Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 125: His watching eyes

Chapter 125: His watching eyes

"My lady was helping me locate old border maps," Nereas said, his voice smooth. "It seems Oakridge was not always considered part of Eldrin territory. Fascinating, isn’t it?"

Liora stepped back. "I was only fetching what he asked."

Lucien looked at her. She met his gaze, unsure, then walked past him without a word.

When she was gone, Lucien turned to the envoy. "Speak plainly."

"I always do," Nereas replied. "It’s not my fault if plain words unsettle noble ears."

Lucien’s smile was grim. "They don’t. But veiled threats do."

Nereas laughed softly. "Come now, Your Grace. I bring nothing but news. And perhaps, a warning."

Lucien leaned closer, eyes cold. "Then speak your warning."

The envoy’s smile vanished. "The Queen Dowager has enemies she doesn’t yet see. And if she falls, the pieces won’t just scatter they’ll shatter. Be careful where you stand, Lucien Blackthorne. The storm is circling."

That night, Liora stood by the herb garden, the cool air brushing her cheeks. She felt it too. the shift. Nereas hadn’t touched her, hadn’t said anything inappropriate. But his questions lingered too long. His attention unsettled her.

Lucien joined her there without a word, stopping at her side.

"You shouldn’t speak with him alone," he said after a while.

She glanced at him. "He asked for help with maps. I thought it harmless."

"Nothing about that man is harmless."

A beat.

She turned her gaze back to the garden. "Do you not trust me to know danger?"

Lucien’s voice softened. "I trust you. It’s him I don’t."

Something in her tightened at his words not the meaning, but the quiet in which he said it.

As if protecting her wasn’t a duty, but something heavier. Unspoken.

Unwanted.

She didn’t reply. Just let the silence stretch between them, strange, uncertain.

Neither of them knew what they were becoming.

But they both knew the world around them was shifting and so were they.

The morning broke with fog drifting low over the eastern cliffs, casting a gray veil across the estate. Lucien had barely slept. He sat at the edge of the war-room table, the envoy’s words echoing in his mind. If she falls, the pieces won’t just scatter, they’ll shatter.

He couldn’t afford to guess which side Nereas was truly on. And he wouldn’t risk Liora being caught in the middle.

Rowan stepped in, grim-faced. "We found something."

Lucien looked up.

Rowan held out a sealed parchment, half-burnt. "One of the new stable boys found it hidden in the straw cart. He was too afraid to come directly."

Lucien took it, recognizing the broken seal, Elyrian court markings. Smuggled correspondence. Likely meant to be destroyed. He read the remnants quickly, eyes narrowing at the words still legible:

"...Petra border movements suspicious... Queen Dowager still unaware... envoy aligned with–"

The rest was lost to burn marks.

Lucien stood. "Where’s Nereas?"

"Gone," Rowan said. "Left before sunrise. No message."

Lucien’s jaw tensed. "He was here for something else."

Rowan hesitated. "There’s more. Liora’s been receiving herbs from the apothecary near the outer woods... but the apothecary claims she never asked for them. They came from another name."

Lucien looked at him sharply.

"Name on the parcel was ’E.H.’"

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. That wasn’t a villager’s name. Nor one he recognized from the court.

"Watch the roads. Increase patrol near Petra. And send word to Samuel....I want names of every trader or noble who’s passed near the border in the last fortnight."

Rowan nodded.

Meanwhile, Liora found herself tending to a quiet patient in the east wing. He was a soldier from the outer patrol, injured but stable. His name was Callen, a sharp-eyed man with a crooked smile and a manner far too polite for a soldier.

"You read, my lady?" he asked as she cleaned his wounds.

She nodded.

"I’ve brought books from my village, our healer was also a scribe. Perhaps you’d like to borrow one?"

She blinked. "That’s... kind of you."

"Only fair. You’ve saved my shoulder. Might as well repay with words."

She allowed a small smile.

Lucien passed the open doorway then, his pace slowing when he caught the scene. Callen’s voice, Liora’s easy nod, the warmth she rarely showed. Lucien didn’t stop. He walked on.

But something twisted in him.

He didn’t like the look in that soldier’s eyes.

Or the softness in Liora’s.

Later that night, Beatrice visited Liora with a tray of tea.

"You’re not sleeping well," the old woman said simply.

"I’m... thinking," Liora replied.

"About?"

"The envoy. His words. His watching eyes."

Beatrice hesitated, then placed the tray down and sat.

"Liora, you’re clever. I won’t pretend to like you yet, but you’re not as dull as I first assumed. Whatever that man was looking for... I don’t think it was just politics."

Liora frowned. "Then what?"

Beatrice gave her a long look. "Perhaps you’re more useful than they expected. And that’s a dangerous place to be."

Lucien stood on the estate’s high balcony, the lantern lights of the distant Petra outpost flickering like restless fireflies. The evening breeze stirred his coat, and behind him, Rowan stepped in with measured urgency.

"The patrol lines were tampered with," Rowan said. "Samuel confirmed it wasn’t weather. Someone shifted the markers near the southern slope. Just enough to create confusion if conflict breaks."

Lucien’s gaze didn’t leave the horizon. "Who benefits from that confusion?"

Rowan was silent.

Lucien turned, voice low. "Find out."

Elsewhere in the estate, Liora sat near the east window of the infirmary, flicking through Callen’s worn book. It wasn’t remarkable, an old volume of medicinal lore, but between its pages, a note had been tucked. Neatly written. Unsigned.

"Don’t trust the quiet. It’s where the loudest things hide."

Her fingers trembled slightly. Not from fear, but recognition. The handwriting was eerily similar to a letter she’d seen long ago, from a scholar who’d worked with her parents before their deaths.

She pressed the paper into the folds of her robe, mind racing. Why now?

Behind her, Callen stirred on his cot. "You’re up late."

"I could ask the same of you," she replied, her tone cautious but not cold.

He gave her a sheepish look. "Hard to sleep. Too quiet."

She stood. "Rest. You need it."

He offered a lazy smile. "You don’t trust me, do you?"

Liora didn’t answer.

Callen laughed under his breath. "Smart girl."

As she left, his gaze lingered on the closed door far longer than it should have.

Meanwhile, in the hidden western wing of the estate, a place rarely visited except by trusted aides, Rowan pulled back a tapestry, revealing a sealed wall compartment. Inside were documents long thought lost, property transfers, coded letters from nobles tied to the late Queen Alden’s mother... and a single crest pressed into wax: the symbol of the House of Erenthil.

Rowan’s mouth went dry.

That House had been extinguished decades ago.

Or so they thought.

Later, as Lucien passed through the corridor outside Liora’s chambers, he paused. A faint sliver of light escaped from beneath her door. He didn’t knock. Just stood there.

Then walked away.

But he didn’t know she stood on the other side, her back against the wood, listening too.

The following evening, the estate was quiet, the kind of quiet that made even the bravest of souls uneasy. The servants moved swiftly, completing their tasks, their gazes occasionally flicking to the shadows where a form might be seen, only to quickly retreat. Lucien felt it too, the tension hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

In the infirmary, Liora was more on edge than she’d let anyone know. The letter was still tucked securely inside her robe, and the weight of its words gnawed at her mind. "Don’t trust the quiet. It’s where the loudest things hide." Her every instinct screamed that something was amiss, but she couldn’t place what. Not yet.

Callen had long since fallen asleep, his breathing steady, but Liora remained vigilant, her eyes scanning every corner of the room as if expecting someone to emerge from the walls. When the clock struck midnight, she finally exhaled and rose from her chair, deciding that perhaps she needed answers from a more unexpected source.

She had always been observant, but Lucien’s quiet movements around the estate had given her pause. He wasn’t just a prince. He wasn’t merely a ruler trying to hold things together. There was something deeper, darker, that held him apart. And tonight, she was going to find out what it was.

Outside, the night was dense with shadows, the lanterns flickering against the oppressive blackness of the surrounding wilderness. Liora made her way through the quiet halls, her feet making barely a sound on the marble floors. It wasn’t until she reached the grand stairwell that she hesitated. She knew what this meant, crossing a line that perhaps shouldn’t be crossed.

Lucien’s private study was just a floor above, and in his absence, she had seen enough to recognize the arcane elegance of the place. The heavy curtains, the scent of ink, and the books, so many books, each one seemingly leading to a new mystery. Yet, she wasn’t there for the books. She was there to find what was hidden beneath them.

Her hand rested briefly on the door handle before she twisted it and entered the room.

The faintest creak of the hinges echoed in the silent study. The moonlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting long shadows across the wooden desk and the ancient maps that adorned the walls. It wasn’t a room meant for visitors, not even for someone as trusted as she had become.

She walked in, her breath shallow, her heart a quiet thrum in her chest. Every inch of the room seemed to hold secrets, and she felt it, a sense of being watched, even in the solitude.

Liora’s gaze fell on the desk where a familiar map was unfolded, one she had seen only once before, during her time with her parents. It depicted the borders of the kingdom and its neighboring lands. But this map was different. There were markings in places she didn’t recognize, and her eyes quickly darted over the lines.

Then, she found it.

A small circle, drawn around the northern edge of the map, near the old, forgotten territories. The place her parents had spoken of, where something dangerous was said to be hidden.

But why had Lucien marked it? Was it truly just a line on the map, or had he been planning something she didn’t understand?

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