Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 676: Roots Beneath the Crown

Roots Beneath the Crown

The noise of the courtyard still lingered behind them—soldiers dispersing, servants bowing, petals crushed beneath boots—but this moment narrowed into something smaller. More personal.

Rias crossed her arms but couldn’t hide the curve of her grin. "You’re dismissing us too?"

Leon gave her a look.

It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t sharp. It was the look of a man who knew exactly what she was doing—and refused to be dragged into it.

"You’ve been on horseback for days."

Aria brushed a strand of purple hair from her face, violet eyes gleaming with quiet challenge. "And whose fault is that?"

Leon’s brow lifted.

"Last I checked," he said calmly, "none of you were chained to a saddle."

"Oh?" Syra tilted her head, green eyes sparkling. "So we chose to follow you across half the continent?"

"You say that like you regret it," Leon replied.

"I say that like you’re pretending you didn’t enjoy us chasing after you," she shot back.

Cynthia hid a small smile, fingers folding neatly in front of her. "He did send word late," she murmured, almost thoughtfully. "As if daring us to catch up."

Leon didn’t confirm it.

He didn’t deny it either.

Syra leaned slightly toward Kyra. "He missed us," she whispered audibly.

Kyra nodded, perfectly straight-faced. "Clearly. He prepared petals."

A faint crunch sounded under Leon’s boot as he shifted his weight.

Leon exhaled slowly.

"I prepared a kingdom," he corrected mildly.

Rias stepped closer, brushing petals off his shoulder deliberately—slowly, unnecessarily slowly. Her crimson hair slid forward like a curtain of silk as she leaned in just enough to invade his space.

"And you think that means we don’t want to see where you live now?"

Her voice softened at the end—not teasing. Not entirely.

There it was.

That spark.

That familiarity.

Not nobles speaking to a king.

Not ministers speaking to a ruler.

Just... them.

Leon’s eyes softened again.

"You’ll see everything," he said. "But first, you rest. Freshen up. Eat something that wasn’t cooked over a roadside fire."

Aria sighed dramatically. "I’ll have you know my cooking was perfectly acceptable."

"It was edible," Cynthia corrected gently.

"It built character," Syra added.

"It nearly built a grave," Kyra muttered.

Rias laughed under her breath. "You’re worried about us being tired," she said, studying Leon’s face more closely now. "Or are you worried about something else?"

Leon held her gaze.

There was the faintest pause.

"Both," he admitted quietly.

That answer stilled them more effectively than any command.

Natasha adjusted her gloves, posture crisp as ever. "He’s right."

Rias shot her a look. "You’re agreeing too quickly."

Natasha met her gaze evenly. "Because I’m tired."

Not the tired of sleep. The tired of fighting. Of watching, waiting, bracing.

The words landed between them and something in the air cracked.

Mia covered her mouth as a soft laugh slipped out, fragile but real. "That might be the most honest thing anyone’s said today."

Cassidy released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her shoulders dropped. "Thank the heavens. I thought we were about to argue for another hour."

Rias folded her arms, though the sharpness in her posture dulled. "I wasn’t going to argue."

"You absolutely were," Aria said lightly, one brow lifting.

Rias sniffed. "I was going to clarify."

"Of course," Cynthia murmured.

A few petals drifted down from the flowering trees overhead, brushing against Lira’s silver-white hair. It shimmered faintly in the filtered sunlight as she stepped forward, her icy blue eyes steady on Leon.

"Where are you taking us?"

There was no challenge in her voice. Just quiet expectation.

Leon turned and gestured toward the inner estate beyond the palace gardens. Through the carved archways and trimmed hedges, the deeper grounds stretched inward like the heart of a hidden kingdom.

"My personal estate is at the center," he said. "Behind the old spring gardens."

Sona’s blue eyes brightened faintly. "Water gardens?"

"Yes."

A subtle warmth touched his tone when he answered her.

Sona’s lips curved. "You always liked water."

"It’s quiet," Leon replied. "And it remembers."

Aria tilted her head, intrigued. "The old spring gardens were sealed for years."

"They were neglected," Leon corrected calmly. "Not forgotten."

Cynthia watched him closely, her black eyes unreadable. "You chose the center."

It wasn’t a question.

Leon nodded once.

"I intend to stay."

That single line hung heavier than any vow.

No grand declaration. No promise of conquest. Just presence.

Rias’s expression softened, just a little.

He wasn’t saying he intended to rule.

He was saying he intended to build.

And building meant roots.

Leon began walking.

There was no signal given. No command spoken. Yet his wives fell into step around him as if drawn by instinct, their movements unforced and natural. The rhythm formed without discussion—Rias at his side, Lira a step behind, Cynthia slightly to the other side, the others aligning without friction.

Behind them, the maids shifted smoothly into formation. Black hair, black eyes, disciplined silence. Not stiff. Not cold. Simply precise.

Guards adjusted positions with quiet efficiency. Armor shifted. Steel glinted.

Commander Black’s voice cut through the courtyard—short, sharp commands delivered without panic.

"Outer perimeter—rotate."

"Gate detail—tighten spacing."

"Keep the center lane clear."

Into motion they went, not a single stumble as gaps closed tight. A rhythm took hold - sharp turns followed by quiet stillness. Each step matched the next, no shouting needed. Space shifted between them, yet never broke the flow. Discipline held where noise might have ruled.

A breath rose from the open yard. Stillness, once held like a note, now shifted - calmly into movement. No rush. No strain. Simply change.

Under the inner gate’s curve, shadows cut across their path just as light spilled back - Rias edged nearer to Leon without speaking. The stone above bore grooves of old chiseling, its weight felt more than seen when the sun dipped behind clouds again. A slight shift, almost unnoticed, carried her sleeve brushing his arm. Air moved slow there, thickened by centuries pressed into mortar and memory alike.

Fingers nearly touched, fabric just grazing skin.

Into the quiet air slipped the sound of cloth brushing skin, slow and near silent as they moved forward together. His arm felt it first - a gentle pressure like breath - yet nobody shifted aside.

"You didn’t look nervous," she said quietly.

She stood there without blame. Only wonder filled the air. Her, simply her.

"I wasn’t."

Her chin dipped slightly, a sideways glance creeping his way through half-lowered eyelids. A pause hung before she named him false

A small twist tugged at Leon’s lips. Not quite a smile, more like recognition held tight. He said it softly: "Just a little."

"Only slightly," she repeated under her breath, amused. "You stood before half the council like a statue carved from black marble."

Not a drop of sweat on any statue, he said with a flat voice.

You did, she snapped.

His breath came out slow, through the nose. Slight was what I meant

From the back, a quiet chuckle slipped out. Behind them, someone exhaled a gentle ha.

Over by his opposite shoulder, Aria shifted with slow grace. Not a glance right away. Instead, she took him in - how tight his frame stayed despite everything, how his eyes swept across eaves and dark corners like they had a mind of their own.

You shifted, she noted, watching him closely without hiding it.

"How?"