novelraw Chapter 178 - -178
Chapter 178 - -178
Heena shook her head firmly and said, "No, it’s not good to eat too much sour things."
She reached over and lightly bonked Larus on the head with her knuckles—not hard, just a gentle tap.
"You too," she said. "Don’t eat all of them at once. Save some for tomorrow."
With that, she stood up and headed toward the bathing chamber to wash off the day’s exhaustion.
---
When Heena emerged from her bath about thirty minutes later, her hair was still dripping wet, water running down her back and shoulders. She was wearing comfortable sleeping robes—nothing fancy, just soft silk meant for actual rest rather than imperial appearances.
Larus was at the bed, carefully arranging the pillows and smoothing the sheets with meticulous attention.
Heena had discovered after their marriage that Larus had a very particular quirk: he absolutely ’hated’ having unknown people touch his bed. Servants could clean the room, organize his things, manage his wardrobe—but the bed itself? He always arranged it personally.
It was oddly endearing.
Of course, he had his own rooms—the entire Lavender Palace that Heena had gifted him, with servants and space and complete independence.
But as newlyweds, they spent most nights together. Either in her chambers or his, but always together.
Heena walked over to the dressing table, grabbed a towel, and started roughly drying her hair, water still dripping onto her shoulders and the floor.
Larus looked up from the bed, saw her aggressive towel-scrubbing technique, and sighed.
"Come here," he said gently. "I’ll do it for you."
Without waiting for her response, he walked over, took the towel from her hands, and guided her to sit on the edge of the bed.
Then he began carefully drying her hair—not roughly like she’d been doing, but with soft, gentle movements that carefully absorbed the water without pulling or tangling.
His fingers worked through the strands methodically, and Heena found herself relaxing under the attention.
This was nice. Peaceful. The kind of quiet domestic moment that she’d never expected to have in this life.
For once, nothing was interrupting them. No ceremonies, no traditions, no aunt appearing to enforce rituals—
’Knock knock.’
Heena’s entire body went rigid.
’No.’
’No, absolutely not.’
The guard’s voice came through the door, formal and apologetic:
"Your Majesty, the five imperial consorts are here. They request permission to speak with you urgently."
1
Heena felt her eye twitch.
She turned her head slowly to look at the door with an expression of pure, concentrated irritation.
"It’s ’night’," she said flatly, though the guard couldn’t hear her through the closed door. "Who the hell disturbs someone at ’night’?!"
Larus’s hands had stilled in her hair. She could feel the tension in his fingers.
"Your Majesty?" the guard called again, clearly uncomfortable. "Should I send them away, or...?"
Heena closed her eyes and took a very deep breath.
Then another.
She was trying very hard not to scream.
"Host," the System whispered, materializing cautiously nearby, "your blood pressure—"
"Not now," Heena hissed.
She stood up abruptly, her hair still half-wet, dripping onto her shoulders.
Larus looked at her with concern and sympathy mixed together.
"You don’t have to see them," he said quietly. "It’s late. You’ve had a long day. You can refuse."
"If I refuse," Heena said tiredly, "they’ll just come back tomorrow. Or cause some other problem. Or spread rumors about how I’m ’avoiding’ them."
She walked toward her wardrobe, pulling out formal robes with sharp, angry movements.
"Better to deal with it now and get it over with," she muttered.
"Your Majesty—" the guard called again, sounding increasingly nervous.
"COMING!" Heena shouted back, louder than strictly necessary.
She started changing into more formal attire—couldn’t receive the consorts in sleeping robes, unfortunately. That would cause a scandal.
Larus watched her with an expression that clearly said he wanted to protest, wanted to tell her to rest, wanted to send the consorts away himself.
But he also understood politics. Understood that sometimes you had to deal with annoyances immediately or they multiplied.
"Should I leave?" he asked quietly.
Heena paused, then shook her head.
"No," she said firmly. "This is our chamber. You have every right to be here. If they have a problem with that, they can leave."
She finished dressing, ran her fingers through her still-damp hair to make it somewhat presentable, and took one more deep breath.
Then she walked to the door and yanked it open.
The guard standing outside actually flinched at her expression.
"Where are they?" Heena asked, her voice dangerously calm.
"In the receiving room, Your Majesty," the guard said quickly. "All five of them. They said it was urgent—"
"It’s always urgent with them," Heena muttered.
She turned back to look at Larus, who was still standing by the bed, looking worried.
"I’ll be back soon," she said, her voice softening slightly. "Don’t wait up if you’re tired."
"I’ll wait," Larus said immediately.
Heena felt that annoying warmth in her chest again, but she didn’t have time to process it.
She turned and swept out of the chamber, her wet hair leaving a trail of water drops behind her, her expression absolutely murderous.
The guard followed at a safe distance, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near the Empress when she was in this mood.
As Heena walked down the corridor toward the receiving room, the System floated alongside her nervously.
"Host," he whispered, "maybe you should calm down before you see them? You look like you’re about to commit violence."
"I ’am’ about to commit violence," Heena said pleasantly. "The only question is how much."
"That’s concerning—"
"They interrupted my evening," Heena continued, her smile becoming sharp and dangerous. "After the longest day in recent memory. After I finally got to relax. After my husband was ’drying my hair’."
Her voice dropped to something cold and furious.
"So yes, System. I am absolutely going to commit violence. The only question is whether it’s verbal or physical."
The System wisely fell silent.
They reached the receiving room doors.
Heena could hear voices inside—low, urgent conversation that cut off the moment the guards opened the doors and announced her.
"Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Celeste!"
Heena swept into the room, her damp hair, her informal robes, and her absolutely murderous expression creating a very specific image:
’You have disturbed me at an extremely inconvenient time, and I am NOT happy about it.’
All five consorts immediately stood and bowed.
Kieran, Adrian, Damien, Raphael, and Lucian—all looking stressed, exhausted, and nervous.
Heena didn’t sit. She just stood there, arms crossed, and said in the flattest, most dangerous voice possible:
"This had better be ’extremely’ important."
The consorts exchanged glances.
None of them seemed eager to speak first.
"Well?" Heena prompted, her patience already at zero. "I’m waiting. What is so urgent that you needed to disturb me at this hour?"
Finally, Damien—always the boldest—stepped forward and said:
"Your Majesty, it’s about the pregnancy scandal. We need to discuss—"
"No," Heena interrupted.
Damien blinked. "No?"
"No," Heena repeated. "We are not discussing that tonight. The investigation is proceeding. The patriarchs are arriving tomorrow. Everything is being handled. There is nothing that needs to be discussed at—" she glanced at the clock, "—nearly midnight."
"But Your Majesty—" Adrian started.
"No," Heena said again, more firmly.