Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 146: You my responsibility

Chapter 146: You my responsibility

"And not by bandits," Lucien replied. "They were taken using royal writs. Faked ones. With my signature forged."

Liora’s jaw tightened.

"There’s a pattern," Rowan added, stepping forward. "These girls aren’t being taken randomly. Every one of them, orphans, weak family connections, or simply... unseen."

Samuel laid another file in front of her. "Do you know the name Serana Delve?"

Liora paused. "She was a healer. I met her once during a gathering outside my town. Why?"

"She’s missing," Samuel said. "Three months now."

Lucien looked at Liora directly. "We need someone they wouldn’t suspect. Someone who can ask questions, listen to whispers, and enter places they’d never allow me into."

Liora met his gaze. "And you think that person is me."

Lucien didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

"I want the truth too," she said after a beat. "About the rings. About my aunt. About why my name was the one handed to the queen dowager."

Lucien’s tone turned firmer, but still calm. "Then we’ll trade truth for truth."

She nodded once. "What do you want me to do?"

Rowan pulled out a marked map. "There’s a small outpost estate called Glovencross. A lord named Averin has been supporting border defenses. But he also receives unknown carriages, usually at night."

"And?" Liora asked.

"There’s a girl there. Named Ivelle. She’s barely older than Elira. We think she might be next," Rowan said.

Lucien stepped forward. "You’ll go as a visiting aide. Watch her. Watch the outpost. Ask nothing. Just observe. The moment something feels wrong, you report it."

"And if they suspect me?" she asked.

Lucien’s eyes held hers. "Then you do what you did with me: lie until they believe it’s the truth."

There was a flicker of something between them. Familiarity. Tension. Unspoken trust, not yet trust.

"I’ll go," she said quietly.

Lucien nodded once, stepping closer. "And, Liora..."

"Yes?"

"This time... you’ll have backup."

She turned to see a shadow step into the room. A tall man, clean-shaven, with striking eyes and a soft smile.

"This is Thorne," Lucien said. "A soldier, healer, and someone very good at not dying."

Thorne bowed with a wink. "I’m also great at pretending to be a lovesick guard. Just in case."

Liora blinked. "Pretending?"

Lucien turned away before she could catch his expression.

The journey to Glovencross wasn’t long, but it was cloaked in secrecy.

Lucien had insisted they travel under forged identities, Liora as a young herbalist seeking employment and Thorne as her protective cousin, a soldier-turned-steward. The carriage they rode in bore no crest, only plain iron hinges and faded wood.

Thorne rode beside her inside, annoyingly cheerful. He swung a pendant between his fingers as they crossed the wooded roads, humming softly.

Liora finally asked, "What exactly is your role in this? You’re not just a soldier, are you?"

Thorne grinned, leaning slightly closer. "I do what I’m told. And right now, Lucien thinks you’re important. That makes you my responsibility."

Liora blinked. "Why would he think I’m important?"

Thorne’s grin faded into something softer. "Because for the first time in years, the prince looked at someone like they mattered."

Liora glanced out the window, heart slightly unsettled. It wasn’t something she wanted to think about. Not when everything still felt like a performance.

Back in the capital, news of Lucien’s departure reached the Queen Dowager.

Lilian stood before the temple’s private altar, her fingers brushing against the candlestick. Beatrice waited silently behind her, arms folded.

"He moves faster than expected," Lilian murmured. "And not alone. Did you confirm she went with him?"

Beatrice nodded, but her tone was strained. "Liora left under a false name. With a man—young, trained. I have a feeling this is not just reconnaissance."

Lilian turned slightly, her eyes colder than ever. "Then watch them. I want letters from Glovencross. Regularly."

Beatrice hesitated. "And if they’re intercepted?"

Lilian stepped closer. "Then make sure they aren’t. If Lucien uncovers the truth before I set the stage, everything will fall apart."

"Do you still wish to go through with the plan?" Beatrice asked.

Lilian’s gaze sharpened. "If I can no longer control my son, then I will control the throne. Even if it means marrying off his enemies to his allies."

At Glovencross, Lord Averin welcomed them with barely a glance. His estate was clean, silent, and cold in its demeanor. The servants were quiet. The guards are excessive.

Liora noticed it first. The locked wings. The separate courtyard no one entered. The watchtower always had a light on, even at midnight.

She passed by the girl Ivelle on her second day, faint freckles, brown curls, no visible fear.

But the way the girl looked at Liora was strange. Calculated.

"She knows something," Liora whispered to Thorne that night.

He nodded. "So do I."

"What?"

"The guards’ insignia. They bear a different crest than Lord Averin’s. They’re not from here."

Liora’s heart skipped. "Then who sent them?"

Thorne’s smile faded. "That’s what we’re here to find out."

Meanwhile, back in the capital, a new face stepped into the court, it was a messenger from the northern borders bearing a sealed scroll and a blood-stained cloak. He was brought directly to King Alden.

Lucien’s name was written at the top of the scroll.

And so, another web began to weave.

Alden’s grip tightened around the blood-stained scroll.

He had dismissed the court early, leaving only a few trusted ministers and guards in the chamber. The hall, with its tall marble columns and echoes of silence, felt colder than usual.

"Who delivered this?" Alden asked, his voice sharp.

"An envoy from the border. He collapsed at the gates," one of the guards answered. "He’s being treated in the infirmary, but... he may not last the night."

Alden opened the scroll. The script was written in a familiar hand, Lucien’s.

"If this reaches you, then know that Petra is compromised. There are whispers in Glovencross. Not all lords wear their loyalty plainly. I intend to stay until I know who funds the unrest."

No seal. No royal symbols. Just Lucien’s name and a coded mark that only Alden would recognize.

"What does it say?" asked Minister Caelus, the lean older man who rarely left Alden’s side.

Alden didn’t answer directly. Instead, he folded the scroll and handed it to him.

"We are being watched," Alden said. "And Lucien may be walking into a trap."

In Glovencross, Liora stood near the herb garden, brushing her hands through drying sage. It was peaceful here unnaturally so.

She turned slightly as footsteps approached.

"Ivelle," she greeted with a soft smile.

The younger girl stopped in her tracks, nearly dropping the basket of bandages she was holding.

"I didn’t mean to startle you," Liora added, stepping closer. "Do you need help?"

Ivelle hesitated. "You... shouldn’t be here. Not in this part of the estate."

Liora raised a brow. "Why?"

Ivelle looked around before whispering, "Some things are locked for a reason. Lord Averin doesn’t like guests... wandering."

Before Liora could ask more, Ivelle stepped back, nearly tripping on her own feet. She muttered an apology and fled down the path, basket swinging.

Liora watched her disappear behind the archway.

She would have followed, if not for the voice behind her.

"Making friends?" Lucien asked, his tone unreadable.

Liora turned. "Just being polite."

Lucien stepped closer, not dressed in royal garb but in simple traveling leathers. He looked more like the soldier she’d imagined him to be, not a prince.

"Did she say something?" he asked.

"She’s scared," Liora said. "Something’s wrong here."

Lucien’s gaze flicked to the estate walls. "There’s more than just fear here, Liora. There are secrets buried so deep, the trees stopped whispering them."

He didn’t explain further. Instead, he extended a small folded parchment toward her.

"What’s this?"

"A list of names," he said. "People who visited this estate in the last year. One of them is dead. One of them betrayed me. I need to know which is which."

Liora blinked, surprised. "You’re trusting me with this?"

Lucien shrugged. "You wanted to help."

She took it slowly. Her fingers brushed his.

And for a flicker of a moment, something passed between them not affection, but a fragile thread of trust.

Then it snapped, as the sound of a horn echoed through the estate walls.

Someone had arrived, uninvited.

The skies over Glovencross hung heavy with the weight of brewing tension. The estate had fallen unusually silent after the message reached Alden, and the injured envoy’s condition was yet to stabilize. Meanwhile, within Lucien’s estate walls, a new arrival was causing murmurs among the guards.

Samuel leaned near Rowan just outside the west wing corridor, his voice low. "That woman... the one who arrived at the southern gate, she bears no seal, no known insignia."

Rowan’s brows furrowed. "Alone?"

Samuel nodded. "And she asked for Lord Lucien. Not as a noble would. Not as a courtier. It was... strange."

Inside, Lucien stood in front of the hearth, flames dancing against the shadows on his face. Liora sat nearby, reading through the report. Lucien had allowed her to glimpse something about marked crates and vanished villagers near Glovencross borders. Her brows were knitted in thought.