Supreme Spouse System.
Chapter 259: The Shadow’s Oath, The Moonlit Reunion

Chapter 259: The Shadow’s Oath, The Moonlit Reunion

The Shadow’s Oath, The Moonlit Reunion

He hesitated. Then said, "I require your assistance."

Her eyebrows rose fractionally, yet she didn’t halt her stride. "Assistance?"

Leon’s tone dropped, low but unyielding. "Yes. Natasha... Sona is my wife now."

She blinked but didn’t appear shocked. "I had guessed so."

He spoke on, every word considered. "When I go tomorrow, I don’t know what Vellore will attempt. As you put it—they have spies. Eyes in the capital, in the palace... closer than we would think."

He drew breath.

"I have no idea what they will attempt next. And if they go after Sona... I won’t be there to prevent it."

His voice dipped, to something profounder perhaps, the fear of losing perhaps, or the weight of the responsibility perhaps. "If they move on her... I cannot afford to be unprepared."

He paused, to let the gravity of his words settle. Then:

I want you to be near Sona, I need someone I can trust, I want you to watch out for her to be there to protect her.

Natasha did not answer right away. Her face changed to something contemplative, her eyes squinting as she considered his plea.

"You’re afraid something could befall her."

Leon nodded once. "I don’t know if it will. But in case it does... I want her protected."

She exhaled slowly, almost as a sigh—but there was no hesitation in it. "Don’t worry, my lord. I’ll keep her safe."

Leon’s golden eyes relaxed behind the shadows’ veil. "Thank you."

Then, after a moment of pause, he spoke—tongue casual, but heavy with intent—

"And if you do well... if everything gets nicely tidied up after this war—I’ll cancel your slave seal."

Natasha stopped moving.

For a mere moment.

She turned slowly toward the vacant space beside her, eyes searching for him even though he was invisible. Her voice was low—nearly brittle. "Really?"

Leon nodded, even though only she could see. "Yes. You’ve earned that chance."

A flicker of something passed across her face. Her usual poise wavered, just for a heartbeat. The teasing glint in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something more raw. More human.

Then, like a curtain drawn back into place, her expression settled into a smirk. Her lips curved up, slow and sure.

"Well then," she said with a spark in her voice, "you’d better get ready to uphold your word."

And then, softer... but more genuine.

"Then... prepare to keep your promise."

Leon smiled, warmth gleaming behind the golden light of his eyes. He nodded slowly. "I will. Don’t worry."

They resumed walking, steps falling in sync once more. Neither of them had realized how close they’d come to their destination—until they stood at the foot of Sona’s palace.

Natasha paused in front of the great stone arch, her gaze moving up to the familiar crest above the gate.

"I’ll take my leave," she said lightly, glancing back at him. "You’ll be able to go alone from here."

Leon raised his hand slightly. "No. Come on."

She blinked in astonishment. "You want me to?"

"I want Sona to trust you," he stated, his voice unflappable. "Let’s do it right. I’ll introduce you to her."

Natasha let out a soft breath, pushing a hand through dark hair. "She doesn’t much like or trust me."

"She doesn’t know you yet," Leon said. "But she will. And once she does, she’ll trust you."

A wry smile pulled at her lips. "Fair enough. Let’s go."

Leon stayed concealed beneath the shadow cloak as they moved ahead. Natasha took the lead, with an air of confidence born of familiarity and subtle command.

Passing through the gates, the palace guards bowed to her in deference. Natasha nodded them back, expressionless.

Gossip already floated through the palace halls about her. Some referred to her as the shadow of the king. Others, more brazenly, said she was nearer to him than the queens themselves.

And behind her, moving silently as a ghost, Leon strode—seen only by her.

"Lady Natasha."

A serving maid curtsied low as they swept down the corridor, her voice deferential, tone barely above a whisper.

Natasha gave a small inclination of her head, face serene, lips twisting into a faint, inscrutable smile. Her eyes did not flicker. They remained focused straight ahead, chilly and steady, like a predator that had many years ago outgrown the urge to hunt recklessly.

The evening had only just commenced, and the palace exhaled with muted secrets.

No one ventured to challenge her course. Everyone knew her—king’s personal shadow, his faithful blade. Some spoke that she was nearer to the king than was the queen. Whispers never deterred her. Neither did their curtsies. Respect no longer meant anything to her.

Her pace was direct, her steps measured. Leon walked with her, shrouded under shadow, invisible to everyone except her.

She knew these corridors by heart, not as a visitor but as someone who had previously crawled through them in darkness. Every corner, every corridor, every blind turn—engraved into memory from her time as a spy under this very ceiling.

She came now, not as a spy... but as a person who had rightfully earned the privilege to walk freely.

They passed across the inner wing undeterred. No servants, no guards blocked their way. The palace still knew who Natasha was—and what she could do.

At Sona’s private chambers, the door was half-open. Moonlight had poured through the window, illuminating a faint glow on the floor.

Within, a woman sat at the window, bordered in blue and silver. Her dress swirled around her feet like water, the water-thin fabric rippling softly to the wind. Hair long and silver shone in the moonlight. Blue-white eyes looked up toward the sky, far away, lost among the stars.

Sona.

Natasha approached and rapped softly with her knuckle. "My lady. May I enter?"

Sona blinked as if rising from a deep thought. She turned slowly, her icy eyes locking towards the voice. Recognition flashed in their depths.

"Lady Natasha...?" she ventured, her voice guarded, uncertain. "What brings you here?"

She stood with that same elegance she always possessed, posture regal, back straight, her presence commanding effortlessly. But there was uncertainty in her tone, and a wariness in her eyes.

You may come in," she said at last .

Natasha gave a tiny nod and slipped inside noiselessly. Leon followed silently, a ghost in her footsteps.

The door thudded shut after them.

Sona’s brows moved. Her features had become suspicious.

"What is this?" Sona asked "Lady Natasha?" Her voice had the smoothness of butter but was ice-cold. "Why close the door?" Her arms crossed slightly as she cocked her head to one side. "Your plan for—

She didn’t get to finish.

Natasha said nothing.

Instead, the silence broke—softly, deeply.

"I asked her to," a familiar voice said. "My love."

Sona froze.

The air in the room shifted.

Her heart missed a beat.

She turned slowly, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.

There he was.

Standing in the middle of her chambers, dressed in black and gold, bathed in moonlight. Alive. Breathing. Real.

"Leon?"

His smile was soft, his golden eyes warm. "Yes. I’m here."

She did not think. She did not speak.

She merely moved—her gown rippling behind her, bare feet silent on the marble.

And then she was in his arms.

Her body collided with his, arms closing tight around his chest. She clung to him as if she feared he would disappear if she loosened her grip. He caught her with ease, his arms hard and certain as they closed around her and lifted her a little off the floor.

She hid her face in his shoulder, inhaling him.

He was a scent of wind and heat and something remotely known that made her lungs hurt.

The moonlight wrapped around them, gentle and silver, silhouetting them against the walls. Time froze. The palace was still, the outside world forgotten.

Nothing else existed in that moment.

Only the man who came back.

And the woman who waited.