Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 141: Bruneil’s seal

Chapter 141: Bruneil’s seal

The night was unusually quiet. A soft breeze rustled the ivy trailing down the estate’s stone walls. The stars were clear, scattered across the dark sky like silver grains. Liora stood by the edge of the balcony, arms resting gently on the cool marble railing. Her eyes were on the moon, but her thoughts were far from the sky.

Lucien stepped out from the shadows of the corridor, his coat half-unbuttoned, expression unreadable. He hadn’t meant to find her here, but now that he had, he didn’t retreat.

"You can’t sleep?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual almost human.

Liora turned, startled for a moment. "I didn’t hear you, Master."

He raised a brow slightly at the title but said nothing about it. Instead, he walked to stand beside her, though he kept a respectable distance.

"You always come here at night?" he asked.

She nodded. "The silence... helps."

Lucien looked at her profile under the moonlight. "Even when silence holds too many thoughts?"

Liora glanced at him, curious. He rarely said things like that never, actually.

"It’s better than voices that lie," she replied, soft but sharp. "Silence may echo, but at least it doesn’t deceive."

Lucien leaned on the railing beside her. "You think I’m lying to you?"

"I think you wear too many masks," she said, meeting his eyes. "Sometimes I don’t know which one is speaking."

He was quiet for a long moment. Then, "I told you once I don’t know what to think of you. That hasn’t changed. But I’m trying."

Liora turned fully toward him now. "Why?"

Lucien looked at her, then down at his hands. "Because I don’t know why I care if Theo stands too close to you."

The air between them grew heavy.

"You have no right to," she whispered, her voice trembling only slightly.

"I know," he replied.

A long pause.

"I just want to know who you really are," Lucien finally said. "Not what they told me. Not what the palace believes. You."

Liora looked away, the moonlight tracing the curve of her cheek. "I don’t know if I have that answer yet."

Lucien gave the faintest nod. "Then we’ll wait. Together."

He didn’t touch her. He didn’t order her. He simply stood there, beside her, watching the stars.

And for the first time... the silence between them wasn’t heavy.

It was calm.

The calm didn’t last long.

A knock shattered the stillness of the night. Not loud controlled, polite even but urgent in its rhythm. Lucien straightened, his eyes narrowing as Rowan’s voice came through the hallway.

"Master Lucien, pardon the hour. A sealed message has arrived. From the royal court."

Liora stepped back, instinctively. Anything that came sealed from the court never brought peace.

Lucien moved away from the railing and opened the balcony door fully. "Come in."

Rowan entered swiftly, holding out a black envelope marked with the royal seal....a silver phoenix etched into wax.

Lucien took it with a steady hand. "When did it arrive?"

"Just now. From the king’s fastest envoy."

Lucien broke the seal, eyes scanning the page. Liora watched his face shift first unreadable, then faintly grim.

"What is it?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Lucien handed the parchment to Rowan without replying, his jaw tightening.

Rowan read it aloud, voice low:

"To Prince Lucien Blackthorne....,

You are hereby summoned to attend an emergency council at the High Court, alongside General Calder and Minister Roysten. A threat has emerged in the southern borders of Valcetta. You are to bring forth the military plans from the Petra region for immediate review. .... By Order of His Majesty King Alden."

Liora stepped forward. "What threat?"

Lucien glanced at her, then back at Rowan. "The southern region is where the trade routes cross with Bruneil."

"The same Bruneil that once tried to claim Liora’s town?" Rowan said sharply.

Lucien’s eyes flickered to Liora again. "Yes. If they’re back, this isn’t a coincidence."

Rowan looked grim. "And Minister Roysten is involved?"

"He’s the same man who lobbied for reduced guard at those borders last winter," Lucien replied, slipping into a commanding tone. "This reeks of internal manipulation."

Liora clenched her fists. "What does this mean for Petra?"

"It means," Lucien said, walking toward the war table in his study, "that Petra may no longer be the edge of a kingdom. It might become the first battlefield."

He turned back to Rowan. "Wake up, Samuel. Have him ride to the garrison and prepare movement orders. And get the map detailing the Petra-Bruneil trade route."

Rowan nodded and rushed out.

Liora, still by the balcony, felt the air shift around her again this time not with uncertainty, but war.

Lucien looked at her, then, slower this time. "And you...stay close. I don’t trust anyone in this estate right now, especially with what’s coming."

She nodded slowly, swallowing her own fears. "Understood."

As Lucien returned to the maps, spreading out the parchment and marking borders, a shadow flickered past the window.

In a room across the estate, a spy tucked a scroll into a black cloak.

Brunel had already moved first.

The spy moved swiftly through the narrow servant corridors, careful to avoid torchlight and creaking floorboards. He wore the dark livery of the estate’s lower workers, a cook’s assistant, perhaps, or a stable hand, someone no one paid much attention to. But his steps were calculated, his destination clear.

In his hand, the sealed scroll bore not just information, but weight, the kind that could shift loyalties, collapse strategies, and unravel kingdoms.

Outside the estate, tethered to the edge of the forest, a black horse waited without a sound. The spy mounted it without hesitation and rode into the night, vanishing into the trees. His next stop would be Roysten’s estate or someone even higher, depending on who truly pulled the strings behind Bruneil’s interest in Petra.

Back in the war room, Lucien stood alone now, the table before him a sea of ink, names, and borders.

He stared at Petra’s borders again. It wasn’t just a trade route anymore. Not after what Liora had said in passing about her childhood town and the way Bruneil forces had once lingered nearby. That wasn’t a coincidence; it was a test. A probing move to see how much the kingdom would ignore.

He heard a soft knock. It was Liora. She stood by the door, hesitant, a parchment in hand.

"I found this in one of Beatrice’s old medical logs," she said. "It’s a report on fevers near the southern towns. But see this..." she pointed, "the dates match exactly with Bruneil’s last border movement."

Lucien took the paper, brow furrowed. "They tested poison on our border towns?"

"Or plague," Liora murmured. "It wouldn’t be the first time."

Lucien folded the parchment slowly. "Keep this between us."

She nodded, and for a moment, the quiet hung between them again, tense but not cold.

"You trust me now?" she asked, not with defiance, but caution.

Lucien didn’t look at her immediately. Instead, he said quietly, "I trust what I see. And what I’ve seen of you hasn’t disappointed me yet."

Liora’s lips parted, but she said nothing. Her heart was louder than her thoughts.

The moment broke as Rowan entered again, a scroll in hand.

"The garrison is preparing as we speak. Samuel left to oversee the southern scouts. But there’s more, Roysten’s men were spotted near the old watchtower two nights ago. No patrols were ordered there."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. "Then it’s confirmed. Roysten is moving with Bruneil."

Rowan nodded. "And worse, rumor is, he’s pushing for Alden to name a new border commander."

Lucien’s voice was steel. "Over my corpse."

"And mine," Rowan added.

Lucien stepped back toward the map, pointing. "We ride at dawn. I’ll present Petra’s defense plans at court. If they push back, we’ll know exactly where the poison is."

"And Liora?" Rowan asked, glancing at her.

"She stays here. But guarded. I want Beatrice to report anything odd."

Liora didn’t protest. She knew the stakes were higher now, far beyond her own fate.

The storm was coming, and for the first time, she didn’t feel entirely powerless.

The court hall was colder than usual that morning, as if the tension brewing behind velvet drapes had seeped into the very stones. The nobles sat along the sides of the throne chamber, eyes wary, whispers hushed.

King Alden sat upon the high chair, his expression unreadable. His advisors flanked him, some leaning in to murmur, others sitting back, watching. Among them, Duke Roysten stood at ease, fingers drumming the handle of his cane, a sly smile playing beneath his grey mustache.

Lucien entered with Rowan by his side, dressed not in princely robes but in a travel-stained coat and black gloves. The dark leather made his presence more imposing, less ceremonial. Murmurs sparked across the rows.

"He looks like a war general," one whispered.

"He always did," another replied.

Lucien bowed to the king, curt and practiced. "Your Majesty."

Alden gave a nod in return. "Prince Lucien. I hear you’ve returned with urgency."

"I bring matters of the border, Majesty. And proof of Roysten’s men trespassing near the Petra line. Without royal command."

The court shifted uneasily.

Roysten chuckled, soft but sharp. "Surely the prince misunderstood. Those men were scouts sent to inspect the integrity of the southern watchtower, nothing more."

"And yet they carried Bruneil coin," Lucien responded, tossing a pouch forward. It landed with a dull clink.