Chapter 751: Zephyra’s Sneak Atack

For a few heartbeat, they simply stared into each other’s eyes in total silence.

Finally, Sol couldn’t resist. He leaned forward swiftly and planted a firm, blunt peck right on her soft, parted lips.

SMACK.

Before Veylara could react, protest, or raise a hand, Sol leaped out of the bed like a startled cat, landing lightly on his feet two paces away.

"Okay, okay! So this is my position in your heart!" Sol cried out, clutching his chest with both hands, his face twisted into a mock, heartbroken grimace. "After using my body to satisfy your desires, you just kick me out into the cold night! How cruel, Warchief!"

Veylara’s jaw dropped in sheer exasperation. "Don’t talk nonsense!" she barked, her cheeks burning bright crimson as she grabbed a heavy fur pillow from the bed and hurled it full-force straight at his smug face. "It is nothing like that! You... you are just making things up!"

CATCH.

Sol casually caught the flying pillow with one hand, tossing it back onto the bed with an amused chuckle. Seeing her fierce, flustered expression, he knew it was time to stop pushing her buttons.

He walked over to where his clothes lay, picking up his dark trousers and clean linen tunic.

He pulled them on with practiced ease, securing his belt and shoe, while Veylara sat up on the furs, glaring daggers at him with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, though the burning redness in her cheeks betrayed her.

Once he was fully dressed, Sol walked back over to the raised wooden platform and sat casually on the very edge of the bed, looking at her flushed face, his crimson eyes softening into a quiet, genuine warmth.

"I was just joking, Veylara," Sol said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. "No need to be angry. I know why you’re doing this, and I know it’s for the good of the tribe and everyone involved. Don’t be mad."

Hearing his gentle, understanding tone, the lingering embarrassment in Veylara’s chest completely dissolved. She let out a quiet, vanquished sigh, her posture softening as she looked at him with an undeniable, liquid warmth in her sapphire eyes.

Seeing that her anger had completely melted, Sol’s eyes glinted with dark mischief once more.

He leaned in like a flash, planted another lightning-fast peck right on her lips, and instantly launched himself backward off the bed, sprinting full-speed toward the cedar door!

He slammed his hand onto the latch, threw the door open, and paused at the threshold just long enough to look over his shoulder with a wicked grin.

"But... you are really cute when you’re angry, Chief!" Sol laughed.

Without waiting for a response, he shoved the cedar door open and bolted out into the hallway.

"AHHH—! Veylara’s furious, embarrassed shriek echoed from the furs as she grabbed a pillow to hurl at him. "Wait right there, you brute! I will show you what is cute!"

Sol heard the roar, but instead of slowing down, his grin broadened and he ran even faster down the passage with a boisterous, triumphant chuckle.

Back in the bedchamber, Veylara didn’t actually give chase. She sat on the white furs, listening to his hasty, retreating footsteps, before collapsing back against the pile of plush pillows.

A bright, helpless, and blissfully happy smile broke across her face, her hand rising to lightly touch her lips where his mouth had just lingered.

Reaching the heavy fur drape at the end of the corridor, Sol slowed his pace. He took a deep, steady breath, running his fingers through his dark hair to smooth out the mess.

He smoothed down his clean linen tunic, cleared his throat, and adopted that same stern, dignified, and solemn expression he had worn when entering

He pushed through the drape, walked across the empty, cavernous council hall, and reached the grand ironwood doors of the Great Lodge. He heaved the door open and stepped out into the crisp, moonlit night.

The two elite sentries stationed outside immediately snapped their fists to their chests, saluting with rigid, emotional reverence as the Supreme Spear emerged from the late-night statecraft session.

Sol offered them a dignified, formal nod in return, stepping past them onto the stairs.

He hadn’t taken five steps down when a slender, white-robed figure stepped out from the shadows of the side walkway, walking straight toward the lodge stairs.

It was High Shaman Zephyra.

The high shaman walked with effortless grace, looking like a moon goddess who had descended the world.

Seeing Sol exiting the Great Lodge alone at such a late hour, Zephyra paused for a fraction of a second.

For a single, fleeting second, a look of genuine surprise crossed her face, swiftly followed by a wicked, immensely sardonic smirk that bloomed across her features, though she quickly smoothed her composure back into serene calm.

Sol was equally surprised to bump into her.

He hadn’t seen Zephyra for the past few days, as she had been deeply absorbed in conducting ancestral rituals and weaving defensive spirit-wards around the newly expanded perimeter.

Before Sol could offer a formal greeting, Zephyra stepped forward with surprising speed. Her hand shot out, her fingers wrapping firmly around Sol’s forearm.

"It is good that we met here, Sol," Zephyra said, her raspy voice carrying an authoritative, solemn weight. "I have several critical, highly important matters that require your immediate input."

Sol blinked, slightly caught off guard, but nodded respectfully. "Oh. Okay, Shaman."

He obediently turned and followed behind her as she led him down the side steps.

Up on the top landing, the two elite sentries watched the scene unfold with eyes wide as clay saucers, their hearts swelling with an almost overwhelming wave of emotional reverence.

"Did you see that?" the younger guard whispered, his voice trembling with deep, heartfelt emotion.

"Lord Sol just finished hours of grueling, exhaustive discussion with the Warchief... and now, without even taking a single rest, he is immediately going with the High Shaman to discuss critical matters for our clan."

The other guard nodded fervently, wiping a stray tear of admiration from the corner of his eye. "Hmph! He works day and night, sacrificing his sleep, his leisure, and his youth for the future of the Veynar! He is truly a role model for every Veynar warrior! We are blessed beyond measure!"

"Aye! A true pillar of the clan!" the guard agreed solemnly, adjusting his grip on his pike.

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to the fact that he was currently being worshipped as a tireless martyr, Sol was being briskly pulled along by Zephyra.

The moment they turned a sharp corner away from the Great Lodge, stepping into the deep, dark shadow of a high timber storehouse where no prying eyes or sentries could see them, Zephyra slowed her stride.

Sol stopped, looking down at the white-robed mystic in the dim moonlight. "Alright, Shaman, what’s so critical that couldn’t wait until—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Zephyra moved.

With the startling, feral agility of a huntress, she spun around, grabbed both of his shoulders, and slammed him backward against the smooth wooden wall of the storehouse!

THUMP.

Before Sol could even raise an eyebrow, the High Shaman stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her mouth against his in a wild, fierce, and surprisingly deep kiss!