Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 139: Man from last night

Chapter 139: Man from last night

Liora paused. "You mean Lord Lucien?"

He nodded. "He looks like he bites."

"He does," she replied, then added, "but he also listens." Sometimes."

Theo gave a low whistle. "A dangerous combination."

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Lucien stepped in, his coat still speckled with dust from his earlier ride. His eyes fell first on Theo, then shifted to Liora.

"I see you’ve been... busy," he said, his voice smooth but unmistakably cool.

Liora straightened. "Captain Theo was helping as you instructed."

"I remember no such instruction," Lucien replied evenly, then turned to Theo. "Captain, report to Rowan for new assignments. You’ll be stationed closer to the western post."

Theo hesitated, then bowed. "Yes, my lord." He met Liora’s eyes once before exiting.

The door shut with a soft click.

Liora turned. "Was that necessary?"

Lucien’s gaze met hers. "He seemed too eager."

"He was helping."

"And you seemed too comfortable," Lucien said, his voice sharper than intended.

Liora stepped back, frowning. "Is that a problem?"

Lucien exhaled, eyes narrowing. "You are under my protection. I would be cautious about whom you smile at."

Her jaw tightened. "So smiling is forbidden now?"

Lucien didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward, but this time, not to intimidate. His tone dropped, not harsh but low, almost uncertain.

"Just... be careful, Liora."

Then he left.

And for the first time, Liora stood in the silence, unsure if she had just seen a flash of something, possessiveness, perhaps? Or concern?

The wind was louder that night, brushing past windowpanes with a soft whistle as if whispering secrets through the corridors of Lucien’s estate. Liora stood in front of the mirror in her chamber, brushing her hair, her thoughts distant. Her reflection didn’t show it, but inside, she was tangled in confusion.

Why had Lucien reacted that way?

She wasn’t foolish; she understood jealousy when she saw it. But it was also unlike Lucien to show his cards so openly. What had stirred him?

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

She wrapped her shawl and opened the door. Beatrice stood there, lantern in hand, her grey eyes sharp.

"Lady Liora. Come."

Liora blinked. "Is something wrong?"

Beatrice’s voice was calm, but her expression betrayed urgency. "The western guards found something... or rather someone."

Down in the inner estate’s makeshift holding chamber, originally built for wounded prisoners of war, Lucien stood, arms crossed. Rowan and Samuel flanked him, their faces grim.

A man knelt on the floor, hands tied behind his back. His clothes were travel-worn, his face marred by a bruised cheek and a cut on his temple. He bore the insignia of Petra’s western militia, but what was more striking was what was found hidden in his boot.

A message scroll, marked with a seal Lucien hadn’t seen in years.

Liora arrived with Beatrice, eyes widening at the scene.

Lucien spoke without looking at her. "Caught just past the southern orchard. He was hiding under a merchant’s wagon. Recognize this symbol?"

He held up the broken seal. Liora stepped closer, squinting under the dim torchlight.

"No," she said softly.

Beatrice, however, sucked in a sharp breath.

"That’s from the House of Kessel," she murmured. "A once-silent ally of Petra. Or so we thought."

Lucien’s expression turned harder.

Samuel added, "It looks like they’re on the move again. And this man... he confessed he was sent to observe troop numbers stationed here."

Lucien’s voice dropped. "They’re testing our defenses."

Liora’s eyes narrowed. "Will this reach Alden?"

Lucien nodded slowly. "It must. But we can’t send word through the usual channels. Not yet."

He looked at Liora then, the weight of something unspoken behind his stare. As if he was about to ask more of her but stopped.

Instead, he turned to Rowan. "Increase patrol around the estate. No one enters or leaves unless cleared by you or Samuel."

"And him?" Samuel tilted his chin toward the spy.

Lucien’s jaw clenched. "Let him rot for a day. Then we talk again."

Later that evening, Liora sat in her chambers again, heart pounding.

She had seen something tonight, not just another enemy, not just another political scheme.

She had seen Lucien take charge with clarity, with cold decisiveness, but beneath that... she saw restraint.

He had looked at her as if weighing whether to trust her with more.

And in that moment, she had felt it, not fear, not affection... but a beginning.

Just a beginning.

The morning at Lucien’s estate began with a chill. The news of the captured spy had spread among the guards, though the details remained guarded. Still, whispers trickled through the halls like smoke through cracks.

Liora was summoned early to assist the physician with an injured visitor, someone found near the outskirts with a wounded leg. She hurried to the guest wing,, where she found Theo sitting quietly, bandages wrapped around his thigh.

"You again?" she asked, a faint smirk touching her lips. "You’re determined to keep me on duty."

Theo looked up, and for once, he didn’t grin. His eyes were serious. "You saved me once before. Maybe I’m becoming too used to it."

She sat beside him, checking the wrappings. "You’ll owe me more than thanks at this rate."

"I’m good at paying debts," Theo said softly, watching her hands.

The moment lingered, almost too long. Beatrice, standing silently near the door, cleared her throat.

"Lady Liora, Lord Lucien has asked you to meet him in the war room."

Liora stood. "Understood."

As she left, Theo’s eyes followed her, and Beatrice caught it.

In the war room, the table was cleared of maps and instead held letters, dozens of them, most unopened.

Lucien stood by the window, one hand resting on the frame.

"You called for me, Master Lucien?"

He didn’t turn right away.

"You were right," he finally said. "About that man from last night."

Liora stepped closer. "In what way?"

"He wasn’t just a spy. He was a distraction."

She tilted her head.

Lucien turned toward her now, blue eyes sharp. "Two convoys passed through our northern ridge while we were focused on the southern side. Empty carts in both. I want to know what they were carrying before and what they’re returning with."

Liora nodded. "How can I help?"

He stepped closer, slowly. "You’re sharp. You listen when no one thinks you’re listening. That’s more useful than any sword in this estate."

A flicker of something passed through Liora’s expression...was that... pride?

Lucien added, "Take Beatrice with you. Go through the physician’s records. Anyone who had sudden injuries near the time the convoys came through. Something doesn’t add up."

Liora hesitated before answering. "You trust me with this?"

Lucien’s gaze didn’t waver. "If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have spoken of this."

He turned away again, but his voice dropped to a softer tone. "Also... stay away from that man, Theo. For now."

That caught her off guard.

"Why?"

"No reason," Lucien said flatly. "Just a suggestion."

But she didn’t believe that for a second.

The physician’s ledger was thick with fading ink and rushed handwriting, but Liora flipped through it with practiced eyes. Beatrice sat across from her, unusually quiet.

"This one," Liora pointed to an entry. "A stable boy. Burnt hands. Claimed it was a forge accident. But he’s not even assigned near the blacksmith quarters."

Beatrice squinted. "And this..." she tapped the next line, "...a cook with a cracked rib. He said he fell carrying flour sacks. No notes about weight, witnesses, or re-check."

"Both on the same date as the northern convoy," Liora muttered.

"Too many coincidences," Beatrice murmured, then after a pause, added, "Lucien was right to suspect something."

Liora looked up at her. "That’s rare praise coming from you."

Beatrice didn’t smile, but her voice was softer. "I may be old, not blind. He’s been different since you arrived. Less of a ghost, more of a flame."

Liora’s eyes dropped. "I don’t know if that’s a compliment."

"It’s not. It’s a warning." Beatrice stood, her tone returned to firm. "Come. We’re not done yet.

A cold breeze ran through the forest bordering the estate’s north as Liora and Beatrice trailed the path left by the convoys. Rowan had sent two guards ahead, and they returned with hurried steps.

"There’s a small clearing ahead. Burnt crates," one of them said. "Ash everywhere. But no signs of what was inside."

When they arrived, Liora’s breath caught. The air smelled of smoke and something strange... a hint of medicine. One of the crates still had charred markings..."R.87" was etched into its side.

Beatrice knelt, picking at the edge of a blackened scrap. "This cloth... belongs to the royal hospital stock."

Liora’s eyes widened. "The capital?"

Beatrice nodded. "Yes. These were not supplies going into Petra. These were stolen from Alden’s court."

"And they destroyed the evidence here," Liora whispered.

But it wasn’t just supplies. Hidden beneath one of the crates was a rusted dagger. The crest on it, a phoenix rising from a twisted crown was unfamiliar to her.

Beatrice’s voice turned grim. "That’s not ours. That’s Kessel’s forgotten mark."

Liora looked at her, frowning. "Didn’t Kessel fall years ago?"

"Yes," Beatrice said quietly. "But some embers never die."

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