Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 148: Lotus Ash

Chapter 148: Lotus Ash

By evening, the estate had shifted into quiet tension.

Lucien had departed with Samuel under the cover of dusk. No grand sendoff, no torches lit in the courtyard. Just two horses disappearing beyond the western ridge, with Beatrice watching from the upper gallery, her face shadowed by the lantern in her hand.

Inside, Liora walked the hallways with her shawl draped tightly around her shoulders. Every sound echoed more than it should have, a creaking floorboard, a servant’s rushed steps, a door shutting too softly.

She paused at the corner where the east wing met the garden hall. This part of the estate had grown oddly silent since Lucien left. Tessa had gone missing from her duties today, and Rowan hadn’t returned yet from the outer town.

Liora crossed through the herbal corridor where Beatrice usually kept her potions and salves. But the room was half-empty.

Something felt off.

As she stepped in to inspect, her hand hovered near one of the locked drawers. Beatrice always kept it sealed, it held the powdered letters and instructions from the capital.

The lock was open.

Liora hesitated. She looked around. No one.

With a quick breath, she pulled the drawer open ,only to find a rolled parchment with the seal of House Valcour.

Her heart raced., Queen Dowager Lilian’s seal.

She unrolled the note just slightly. It wasn’t in code. It was a direct order.

"Proceed with quiet observation. Should the girl prove of no use or blood, prepare her dismissal before Lucien returns. Use the tincture if necessary."

Liora’s fingers tightened. Dismissal? Tincture?

Her eyes went to the shelf.

Beatrice’s tinctures were neatly aligned, but one was missing.

Suddenly, behind her, the door clicked.

Beatrice stood at the threshold, eyes sharp but expression calm.

"You shouldn’t be in here, dear," the older woman said softly, stepping in with her hands behind her back.

Liora quickly closed the drawer. "I was just looking for a pain salve."

Beatrice smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "No need to go through my things, I would have brought it to you myself."

"I had a headache. It’s gone now." Liora stepped back.

Beatrice walked over to the drawer and, with deliberate care, closed it fully and locked it again. "Let me give you something warm for the nerves," she said. "It must be difficult being trusted with the house in Lucien’s absence."

"I can manage," Liora answered, her voice steady now.

Beatrice tilted her head. "I’m sure you believe so."

As the older woman stepped past her, Liora turned to the door and walked quickly out. Her pulse was drumming in her ears.

She would not drink anything tonight.

Not from Beatrice. Not from anyone.

That night, Liora lay wide awake on her bed, her shawl still clutched tightly around her. The oil lamp flickered low, casting long shadows on the wooden walls of the chamber. Every creak and whisper of wind outside made her flinch.

She hadn’t touched the tea Beatrice left.

Instead, she’d poured it down the drain behind the bathhouse when no one was watching.

Her fingers were still trembling from what she read earlier.

"Dismissal... tincture..."

Was that how they removed people here? Quietly, without scene or scandal?

She didn’t know what exactly the tincture was meant for, to make her ill, to weaken her mind, or worse, but the warning was enough. She had never felt more like a pawn than now.

Liora curled on her side, eyes wide open. She needed allies. Someone, anyone who didn’t report to Queen Dowager Lilian.

Rowan?

Maybe. But Rowan served Lucien, and Lucien was gone.

She thought of Samuel, but he too had left.

A gentle knock tapped on the door.

Liora sat up, alarm flashing through her.

"Who is it?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"It’s me," said a girl’s voice, young, nervous.

She recognized the accent.

It was Mira, the new clumsy maid who had arrived just two days ago. The one who had spilled honey water on Beatrice’s sleeve this morning.

Liora quickly rose and unlatched the door.

Mira stepped inside, holding a cloth pouch and looking around as if someone might jump out at them.

"You shouldn’t open the door at night," Mira whispered.

Liora frowned. "Then why are you here?"

Mira clutched the pouch. "Because I saw what Beatrice gave you. That wasn’t for headaches."

Her heart nearly stopped.

"What do you mean?"

"I helped her make it in the cellar two days ago. I wasn’t supposed to see the label, but I peeked. It’s called ’Lotus Ash.’ Makes you sleep deeper and forget. A little too much and..." Mira cut herself off.

Liora swallowed hard.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.

Mira looked around again. "Because I don’t like the way they talk about you when you leave the room. They don’t think anyone listens, but I do. And you helped Cecelia, and... I think Lord Lucien trusts you more than them."

Liora blinked at her. This girl, barely seventeen, shivering in her slippers, might be the only true ally she had inside the estate.

She touched Mira’s arm. "Thank you."

"I’ll keep listening," Mira said. "If I hear anything, I’ll tell you."

"Be careful," Liora warned.

Mira nodded, turned, and slipped away into the hallway.

Liora closed the door gently.

Maybe she wasn’t entirely alone after all.

The next morning arrived far too soon.

Liora barely felt the sun’s warmth through the thin curtains. Her sleep had been fractured, haunted by shadows in her thoughts and dreams filled with words like Lotus Ash, tincture, and removal. She washed her face briskly, braided her hair without much care, and tied her shawl tighter than usual.

She stepped out of her chamber cautiously.

Servants moved about as usual, and the estate hummed with its subtle rhythm. But there was an unspoken tension in the air, something quiet, something heavy.

Down the corridor, she caught a glimpse of Beatrice speaking with one of the older stewards. The woman looked calm, even polite, but Liora’s skin crawled.

Beatrice’s eyes flicked toward her briefly, then away, like she didn’t matter.

But Liora knew better now.

She walked to the side garden where a few medicinal herbs were growing. Her fingers brushed against the leaves of the chamomile and mint, pretending to inspect them while her thoughts scattered.

She needed a plan.

And more importantly, she needed to know who else had their hands dipped in this quiet scheme.

As she turned to go, a voice spoke.

"You’re up early, Lady Miral."

Liora paused. It was a man’s voice , it was low, unfamiliar.

She turned to find a stranger standing near the path, a soft coat draped over his shoulders, dark curls falling into his eyes. His smile was disarming, casual, and polite.

He bowed slightly.

"I’m Caldrin Vale," he said. "Physician. I was told I’d find the assistant healer here."

Liora straightened. "That would be me."

"Good. Lord Lucien summoned me here from Petra, said there were a few delicate cases and I might be of help." Caldrin tilted his head slightly. "But I sense I may have interrupted something."

Liora offered a guarded smile. "No. Just tending the garden."

He nodded. "Herbs speak more truth than people, sometimes."

She blinked. That was something her grandmother used to say.

There was something oddly sincere about him yet, she didn’t let her guard down.

"Would you care to walk me through the apothecary chambers, Lady Miral?"

"I prefer Liora," she replied, brushing her palms on her skirt. "And yes, I can show you."

As they walked back toward the healing rooms, Mira peeked from behind a pillar, eyes wide.

The maid hurried off ,almost too quickly.

Back inside, from the shadows of the hallway, Beatrice watched the scene unfold.

Her lips thinned. She didn’t like this.

First, the girl refused the tincture. Now a new man appeared, one with easy charm and Lord Lucien’s approval?

Beatrice turned on her heel.

She needed to write to the Queen Dowager, or better yet, speak to Minister Caelan herself.

Things were shifting far too quickly in this quiet estate. And she didn’t like when pawns moved without permission.

By midday, the skies above the estate were brushed with pale gold, yet inside the apothecary chamber, a dim stillness lingered.

Liora stood beside a set of cabinets, pointing out the organization system, pain relief herbs in the left drawers, wound salves on the top shelves, and dried petals sealed in glass jars on the far end. Caldrin listened with the attentiveness of a man used to quiet observation. He made no unnecessary comments, asked pointed but respectful questions, and even made her laugh once with a dry remark about the way Petra’s healers insisted on labeling mint as "Imperial Herb No. 4."

For the first time in weeks, Liora did not feel like she had to justify herself.

She was explaining, not defending.

"Most of the root stocks here are old," she added. "We’ve had to preserve the stronger ones. Lord Lucien doesn’t favor bringing ingredients in too frequently from outside, especially not after the last supply was tampered with."

"Wise of him," Caldrin said. "Suspicious times call for careful tongues and sharper instincts."

Liora’s eyes flickered toward him.

"You talk like a man who knows what poison tastes like."

Caldrin chuckled under his breath, "I talk like a man who’s read too many royal reports."

He paused at a shelf, picking up a worn label written in her handwriting.

"You’re meticulous," he said.

"I try to be."

She turned away from the warmth of that compliment and stepped toward the work table. But Caldrin’s words lingered longer than they should have. It unsettled her in a way that wasn’t quite unpleasant.

Just then, footsteps echoed faintly from the corridor outside.

Lucien stood by the archway.

His eyes swept the room once and locked onto Liora. The corner of his mouth was set, not quite frowning, not smiling either. But she could feel the intensity behind it.

Liora instinctively stepped away from Caldrin’s side.

"Master Lucien," she said with a light bow.

Caldrin turned and nodded respectfully. "My lord. Your assistant was just showing me the chambers. You’ve kept the old storage system intact, I see."