Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 131: Price of forgetting her blood

Chapter 131: Price of forgetting her blood

Night settled over the estate with a cold hush. Lucien’s study remained lit long after the halls had gone quiet, the map of Petra still stretched across the desk like a wound needing stitching.

Rowan returned just past midnight, the scent of travel dust on his cloak and a dark look in his eyes.

"You were right," he said, throwing down a folded parchment. "Caelum isn’t just an envoy. He was once part of Valtoria’s intelligence branch, serving directly under High Chancellor Mavric."

Lucien’s brow furrowed. "A spy?"

"Likely still one," Rowan said grimly. "And guess what else he was in Petra three years ago. Part of a covert mission during the coastal siege."

Lucien’s fingers tightened. "So they’re not just here for peace."

"No. They’re watching you, Lucien. And they want Liora at the center of it. Either to draw her out or use her."

Lucien’s voice was a whisper. "They think I’m weak."

"They think she is," Rowan corrected.

Lucien’s jaw clenched. "They’ll be disappointed."

Liora sat in the estate gardens alone, moonlight casting pale shadows on the frost-bitten leaves. Beatrice found her there, her shawl wrapped tight.

"You should be sleeping, dear," the older woman murmured.

"I couldn’t," Liora said softly. "Too much noise in my head."

Beatrice lowered herself onto the stone bench beside her. "It’s him, isn’t it? The envoy."

Liora didn’t respond right away. Then, "He spoke to me as if I was some kind of answer. I’m not even sure what the question is."

Beatrice patted her hand. "Men like that, always speaking in riddles, always expecting the world to shift at their command. You’re not his pawn, child."

"And Lucien?" Liora asked, surprising even herself with the name.

Beatrice’s hand paused. "That one... he’s different. Quiet storm, that boy. But don’t wait for him to say what’s already in his eyes."

Liora blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Beatrice said, rising with a soft grunt, "sometimes a man watches not because he doubts you, but because he’s afraid you’ll leave before he knows how to keep you."

Liora was left staring at the silver-lined garden, thoughts heavy.

Far across the border, in a tower carved into black stone, Chancellor Mavric read Caelum’s letter by candlelight.

"So she lives," he muttered. "And now she belongs to the wolf."

He folded the letter, sealing it with his ring. "Then we’ll see how long that loyalty lasts."

Behind him, another figure stepped from the shadows, a woman in a Valtorian officer’s uniform, her eyes sharp, hair braided in a military coil.

"Shall I prepare to leave?"

Mavric nodded. "It’s time she remembers the price of forgetting her blood."

Lucien stood before the hearth, the map rolled and tied on his desk, though his eyes remained on the flames. Rowan had left hours ago to arrange silent patrols around the estate, and the halls were quieter than usual eerily so. He hated stillness. It reminded him too much of the aftermaths: after battles, after betrayal, after loss.

He hadn’t meant to look for her. But somehow, he found himself at the far end of the corridor, where the warm light spilling from the garden room flickered gently.

Liora was there, curled in a corner seat, a book open in her lap, though her eyes were distant.

He should’ve turned away. He didn’t.

"You’re awake late," he said, keeping his voice calm.

She blinked and closed the book carefully. "So are you."

A soft pause.

"I didn’t mean to disturb," he added.

"You didn’t," she replied. "I... I couldn’t sleep."

He stepped further in, the firelight casting amber across his features. "Do you often come here?"

"Only when everything feels too loud in my head," she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sometimes silence helps."

Lucien nodded faintly and sat down across from her.

"There’s danger coming," he said after a moment.

"I figured as much," Liora said, studying him. "From the way you and Rowan have been... sharper lately."

He looked away for a second before meeting her gaze again. "If it comes to you... I’ll protect you."

"I don’t expect you to," she said quietly, but her voice softened. "But I’m grateful."

He gave a half-smile, small and rare. "I don’t do it out of duty."

She swallowed, heart thudding. "Then why?"

Lucien didn’t answer immediately. "I don’t know yet," he said, not cruelly but honestly.

They sat in silence again, but this one didn’t feel as heavy.

Outside, the wind rustled through the frost-crisp leaves. Inside, something had shifted between them, barely noticeable.

And miles away, under the cold sky, the Valtorian officer crossed into their land, a sealed letter tucked in her cloak and a name on her tongue.

The news of an unfamiliar rider approaching the estate reached Rowan just before dawn.

He had stationed extra guards by the northern woods, and one of them a sharp-eyed lad from Petra had ridden back with word of a lone traveler carrying official Valtorian insignia. Not a letter this time, but a person.

Lucien stood by the eastern window, arms crossed as the gray morning light filtered in. "Describe him again," he said, his tone clipped.

Rowan obliged. "Not him, sire. Her."

Lucien turned.

"She’s traveling light. Leather-bound satchel, military seal. No banners. But the guard swears she asked for the Miral girl, not for you."

His jaw tightened. "Send word to Samuel. I want the east wing cleared of unnecessary staff. If she came under Valtorian command, she’s either desperate or too confident."

Rowan hesitated. "You want her brought in?"

Lucien nodded slowly. "Yes. But not to me. Have her kept in the smaller receiving chamber first. I’ll observe. And I want Liora nowhere near her."

Rowan dipped his head and left.

Liora woke late, the cold having crept in during the night. Her shoulders were stiff, the words from last night echoing in her head. I don’t do it out of duty. What had he meant? What did she want him to mean?

She didn’t have long to wonder.

Beatrice knocked, gentle but firm. "Lady Liora, there’s someone from Valtoria here. A woman."

Here’s the continuation:

The next morning, the calm of the estate was broken by the sound of hooves on gravel. Lucien stood by the upper gallery, watching from the window as a single rider approached a woman cloaked in grey, bearing the red insignia of Valtor.

Rowan met her at the gates. Their conversation was brief but tense. Moments later, the rider dismounted and followed Rowan into the estate.

Lucien was already waiting in the drawing room when they arrived.

"Lord Blackthorne," the woman said, offering a scroll. "I come bearing a message from Commander Halvern of Valtor’s Eastern Border."

Lucien took the scroll but did not read it immediately. "And your name?"

"Captain Serina Vallis."

"You crossed the border alone?"

"I was ordered to travel discreetly."

Lucien unrolled the message. His eyes scanned the contents, his jaw tightening.

"They’re asking for a summit," he said aloud, his voice laced with disbelief. "A delegation of peace?"

Serina stood straighter. "It is more a request to... investigate the potential for peace. Commander Halvern believes the current tensions benefit neither side."

Lucien folded the letter and looked up. "And why deliver it to me and not the king?"

Serina’s gaze didn’t waver. "Because you’re the one they trust not to poison the terms."

There was a sharp silence.

Rowan, standing behind, raised a brow.

Lucien smirked, cold and sharp. "They remember me better than I thought."

Serina bowed slightly. "The commander asks for a neutral location. Petra was suggested."

That name again. It was no longer a coincidence.

Lucien dismissed her for the time being, instructing Rowan to find lodging within the estate for the night.

As the door shut behind her, Lucien turned to Rowan.

"I want everything we know on Commander Halvern. And Petra, again."

"You think they’re baiting you?"

"I don’t think." I know."

Meanwhile, Liora passed the corridor just as Serina exited the chamber. The two women shared a glance brief but unmistakably measuring.

Serina nodded. "You must be Lady Miral."

Liora stiffened, surprised. "And you are?"

"Someone who might be seeing more of you soon."

And with that, she walked on.

Liora watched

Lucien stood in the war room, arms crossed, the candlelight painting his profile in stark shadows. Rowan leaned over the edge of the map, tapping the parchment with the butt of his dagger.

"Mavric won’t act openly," Rowan said. "He’ll use pawns. He always does."

Lucien’s jaw tightened. "Then we pull the board from under him. If Caelum came to see her, he’ll come again. And when he does... we’ll be ready."

"You want to use Liora as bait?" Samuel asked from the far side of the room, his voice even but laced with concern.

Lucien’s gaze flicked to him. "No. I want them to think we are."

Rowan gave a slow, tight nod. "Dangerous gamble."

"That’s the only kind we have left," Lucien murmured.

Liora stood in the corridor outside, having heard enough.

She wasn’t angry. Not quite. But the weight of being a piece on a board, no matter how noble the cause, was growing heavier by the hour.

She turned away and walked into the dark wing of the estate, the air cold and untouched. She found herself near the old observatory, a dome once used by Lucien’s mother to map stars.

Beatrice was already there, a blanket draped across her shoulders, a candle burning low beside her.

"You’re not sleeping either," Liora said softly.

Beatrice looked up, smiling faintly. "No. This is when the ghosts walk."

Liora stepped closer. "I don’t want to be used to trap someone. I’ve lived my life being discarded. I won’t be a trap."

Beatrice’s expression sobered. "You’re not a trap. You’re the fire they fear will burn them if they reach too far."

Liora looked down at her hands. "Lucien doesn’t see that."

"Oh, but he does. That’s the problem. He sees it and doesn’t know what to do with it."