” Arthur said.

Scarlett leaned against the bedpost.

“Should I be?”

“Most brides would show some reaction upon seeing their husband in a wheelchair.”

“The entire capital knows the Regent King was poisoned and crippled.”

“And the entire capital claims the Duke’s eldest daughter is an ugly fool.”

Scarlett smiled.

“Then perhaps neither of us should believe everything the capital says.”

Arthur’s eyes sharpened.

A thin thread of inner energy spread through the chamber, almost too subtle to detect.

Scarlett detected it.

The pressure brushed against her skin like the edge of an invisible blade.

“You have steady eyes for a fool,” Arthur said.

“And you have remarkably powerful qi for a cripple.”

The atmosphere changed.

The hidden guards above the room became completely still.

Arthur’s expression did not move, but the dangerous pressure around him intensified.

Scarlett leaned closer, lowering her voice.

“Your breathing is controlled. Your shoulders remain balanced when the chair moves. The muscles in your hands have not weakened, and the qi around your meridians is strong enough to crush an ordinary man’s chest from several paces away.”

She glanced at the fur covering his legs.

“Your condition is serious, but you are not truly paralyzed.”

Arthur moved.

His hand closed around Scarlett’s throat before the final word had faded.

The speed was terrifying.

One moment he sat motionless in the wheelchair; the next, his fingers pressed against her pulse, his thumb positioned to break her neck.

Scarlett did not resist.

She could have struck the vulnerable point beneath his wrist, but seven hidden guards surrounded the chamber, and Arthur’s other hand remained concealed beneath his sleeve.

A fight would reveal too much.

More importantly, she needed him alive.

Arthur pulled her closer.

“Who sent you?” he asked.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

Scarlett met his gaze.

“Harrison? The Emperor? Or someone from the Blood Sect?”

His fingers tightened.

A lesser person would have panicked.

Scarlett’s lips curved into a mocking smile.

“If they had sent me,” she said with difficulty, “I would have brought a poison that actually worked.”

Arthur’s grip became completely still.

Scarlett felt the sudden shift in his pulse.

She had struck the correct nerve.

“What did you say?”

“The poison in your body is complicated,” Scarlett continued. “The Frost Poison damaged your meridians, but it is no longer the only reason your legs are numb.”

Arthur stared at her.

Scarlett raised one hand slowly, making certain the hidden guards would not mistake the movement for an attack.

Her fingers touched his wrist.

She tapped twice against his pulse point.

Arthur could have stopped her.

He allowed it.

“There is another substance in your blood,” Scarlett said. “It suppresses sensation, slows the circulation of qi, and prevents your body from clearing the remaining Frost Poison.”

His gaze became colder.

“What substance?”

“Sleeping Grass.”

For the first time, a visible reaction crossed Arthur’s face.

It lasted less than a second, but Scarlett saw it.

Someone inside the Regent King’s estate had been poisoning him.

And he had not known.

Chapter 10: The Negotiation

Arthur did not release her immediately.

His hand remained around her throat while his mind examined every possibility.

The physicians responsible for his condition had been selected from the most respected medical families in the empire. They examined him regularly, measured the Frost Poison in his meridians, and provided medicine intended to preserve his life.

None had ever mentioned Sleeping Grass.

They all insisted the numbness in his legs was permanent.

If Scarlett was telling the truth, then either the physicians were incompetent—or they were part of the conspiracy.

Both possibilities demanded blood.

“How do you know?” Arthur asked.

Scarlett tapped his wrist again.

“Your pulse is too slow after sunset, but your internal energy remains active. Frost Poison causes stiffness and intense cold. It does not create this kind of artificial numbness.”

She glanced toward the untouched teapot.

“Sleeping Grass is almost odorless when dried. Mixed with strong medicinal herbs, it would be difficult for an ordinary physician to detect.”

“Yet you detected it without examining my medicine.”

“I smelled traces on your skin.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed.

Scarlett continued before he could question her further.

“The poison has accumulated over time. That means it is being administered in small doses, probably every day. Tea would be the simplest method.”

Arthur finally loosened his grip.

Scarlett inhaled slowly but did not retreat.

His fingers had left red marks around her throat. She rubbed them once, more annoyed than frightened.

“You could ask questions without attempting murder,” she said.

Arthur leaned back.

“People answer more honestly when they believe death is close.”

“That may work on ordinary people.”

“And you are not ordinary?”

Scarlett met his gaze.

“No.”

The answer was simple and unapologetic.

Arthur watched her in silence.

Scarlett walked to the table, poured the cold tea into a cup, and held it beneath her nose. She did not drink.

“This tea is clean,” she said. “But I assume it was not prepared by the person responsible for your daily medicine.”

Arthur ignored the question.

“Why reveal this to me?”

“Because I want to make a deal.”

A faint trace of mockery entered his expression.

“You entered my estate only a few hours ago, yet you already believe you are in a position to negotiate.”

“I entered as your lawful wife.”

“A title granted by an Emperor who wants me dead.”

“And a father who wants me dead.”

That answer silenced him.

Scarlett placed the cup down.

“Three days ago, Harrison’s household arranged for me to be abducted. I was drugged and abandoned outside the capital. The men involved were expected to ruin me before killing me.”

Arthur studied her face.

She spoke without self-pity, as though describing an operation rather than her own near death.

“Why?”

“My existence became inconvenient.”

“Yet you returned.”

Scarlett smiled.

“They were careless.”

Arthur could hear the unspoken threat beneath her words.

She had not merely survived. She intended to retaliate.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

“Protection.”

“You expect me to protect Harrison’s daughter from Harrison?”

“I do not consider him my family.”

Scarlett took a step closer.

“I need the Duke’s estate and the palace to believe I am secure under your authority. They must not be able to drag me away, poison me, or replace my servants without consequence.”

“And in return?”

“I cure your legs.”

Arthur’s expression became unreadable.

Scarlett continued.

“I will remove the Sleeping Grass, suppress the Frost Poison, and repair the damage to your meridians. You may not recover in a single night, but you will regain full movement.”

The chamber remained silent.

Above them, the hidden guards listened without breathing.

Arthur had been promised cures before.

Famous physicians had offered rare medicines, painful treatments, and elaborate rituals. Some wanted gold. Others wanted status. A few had been sent by his enemies to accelerate the poison.

None had succeeded.

“Bold claims are easy to make,” he said.

Scarlett shrugged.

“Then test me.”

“How?”

“Give me three days.”

“For what?”

“To prove the Sleeping Grass exists.”

Arthur’s gaze hardened.

“If you are wrong?”

“You may kill me.”

The answer came too quickly to be a bluff.

“And if you are right?”

“I receive complete freedom inside this estate, except in areas containing genuine military secrets. You will not force me to share your bed, perform ceremonial duties, or obey unnecessary restrictions.”

Arthur’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

Scarlett counted the terms on her fingers.

“Mia remains under my protection. No one enters my courtyard without permission. No medicine, food, or servant from the Duke’s estate may reach me unless I approve it. You will also prevent Harrison and Lady Eleanor from interfering with my life.”

“You demand a great deal.”

“I am offering a great deal.”

“Even if you remove the Sleeping Grass, the Frost Poison remains.”

“I can remove that too.”

Arthur’s eyes darkened.

Scarlett had spoken with complete confidence.

The fragrance reached him then.

It was faint beneath the herbal paste on her face and the incense clinging to her wedding clothes, but it was unmistakable.

Wild orchids.

Arthur’s fingers tightened against the arm of the wheelchair.

The forest returned to him in fragments—the woman’s burning skin, her fingers pressing against his meridians, her mocking smile beneath the dark trees.

He looked again at Scarlett’s eyes.

Steady.

Fearless.

Familiar.

His attention dropped to her hair. The ornaments were cheap, and one pin did not match the others. A small piece appeared to have broken from it.

Arthur slowly reached inside his sleeve.

Scarlett saw the movement and prepared herself.

He placed a piece of jade on the table.

Her broken hairpin.

For the first time since entering the room, Scarlett’s composure nearly cracked.

Nearly.

She glanced at the jade and then back at Arthur.

“I wondered where that went.”

The cold mask on Arthur’s face changed.

Dangerous recognition burned in his eyes.

“It was you,” he said.

Scarlett considered denying it.

The wild orchid scent, the jade fragment, and her knowledge of his poison made denial pointless. A weak lie would only give him an advantage.

She smiled instead.

“Your Highness has an impressive memory.”

The pressure in the room intensified.

Arthur rose from the wheelchair.

The fur blanket fell to the floor.

Scarlett watched without surprise as he stood at his full height. He was taller than she remembered, his presence even more overwhelming now that he was no longer lying helpless among the leaves.

On the roof, the hidden guards remained silent. Evidently, they already knew he could stand.

Arthur stepped toward her.

“So,” he said, each word dangerously calm, “the woman who used me as an antidote in the forest is Harrison’s supposedly foolish daughter.”

“And the dying stranger I saved is my supposedly crippled husband.”

They stood only inches apart.

Arthur looked down at her, searching for fear.

He found amusement instead.

“You deceived me.”

“I never told you my name.”

“You called yourself a passing ghost.”

“I was passing through.”

His jaw tightened.

Scarlett gestured toward the wheelchair.

“You have been deceiving the entire empire. I think we can forgive each other for one small secret.”

“One small secret?”

His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.

Scarlett noticed.

The memory of the forest hung between them, filled with heat, frost, anger, and reluctant dependence.

Arthur’s voice became lower.

“Do you understand what happens to those who take advantage of this king?”

Scarlett did not step back.

“Usually, I imagine they die.”

“Correct.”

“Then it is fortunate I saved your life first.”

Arthur stared at her for a long moment.

Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

It was not a warm sound. It was quiet, dangerous, and edged with disbelief.

The Ugly Fool of the Duke’s estate was a disguise.

His unwanted bride was the mysterious woman he had ordered the capital searched for.

And she had walked through his gates willingly.

Arthur reached out and lifted her chin with two fingers.

Scarlett allowed the gesture, though one hand remained close to the dagger hidden beneath her wedding robe.

“You want protection,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You claim you can cure me.”

“I can.”

“And you believe that after what happened in the forest, I will allow you complete freedom?”

Scarlett raised an eyebrow.

“You can refuse. But then you will continue drinking poison while your enemies wait for your condition to worsen.”

The faint amusement vanished from Arthur’s eyes.

“You are threatening me.”

“I am explaining your options.”

Arthur released her chin and turned toward the table.

He picked up the jade fragment, studying it once more before returning it to his sleeve.

“Three days,” he said.

Scarlett’s expression became serious.

“You will have three days to prove that Sleeping Grass is being used against me. During that time, you will remain inside the estate.”

“I already live here.”

“You will not leave without my permission.”

“That was not part of my terms.”

“It is now.”

Scarlett folded her arms.

“Then I want access to your medical records, daily prescriptions, kitchen accounts, and every servant involved in preparing your tea.”

Arthur looked at her.

“Agreed.”

“I choose my own courtyard.”

“Within reason.”

“Mia stays with me.”

“She may.”

“No hidden guards inside my rooms.”

Arthur glanced toward the ceiling.

A moment later, almost inaudible movements traveled across the roof as the concealed guards withdrew.

Scarlett smiled.

“Efficient.”

“Do not mistake cooperation for trust.”

“I would be disappointed if you trusted me so quickly.”

Arthur returned to the wheelchair but did not sit.

“You are still Harrison’s daughter.”

“And you are still the most feared man in the Great Yuan Dynasty.”

Their eyes met.

Neither believed the other harmless.

Neither believed the marriage was genuine.

Yet beneath the suspicion, an alliance had begun to form—one built not on affection, loyalty, or imperial decree, but on mutual necessity.

Scarlett extended her hand.

“Do we have an agreement?”

Arthur looked at it.

Noblewomen did not seal negotiations by clasping hands. Generals and merchants might, but a Princess Consort was expected to bow and accept her husband’s command.

Scarlett waited.

After a moment, Arthur took her hand.

His skin remained unnaturally cold.

Scarlett’s fingers were warm against his.

The same reaction from the forest stirred faintly beneath their skin, a subtle clash between fire and frost.

Arthur felt it.

So did Scarlett.

Neither released the other immediately.

“Three days,” Arthur repeated.

Scarlett’s smile sharpened.

“Three days will be enough.”

Outside, the night wind swept across the black roofs of the Regent King’s estate.

In the palace, the Emperor waited for news from his new spy.

In the Duke’s estate, Lady Eleanor and Tiffany waited to hear of Scarlett’s death.

And deep within Arthur’s residence, the bride everyone had dismissed as an ugly fool had just formed an alliance with the most dangerous man in the empire.

The wedding had begun without music or celebration.

But before long, the entire capital would hear the storm it unleashed.

Chapter 11: Caught in the Act

The bridal chamber remained silent after Arthur’s discovery.

The broken jade hairpin rested in his palm, its pale surface catching the dim candlelight. Scarlett stood several steps away, outwardly relaxed, though every instinct in her body remained alert.

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