Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 123: I thought I’d lost.

Chapter 123: I thought I’d lost.

The following morning dawned dim and gray, as if the skies themselves were hesitant about what the day might bring.

Lucien stood atop the stone terrace, eyes scanning the fog-covered hills. Rowan had just left him with an update, Samuel had intercepted a messenger riding from the Petra border, carrying a sealed letter addressed not to the crown, but to Lady Liora Miral. The use of her family name chilled Lucien more than the cold wind that whipped around him now.

Back inside the estate, Liora sat at her desk, fingers tracing over the small comb Beatrice had left behind. The woman’s words still echoed: "Sometimes, your worth is buried under what others bury you with. Dig deep, girl. You might find something they fear."

She barely registered Lucien entering the room until the door clicked shut.

He was holding a sealed scroll.

She rose, her brows narrowing. "What is it?"

"A message," he said, his voice unreadable. "It was meant for you."

Her eyes widened slightly as she took the scroll, the wax bearing a sigil she didn’t recognize; it was half-sun, half-crescent, entwined in vines. It looked old. Faded. Almost... forgotten.

"Do you recognize it?" Lucien asked.

She shook her head slowly, though something inside her stirred. A shiver. A memory not hers, and yet entirely hers.

"I need to know what’s in it," Lucien said. "But I’ll let you open it first."

She nodded and broke the seal.

The parchment inside was written in a foreign script, flowing and precise. She couldn’t read all of it, but a few words struck her instantly, Miral, daughter, asylum, safe. Her lips parted, breath catching.

"It’s from the East," she whispered. "Someone claiming... they knew my mother."

Lucien didn’t move.

"Then they know about you," he said after a pause. "And they know where you are now."

She nodded, eyes distant.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, until she looked up at him.

"Do you think I’m dangerous now?"

His gaze held hers, unflinching.

"No," he said. "But someone else might."

She lowered her eyes, her heart twisting.

Lucien stepped closer, his voice softer now.

"Whatever this is... we face it together. You’re not alone anymore, Liora."

And there it was, that quiet promise. Not made in grand declarations, but in presence. In steadfastness. In the subtle shift from guarded duty to something gentler.

Liora nodded slowly.

"Then I’ll need to learn what they’re saying. I need to remember."

Lucien offered a small nod. "We’ll start with the palace records. And I’ll have Rowan dig into the archives at Petra."

He paused, then added, "But tonight, you rest."

Her lips quirked faintly. "Is that an order?"

A rare smile touched his mouth. "Consider it a request. From someone who needs you sharp. And safe."

As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him.

"Lucien."

He looked back.

"Thank you."

He didn’t reply. But his eyes, soft for the first time in days, said enough.

The candle burned low in Liora’s chamber that night, the pale flame casting long shadows on the walls. She sat by the window, the letter resting in her lap, as if it might whisper its truths if she stared long enough.

Across the hall, Rowan arrived at Lucien’s study with a thick, dust-covered tome in hand.

"The seal on the scroll," Rowan began, placing the book on the desk, "matches an old noble house from the Eastern Highlands. House Virell."

Lucien turned sharply. "Virell? That line was thought to be extinct."

"Wiped out during the Western rebellions," Rowan confirmed. "But records suggest they had ties to the Mirals through an unspoken alliance. Secretive. Never declared publicly."

Lucien’s mind raced. "And now someone from that house reaches out to Liora."

"She may be the last living link between the two," Rowan said. "Which means others will notice soon."

Lucien’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like what this meant, not just for Liora, but for himself. For how deeply entwined she was becoming in the very politics he once vowed to abandon.

Across the estate, Liora was visited by Samuel, who handed her a small folded parchment.

"It came through the back route," he said. "No insignia. Just your name."

Once alone, Liora unfolded it. The message was short.

"Not all ghosts sleep. Come to the edge of the western orchard by dusk tomorrow. Come alone."

She gripped the parchment tightly. Her instincts whispered caution. But something deeper urged her to go.

The next morning, she said nothing to Lucien. Not as they shared quiet glances over tea. Not when she handed him the scroll again for translation. But he noticed.

He always did.

"Something’s changed," he said when they passed briefly in the corridor.

"I’m just... remembering things," she answered with a faint smile. "Memories have sharp teeth."

Lucien paused, wanting to push, but stopping himself. Instead, he nodded.

"Then don’t face them alone."

She didn’t respond. Because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to keep him out... or let him in.

By dusk, Liora slipped out through the servants’ path, cloak pulled close. The orchard stood still under the golden light, branches whispering in the wind.

There, beneath the arch of an ancient tree, stood a man cloaked in gray, face hidden.

"You came," he said.

His voice was familiar.

"You’re..."

"A friend of your mother," he said before she could finish. "And the truth is not what you’ve been told."

Liora’s heart pounded.

"Then tell me," she said, voice steady.

The man nodded, pulling something from his cloak—a pendant.

Her mother’s.

The one she thought was buried with her.

Liora stared at the pendant in the man’s hand. Its silver frame was dented at the edge, but the filigree, those delicate curves etched in flame-like patterns, was unmistakable.

"My mother wore that the day she died," she whispered.

The man nodded solemnly. "Because she knew she’d be hunted."

"Why?"

"She uncovered something the court buried long ago, something that cost lives to silence. But she was brave. She didn’t run. She sent you away to protect you, not abandon you."

Liora took a step back, confusion coiling inside her. "Then why let me grow up believing I was discarded?"

He hesitated, eyes shadowed beneath his hood. "Because knowing the truth would have painted a target on your back. Safer to let you think you were unloved... than hunted."

"And now?" Her voice turned colder.

"Now, others are looking. Queen Dowager Lilian’s eyes reach farther than you know. And you’re no longer invisible."

Liora’s hands trembled. "Who are you to me?"

"Someone who owes your mother a debt," he said quietly. "And who doesn’t want you to die for something you don’t understand?"

Before she could press further, he turned and vanished into the deeper orchard shadows. She stood there long after he’d gone, her mother’s pendant clenched tightly in her hand.

Back at the estate, Lucien stood in the courtyard, watching the moon begin its climb. Rowan approached silently.

"She’s not in her chambers," Rowan said. "And Samuel said she went for air... but that was over an hour ago."

Lucien didn’t answer at first. His eyes were fixed on the treeline.

"She wouldn’t have left without reason."

"Then let’s find her," Rowan offered.

Lucien’s hands curled into fists. "No. I’ll go."

Rowan paused, sensing something unspoken. "You’re worried."

"She’s not just another player in this game," Lucien murmured. "There’s something... familiar in her defiance. In the way she walks into danger thinking she can solve it herself."

"Reminds you of someone?" Rowan asked, voice gentle.

Lucien didn’t reply.

Instead, he turned, heading straight for the stables.

Liora, meanwhile, had just slipped back through the rear gate when she nearly collided with him at the edge of the gardens.

She froze. His eyes scanned her face, her breathless state, and the smudge of dirt on her skirt.

"You were gone," he said, voice low. "Where?"

She looked up at him. "Walking."

"In the dark? Through the orchard?"

"I needed to think."

His gaze dropped to her clenched fist. "What’s that?"

Her fingers closed tighter. "Something I thought I’d lost."

Lucien stepped closer, eyes narrowing slightly. "You don’t have to lie to me, Liora."

"And you don’t have to pretend to care," she shot back.

The silence that fell between them was heavy.

Then he said softly, "But I do."

Her eyes widened, just for a second.

But she didn’t reply.

And he didn’t press.

Instead, he simply turned and walked beside her, saying nothing more Letting the night carry the weight of words they weren’t ready to say.

Lucien said nothing as they returned to the estate. The quiet between them wasn’t cold; it pulsed with too many unsaid things. Liora felt it in the way his shoulder almost brushed hers and in how his steps matched her pace without trying.

When they reached the stone steps, he paused.

"If anything ever troubles you again," he said without looking at her, "don’t walk alone."

She turned to him. "Would you have come looking?"

He met her gaze. "I already did."

That answer lingered between them longer than it should have. Liora gave a small nod and went inside.

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