Plans, Promises, and a Window’s Goodbye
Another hour went by, and the bathroom door creaked open once more.
A gentle hiss of steam curled out as Leon entered the room, now wearing his trademark black-and-gold robe. The material fell over him with effortless sophistication, each fold sharp, each edge pristine. His wet hair had been smoothed back tidily, accentuating the dramatic sharpness of his jawline and the serene intensity of his golden eyes. He straightened the collar with a quick wave of his hand, his actions fluid, dignified—just like the man himself.
Sona appeared a few moments later.
She walked slowly, draped in a flowing silver gown that clung to her like a breath. Her skin still wore the heat of the bath, cheeks flushed with a soft, remaining flush. Her hair was long and wet, flowing down her back like yarns of midnight silver, her soft sheen of gown catching at the light as she moved. There was something different about her—something lighter, softer. Not merely washed clean, but alive.
She looked... reborn.
As if something inside her had finally been released.
As if she’d been kissed by a dream—and was still caught within its glow.
Leon glanced at her, his expression unreadable, though something subtle flickered in his eyes.
"You’re glowing," he said, almost offhandedly, but with a note of admiration beneath the words.
"Am I?" Sona replied with a gentle tease, her lips curving. "Must be the soap."
But they both understood it was something more.
She sensed it in the space between them. The silence they shared wasn’t vacant—it was warm, full. And in it, a trust had grown. Unspoken, but clear.
They stood side by side and made their way to the window, where a gentle breeze blew through the curtains. Outside, the horizon glowed with colors of late afternoon gold and blue that was beginning to fade.
"I’ve told you all I know," Leon said, his tone changing—stronger now, edged with seriousness. "About Natasha. About Vellore. They are planning to move against the Moonstone Kingdom. And the king—your former husband—is too blind to notice the danger seeping in."
Sona’s footsteps slowed.
That name still haunted like a shadow, chilly and unwanted... but no longer strong enough to freeze her heart. Not anymore.
She turned to him, her eyes unwavering. "He never mattered to me. Not before. Not now."
Leon looked at her—and smiled, just faintly. Not the charming, effortless kind he gave to the world, but something quieter, something real. "I know."
"And I’ll Visit NovelHub for more amazing novels and chapters. "Whatever comes, I’m with you."
His smile was not quite reaching his eyes, but something about his face eased. "Good," he said softly. "Because Natasha isn’t just another threat. She’s. more complex than that."
Sona’s brows furrowed a little. The tension between them changed.
"They’ve aligned?" she asked.
Leon nodded curtly. "Almost. Not completely—but it’s only a matter of time.
She gazed at him, agitated. "But Natasha... she’s been in the palace for years. Trusted by the king. Treated by that idiot king like she is his life his lover. She’s one of his inner circles. And her power... she conceals that also very well" Sona paused, catching breath. "Ah... She’s a monarch-level cultivator."
Leon’s face turned somber. "She is. And she’s been playing the long game. Pretending. Watching. Whispering poison in the king’s ear while answering to Vellore all along."
Sona hesitated. Part of her still wanted to disbelieve it—wanted to think Natasha couldn’t have kept something so deep for so long. But as she gazed at Leon, and saw no doubt in his eyes, no uncertainty in his voice.
She allowed that uncertainty to slip away.
Leon caught the flash in her eyes and nodded to her, almost imperceptibly, as if to say you don’t have to wonder about this anymore.
"I have things to do," he said. "And no, I’m not scared of your old king—not then, not now. Whatever darkness he throws over your existence, I’ll incinerate it. He’ll topple. And Natasha..."
He breathed out, and something changed in his tone—something deeper.
"She’s no longer a threat. Not to me and not to you and my other wives."
Sona’s head cocked to one side. "You talk as if you already own her."
Leon’s mouth twisted into something darker.
"Because Natasha is... mine."
Her breath caught. ".What?"
"Not romantically," he hastened to add, reading her reaction. "She’s tied to me now. My slave, in a sense."
Sona blinked in shock. "You... made her a slave?"
"She is a monarch-realm cultivator," he said. "Strong. Deadly. But I shattered her. She is bound by my will now. I stripped her of her pride. She listens. She kneels."
Sona glared at him, something hard in her eyes. "No. You’re lying.
Leon laughed, low and husky, as if pleased she still did not quite believe it. "It’s true. I almost forgot how crazy it sounds when I say it out loud." And then his eyes met hers—firm, sure. "But yes. She’s mine. Body. Will. She belongs to me now."
Sona remained silent.
She just stood there, taking in the impact of his words. The woman she used to know—used to trust—now. his slave?
And yet, strangely, she wasn’t afraid.
Because she trusted him.
Because this was Leon—and the world around him never held to the rules of the ordinary.
A long moment elapsed before she finally nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
She didn’t need to know it all.
She only needed to trust him.
She knew now—everything between them, everything they were up against, was twisted with power, war, secrets... and decisions no one else could make for them.
Leon’s shoulders relaxed as he gazed at her.
He’d anticipated resistance.
But her acceptance. it was more than he could express.
Finally, he let go a breath, voice dropping once more. "Now... I’ll take my leave."
For a very long moment, she did not answer. Then, very slowly, she nodded, small, eyes flashing with torn emotion.
"I don’t know how that can be," she said, hardly above a whisper, "but I believe you."
Her soft words caused something to move in his eyes—something fierce and protective and thankful. She did not know what words meant to him. But he did.
"Then believe me when I say," Leon said quietly, every word slow, "we are close to the end of this chessboard. When the last move is made... I’ll get you out of here. Somewhere safe from all of it. A place where you’ll never have to look over your shoulder again."
The promise in his tone made her heart skip a beat.
Her breath caught faintly at the thought—freedom, peace, the idea of simply being with him without consequence. Her lips tugged into a smile that reached her eyes.
But even as she said it, her eyes lingered on him, wide and searching. Her lips parted slightly—like she wanted to ask him to stay, to reach out and hold him back. But no words came.
Leon turned, as though he was going to walk away.
But before she could even draw a whole breath, he stopped—and turned around.
In a swift motion, he grasped, caught her wrist with firm gentleness, and pulled her close to him.
There was no hesitating.
Leon kissed her—deep and sudden. No restraint, no softness. His arm wrapped around her waist and pushed her into his chest, his mouth slamming against hers with the same kind of desperation that branded itself in the memory.
It was a raw, desperate kiss—one that held a thousand unspoken things: promise, pain, longing.
Neither Sona hesitated.
Her fingers sank into his shoulders as she leaned against him, matching his kiss with equal passion. Her lips stroked against his, meeting his urgency, until their breathing became one, trembling and warm between them.
There was only the quiet, wet tug when their lips finally separated.
A thin, shining strand of saliva remained suspended between them.
Leon leaned in close, his voice husky against her lips. "I’m going right now. But soon... I’ll come and take you away from here."
Her fingertips touched over his chest, resting where his heartbeat thudded strong below.
"I’ll be waiting," she breathed.
He nodded once more, turned from her hold, and walked toward the window.
Sona stared at him, her eyes wide, her own breathing still unsteady. But something didn’t add up. Her brows furrowed slightly.
"Leon? Where are you going?"
He hesitated, looking back with a lifted brow and an amused grin. "Back to the mansion."
She blinked. "Yes, but the door—" Her hand gestured toward the entrance of the chamber. "It’s that way."
Leon’s grin grew. "If I go through the door, someone will see me. If I go through the window..."
He gave her a playful wink. "No one will."
Understanding flickered in her eyes like the first spark of fire.
"Ah..." A soft laugh danced from her lips, breathy and amused. "You’re right."
Leon moved forward, reaching out to the window, his steps slow, self-assured. The warm air wafted through the open windows, edging up the hem of his robe. Sona edged closer, drawn by his self-assured calm, her eyes fastened on him as though fearing to blink.
Her rooms were on the second floor. Not lofty. But still. not low enough for ease.
Leon ascended onto the windowsill as if it were any other stepping stone. Leaning back with ease, he half-turned to her—eyes shining, lips widening in that smile that always made her heart hurt in the worst possible way.
Then, without warning, he jumped.
It was almost unreal—the way his figure moved through the air in a perfect arc, robes billowing like dark wings, and for a moment, he seemed to defy gravity itself.
"This room’s only a floor above the garden," he’d said with a grin. "Simple jump."
Sona’s breath caught in her throat.
"You’re going to—" The words left her too late.
By the time her voice reached the window, he was already gone.
She dashed forward, heart racing, fists clenched on the frame as she leaned out to see.
No glimpse of him at all.
The garden was quiet, still, unbroken by moonlight. No swaying bush. No echo of footfalls. Just nothing, as if he’d never existed at all.
Like a shadow devoured by daylight.
She stood stock-still, the night breeze playing in her hair, her chest heaving and falling with the lingering tension of what she’d witnessed. Her brain reassured her he was okay. Her heart. wasn’t so certain.
And still, a gentle smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, even though she gazed out into the vacant garden below.
A whisper escaped her lips—half desire, half faith.
"Return to me soon, Leon."