Supreme Spouse System.
Chapter 249: In the Time We Still Have

Chapter 249: In the Time We Still Have

In the Time We Still Have

"Complicated?" she repeated, her tone dry and acrid. "Yes, I recall. You disappeared during dinner, Leon."

Her gaze held his, firm and waiting. She wasn’t shouting yet—but the calm tone had a more piercing quality than rage. Disappointment colored her words, cold and unmistakable. And that was worse.

She folded her arms, stance changing just enough to indicate her patience thinning. "So now," she said, "first of all—tell me. Where did you go, exactly? You left your wives behind like afterthoughts. Do you know how that seemed?"

The words hit harder than she meant them to, but she didn’t retract them.

Leon opened his mouth, then shut it again, unsure how to begin. For a man who had faced blades and bloodshed without flinching, he looked unusually hesitant now. His fingers raked once through his hair as if searching for clarity.

This wasn’t a court argument or a political maneuver. This was Nova.

And with Nova, the truth mattered.

He dropped his hand and looked at her. "I didn’t do it on purpose. I wasn’t keeping anything from you—I just... It got entangled."

"Entangled," she echoed, raising her brows a fraction.

He nodded as if to himself, almost, and then told her with quiet candor. "I might have visited Sona."

The room hung silent.

Nova blinked. Once. Slowly.

"Sona?" she said, voice even but no less lancing. "Queen Sona... huh?"

Leon nodded, sheepishly now. "Yes."

There was silence for a long moment. Nova’s face didn’t change, but something behind her eyes went far away for a heartbeat before it focused again.

".Why?" she asked, hesitating over the word, as if the reply would tip something out of balance.

Leon leaned forward a little, the mischief flickering back like a spark igniting ancient embers. "To make her your new sister."

Nova’s breath hung.

Her eyes locked on him. Lips parted, breath suspended, she blinked once—then again, more slowly this time, as if her brain was still playing catch-up with his words. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Just stared. Not necessarily in shock, but in that guarded, calculating silence people reserve for when they’re not sure if they’ve just been given a confession or a joke.

Then, finally, in a slightly higher tone than before, she said, "What."

Leon rubbed the back of his neck, his smile slightly sheepish. "To Queen Sona’s chambers. We... discussed things. Cleared the air between us. And I... well, I spent the night there."

Nova stiffened. The breath trapped in her throat was cold, her body freezing. She swallowed. "You. you what? You bedded the Queen? In her bedchamber? On the Queen’s bed? Under the nose of the King?!"

He laughed, moving closer to her and playfully nipping her cheek. "Hey, you told me to always tell the truth."

Her mouth fell open in shock. "You snake! You actually slithered into the Queen’s bed?"

"You say it like I crawled into the palace heating system and broke in," he said, completely unruffled. "We’ve known each other since childhood. There were feelings. Unspoken ones. And... the timing finally worked out. You know how these things are.

Nova gazed at him as if he’d sprouted antlers and wings. The words didn’t compute, but the tone... the familiarity... it resonated. Queen Sona—Silver City’s jewel—and Leon... they had always been cut from the same vintage tale. Everyone had made whispers about them once. And now, behold, here it was, reality.

"I don’t know whether to slap you or toast you," she said matter-of-factly.

He winked. "Do both. Slap me first. Then pour the wine."

She groaned, pulling both hands across her face. "Do you even have any idea what will happen if the King finds out?"

"He’ll go mad, yell, accuse me of treason, threaten to hang me, possibly even ignite another war," Leon said matter-of-factly, as if mentioning which breakfast foods he wanted.

"Leon!" she snapped, appalled.

But he just smiled, sitting back on his heels. "Don’t worry. Who’s gonna tell him? You?"

Nova glared at him, straight-faced—then a slow laugh welled up in her throat. "Gods, you’re insane. I don’t like that moron myself, but... I almost wish to be there when he discovers you gave him a green hat," she chuckled harder now. "Just to see his idiot face contort.

Leon’s smile grew. He could see it—her revulsion of the King, her amusement over the entire farce, and the affection she was attempting to conceal. The manner in which her laughter played in her voice even as her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"You adore it," he murmured.

She paused for a moment, then sighed, sweeping back her dark hair and regarding him with exasperation and grudging affection. "Sad but true. I love you that way."

He laughed, and she did, too—without walls, without weight, just the two of them once more. The laughter filled the room, warm and effortless. It hung there a moment longer, until it gradually died into a quiet peace. Then Nova rested her head against the couch’s back and let out a slow, soft sigh.

"I miss this," she whispered.

Leon leaned his head toward her. "What, my dear?"

Her gaze did not catch his initially. "This," she said again. "You. Us. All we had... before the capital consumed it all."

Her voice vibrated ever so slightly, like a memory rising.

She faced him then, eyes firm. "Tomorrow we return to our duchies. Back to duty. I don’t even know when I will see you again."

There was silence—long, delicate.

Or if," she whispered.

Leon closed his hand around hers, fingers tightening around hers with gentle force. "We will meet again, my love. Very soon. Do you truly believe I could remain absent from my wife for long?"

His voice was carefree, but his eyes. they spoke more.

Nova scanned his face—those golden-tinted, familiar eyes she’d gazed into more times than she could remember. She smiled weakly. "Promise?"

He leaned in, voice low. "If I don’t... then, track me down."

She attempted to laugh, but it shook. "I will. Even if you’re in the deepest hole in all of Galavia, I’ll track you down."

He pulled her slowly until she was half-sitting on his lap. She shrieked in shock, slapping his arm. "Leon!"

His hands encircled her waist, anchoring her there. "If tomorrow we are separated, even for a brief moment... not knowing when we will see each other again," he whispered against her temple, "then I want tonight. I want your laughter. Your smile. I want to leave something behind for you... and carry a piece of you away." Nova gazed at him, her anger fading. Her heart pulsed slow and certain.

The war heroine. The iron-blooded duchess.

Now, just a woman—exhausted, sore, in love.

She inclined towards him, warm breath on his. "Then stay."

Leon’s face brightened. "Gladly."

She crossed the distance between them and their mouths touched, slow and certain. The kiss wasn’t quick or frenzied—it was the kind forged from years, not hours. Deep and steady, like an anchor between two people who had ridden too many storms.

At that moment, the room was no longer that of nobles or warriors.

It was lovers’.

After the kiss ended, they stood there close, their breaths interwoven in the still air. The heat of the moment clung to them like a second skin, vulnerable and shivering under the pressure of unspoken realities. Leon took Nova’s hand once more, holding it as if it were the last thing firm in a world set to collapse.

"Tomorrow..." he started, his voice low, nearly in awe, "we may not get this moment back. Not like this. Not anytime soon. Perhaps not at all." He stood still, the words suspended between them like gentle fog. "So before we say goodbye. I want to spend every available second with you."

Nova’s eyes lifted to his, their shine like the glint of unsung tears. Her breath caught. "I want the same," she breathed, and in her words was the longing encased in hope.

Leon reached up and brushed a tear that had escaped down her cheek. His touch was warm, firm, a gesture of kindness in a world soon to rage. "Then vow this," he whispered, his voice anchoring her, "tonight, we battle the world together."

Her hand settled over his chest, her fingers slightly spread apart as if to feel the beat of his heartbeat would commit to memory this time. "I vow," she said softly, and the promise wasn’t just to him—it was to herself, as well.

Their brows met, the gap between them narrowing to silence and communed breath. It was not a hush from nothing to say, but from all felt. Beyond, beyond the palace walls, royalty and noble lineage pushed toward duty and war, their swords eager for resolve.

But here—in this green-and-white sanctuary cut from the maelstrom—they held on to something much more tenuous. Not certainty. Not peace. But a delicate hope.

And in that hope, they came across one another.