Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 151: The prince’s watch

Chapter 151: The prince’s watch

The estate was hushed under the weight of midnight. Moonlight filtered through tall glass panels of the abandoned greenhouse, turning the air silver and still. Dusty vines clung to rusted frames, long-dead herbs crunched beneath quiet steps. Liora walked slowly, clutching the note tighter in her fingers as she entered.

The place smelled of damp earth and faded lavender. A cold breeze drifted through the broken panes as she stepped deeper inside, eyes scanning the empty corners.

A shadow stirred near the far edge.

She halted. "Who’s there?"

No answer.

Liora swallowed. "You sent this, didn’t you?" she lifted the note slightly. "You asked me to come."

Silence again.

Then the figure stepped forward cautiously. It was a man, cloaked, hood low over his face. But in the dimness, she caught a glimpse of a scar trailing beneath his eye.

"I came because you said I could trust no one," Liora said, keeping her voice steady. "So speak quickly. Who are you?"

The man hesitated. Then, in a low voice, he answered, "You knew someone named Callum Miral."

Liora’s heart skipped. "Callum...? That was my uncle...my mother’s brother. He disappeared when I was ten."

The man looked up fully now. His eyes were tired, and his voice more urgent. "He didn’t disappear. He was executed. Silently. No trial, no record."

"What?"

"And it was ordered from the palace. By someone still in power today."

Liora stepped back. "That can’t be true. He was...he worked in the inner library. He wasn’t..."

"He found something he wasn’t meant to read," the man interrupted. "About the royal archives. About the first king’s broken treaty with Petra. A cover-up that could dismantle Alden’s rule if it ever came out."

Liora gripped the edge of a broken table. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because your mother helped him preserve what he found," the man said. "And someone...someone in your own family...betrayed them both."

It felt like her breath was pulled from her chest.

The man continued, "You’re not safe here, not even under the prince’s watch. That’s why Queen Dowager sent you. Not just to spy. Not just to breed a puppet. But to bury the Miral legacy."

He tossed her a folded map. "You’ll find what he hid. If you want to know why your parents died... start there."

Before Liora could ask more, the man vanished into the dark vines, melting into the shadows like a ghost. She didn’t chase. Her legs couldn’t move.

She stared at the map. Her uncle. Her mother. The secrets they had died for.

A sudden voice broke her stupor.

"Liora?" Lucien’s voice called from outside the greenhouse.

She turned sharply, stuffing the map into her sleeve just as Lucien pushed the door open, his silhouette framed by the moonlight.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, stepping forward, eyes narrowing slightly.

Liora forced a breath, gripping the edge of the old table behind her to stay steady.

"Just... clearing my head."

Lucien didn’t press. But his eyes lingered longer than usual on her face.

Something had changed and he could sense it.

Lucien’s boots crunched softly against the gravel path as he walked beside Liora back toward the estate. He hadn’t asked more questions not yet but his silence wasn’t comforting. It was watchful.

"You don’t usually walk this late," he finally said, his tone light, but eyes sharp on her profile.

Liora kept her gaze ahead. "Sleep’s been... difficult."

Lucien didn’t speak again for a moment. Then, "Next time you decide to wander the estate under moonlight, take someone with you. Anything could happen."

"Like being followed?" she asked, stopping in her steps to meet his gaze. It wasn’t meant as a challenge, but it landed like one.

Lucien’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. "You think I followed you?"

"I think you’re always watching," she replied softly.

There was no denial.

They stood there for a few seconds, the distance between them charged, not just with unspoken truths but with unasked questions. And then Lucien stepped closer.

"You’re not the same girl they sent here," he said under his breath. "What happened tonight?"

"I don’t owe you every truth I learn," Liora said, her voice trembling slightly but holding. "You’ve never trusted me. Why should I trust you with what I know?"

Lucien nodded once, almost approvingly. "Because not everyone in this estate is on your side. And if I wanted to betray you, I would’ve done it already."

He didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and continued toward the estate, his coat catching the breeze behind him.

And Liora was left standing on the path, heart pounding.

The next morning, the air in the estate was different. Tighter.

Court summons had arrived.

Alden had called for an urgent private council not with Lucien, but with the Inner Table of Six. Ministers, generals, and advisors. Whispers spread quickly: tensions with Petra had escalated again. Another envoy detained. A southern border village raided by unidentified riders.

In the drawing room, Beatrice stood near the window, watching the yard where soldiers moved in formation. Beside her, Minister Caldus a heavyset man with a severe bald head and sharper words murmured, "I warned His Majesty about Lucien’s lack of cooperation. He’s become too independent."

Beatrice didn’t answer. She merely sipped her tea.

"I’ve heard rumors of strange visitors at the estate," Caldus continued. "Messages coming in late. Maps being requested from old records."

Beatrice’s eyes flicked to him. "Rumors are often distractions, Minister."

"Not when they lead to fire." Caldus set down his cup. "The boy’s estate is too quiet. And silence breeds rebellion."

Beatrice gave him a thin smile. "Lucien is many things. But a rebel?" She stepped away from the window. "He’s far more patient than we give him credit for. And far more dangerous when underestimated."

Back in her chambers, Liora unrolled the map again. There, marked faintly near the bottom corner, was a symbol she recognized from childhood her mother’s seal. A forgotten outpost near the woods, on the edge of Miral land.

She whispered, "So that’s where you left it..."

Just then, a knock came to her door.

Maren peeked in. "Sorry! I brought the new patient files. Oh...and also, Master Lucien sent a note. He says you’re to accompany him tomorrow. To Petra’s border."

Liora blinked. "What?"

"He didn’t say why." Maren shrugged. "But he seemed very... focused."

As Maren left, Liora folded the map back.

If the truth was buried near the border, then perhaps fate was aligning her steps already.

But she wondered did Lucien know what she was looking for?

Or was he about to find out?

Lucien’s eyes remained on her, calm but calculating.

"You’ve been tense lately," he said, his voice low, unreadable. "Even more than usual."

Liora kept her face steady, her hand resting against the moss-covered table. "Perhaps it’s the air. Or the pressure of pretending I belong."

Lucien tilted his head slightly. "You never pretended." He took a few steps closer, the faint scent of parchment and steel following him. "You walk like someone preparing for a fall."

"I was raised that way," she replied, not meeting his gaze.

There was a pause. A long, stretched moment where Lucien watched her, as if piecing together the broken strands he hadn’t noticed before. He didn’t press further not yet.

"Return to your room," he finally said. "It’s not safe for you to wander alone."

Liora turned to leave. She walked quickly this time, her thoughts racing louder than her footsteps. As she reached the corridor, she caught a glimpse of Rowan waiting further down, arms crossed.

"Is he tailing me now?" she asked softly as she approached him.

Rowan didn’t flinch. "I was sent to ensure you return safely. That’s all."

Liora stared at him, then nodded and walked ahead. She wasn’t surprised. After what just happened, she wouldn’t have trusted herself either.

Back in her chamber, Liora closed the door and bolted it. Only then did she sit by the hearth, lighting a taper and unfolding the old map the man had handed her.

The parchment was aged, the ink faded, but familiar.

She traced a marked path leading to a symbol she’d seen once in her childhood: a broken mirror above a stream.

It wasn’t far from the capital. But it was located past the old military ruins,lands now restricted by royal decree.

Her mother once told her, "Your truth will never arrive politely. You’ll have to dig it from the hands that buried it."

And now, she had the shovel.

But before she could plan, a soft knock came at her door.

Startled, she quickly folded the map and hid it under the base of the candleholder.

"Who is it?" she called, her voice firm.

A muffled voice answered, "Beatrice."

Liora opened the door cautiously. The older woman stepped in, holding a bowl of steaming herbal tonic.

"You missed your evening tea again," Beatrice said, placing the bowl down. "And lately, you’ve been looking... haunted."

Liora smiled weakly. "I’ve always looked that way, haven’t I?"

Beatrice looked at her long and hard. "No. This is different."

There was something softer in Beatrice’s eyes tonight, as if she wasn’t here on anyone’s orders. Just... concerned.

"Thank you," Liora whispered.

Beatrice turned to leave, then paused. "Your uncle Callum... he was a kind man. My brother worked with him. Before the silence."

Liora’s heart stilled.

But before she could ask more, Beatrice slipped out quietly, leaving behind a thousand unspoken things.

And a strange glint of something else.

Maybe not all eyes in this estate were watching her for the queen.

Some were watching for the truth.

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