Chapter 60: Chapter-60

She had underestimated, once again, how catastrophically dangerous that beautiful bastard was when he actually ’tried’.

By the time Heenafinished signing off on the last stack of surgery tags and was finally, ’finally’ walking back toward the palace proper, the sun was already tilting low on the horizon, painting everything in shades of amber and blood-orange. She rolled her stiff shoulders, hearing joints pop, and was mentally planning which husband to bully into giving her a foot massage when seven figures stepped into her path.

Seven nobles.

Different ranks, different colors of brocade and silk, but every single face equally grave. Among them stood Duke Groverstone, the old fox of the council, his usually calculating expression more lined and serious than she’d ever seen it.

Heenastopped walking. The air changed—heavy, expectant, charged with the weight of bad news.

“Your Majesty.” They bowed together, the synchronized movement creating a wave of rustling fabric.

She studied their faces for a long heartbeat and knew instantly this wasn’t some petty tax squabble or minor territorial dispute. “What happened?” she asked, too tired for politics. “Say it straight. I’m too exhausted for flowery nonsense and bureaucratic circling.”

They exchanged looks, a silent conversation passing between them about who would speak first. Duke Groverstone stepped forward as spokesman, his age and rank making him the natural choice.

“First matter,” he said, voice low and controlled. “News from the northern border.”

Hina’s spine straightened despite her exhaustion. “The northern armies?” Half of that command was technically under her direct control now, one of the few military powers she’d managed to consolidate. “Did something happen with the war line? An attack? A retreat?”

Groverstone shook his head slowly. “The kingdom beyond the northern ridge—the one we have been at war with for… decades, if not centuries—they have…” He seemed to struggle with the word, as if it physically pained him to say it. “They have requested to ’surrender’.”

Heenablinked. Once. Twice. “Surrender,” she repeated slowly, testing the word. “Just like that? After generations of warfare?”

“They wish to end all hostilities permanently and propose a marriage alliance in exchange for peace terms.” Another minister stepped forward, holding out a scroll sealed with wax and a stiff, card-backed sheet. “They have already sent the draft terms, Your Majesty. And… a portrait. Of the prince they wish to offer as the groom.”

A rolled parchment and a painted prince. How utterly romantic.

Heenatook the portrait first, more out of habit than interest, and flicked it open with a snap of her wrist. A handsome face stared back at her from expensive paper—strong jawline, good bone structure, elaborate armor painted in meticulous detail, posed heroically with a sword and a sunrise behind him. The type of face the world liked to call “destined for greatness.”

She snorted indelicately. “Of course. When in doubt, throw a pretty son at the problem and hope it goes away.”

The nobles flinched at her bluntness but wisely didn’t comment.

“And the ’second’ matter?” Heenaasked, folding the portrait and tucking it under her arm without ceremony. “Your faces say this isn’t even the main headache. Out with it.”

This time, a younger marquis stepped forward, his throat working nervously. “Your Majesty… in the past two days, seven noble houses have reported… illness.”

“Illness?” Hina’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Plague? Poison? Some kind of curse? Spit it out before I lose my patience entirely.”

“Not physical sickness, Your Majesty,” he said hurriedly, hands clasped tight. “They are… in their own words… ’sick in the head.’”

“Mad?” she asked sharply. “Possessed? Having visions? Be specific.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Mad. In the noble sense.” He swallowed hard. “All seven heads of house. They have gone… crazy. Completely, utterly insane by all accounts.”

Heenastared at him for a long moment. “…Define ’noble sense’ before I decide it’s legally justifiable to hit you for talking in circles when I’m this tired.”

Groverstone exhaled heavily and took over. “These seven houses, Your Majesty, are all families that previously supported the consorts heavily in council matters. Previously… they were known as fiercely devoted husbands. Famous for their loyalty to their wives, their stable marriages, their traditional values.”

“And now?” Hina’s voice had gone very, very quiet.

“Now… all seven are demanding divorces.”

The word hung in the air like a slap across the face.

Hina’s expression didn’t change, but something cold and sharp slid into her eyes. “All seven. At the exact same time. What a remarkable coincidence.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Another minister fussed with his sleeves nervously, unable to meet her gaze. “They all claim they have seen ’true love’ for the first time in their lives. That they cannot possibly remain bound to their current wives after… after meeting a certain… person.” He coughed delicately. “All seven… claim to have fallen in love at first sight. With the ’same’ man.”

Ah.

Heenadidn’t even have to think about it. Didn’t have to guess. Didn’t have to investigate.

Her temples began to throb with the beginning of a truly spectacular headache.

“Let me guess,” she said, voice dripping with dry sarcasm. “Mysterious beauty from out of town. Gentle, fragile, misunderstood by the cruel world. Smiles like he’s been hurt but still believes in the goodness of people. Makes old men feel twenty years younger and like they’ve discovered romance for the first time.”

The nobles looked at one another with visible shock, then slowly, reluctantly nodded in unison. “That is… exactly how they describe him, Your Majesty. Word for word, almost.”

Of course it was.

Estov, you absolute ’bastard’.

“And,” Groverstone continued carefully, watching her face for signs of explosion, “there is one more detail that may be… connected to this situation. Three of these seven houses previously made very generous donations to Lady Seraphina’s charitable foundations. Supported her projects publicly. Praised her virtues at every opportunity.”

“Let me guess again,” Heena said tiredly. “Now they’ve withdrawn all support.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. All funding ceased immediately. And they speak of a ’new saint’ that has opened their eyes to ’true compassion’ and ’genuine kindness.’” He paused. “The descriptions match the same man they’ve fallen in love with.”

Heenaclosed her eyes for a long moment, inhaled slowly through her nose, then exhaled even more slowly through her mouth.

On top of everything else—the work, the inspections, the crises, the exhaustion—now she had a northern kingdom surrendering out of nowhere with a marriage alliance and a prince portrait, ’and’ Seraphina’s most powerful backers suddenly going collectively insane for some green-tea homewrecking male who was definitely, absolutely, without question, her own damn poison master.

This wasn’t coincidence. This was a conspiracy and a headache wrapped in a beautiful silk package.

Her headache, which had been a dull ache from overwork, sharpened into a blade stabbing directly between her eyes.

“I see,” she said finally, opening her eyes. “Here’s what you will do.”

Seven backs straightened to attention immediately.

“First, stall the northern answer,” Heenaordered crisply. “Send a polite reply that the Empress requires time to consult with her councils and consider such a momentous proposal with appropriate gravity. No acceptance. No refusal. Make it sound like we’re deeply flattered and taking it very seriously, but we’re simply too busy and important to rush these things.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep