Heena stood by the window, entirely caught in the act. She didn't panic, nor did she break eye contact. She simply let out an exhausted breath, walked over to the table, and collapsed into the chair opposite him.
"Don't start with the jealous husband routine," Heena groaned, rubbing her temples. "I am too tired to deal with your possessive scholarly aura tonight."
Samuel set his teacup down. The dangerous glint in his eyes didn't fade, but it was quickly joined by genuine, calculating curiosity. He looked at her dusty boots, the faint smudge of market dirt on her cloak, and the heavy exhaustion weighing down her shoulders.
"You were not with the military," Samuel deduced instantly, his brilliant mind connecting the dots. "Your grandfather has been in the main hall all evening complaining about Seera's absence. And you did not take your shadow guards."
He leaned forward, the terrifyingly sharp politician returning to the surface. "Where did you go, Wife?"
