Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 43: Saw him after long time

Chapter 43: Saw him after long time

"You’re both terrible liars," Edgar said finally. His voice wasn’t loud. "If Lucien had stayed within these walls as he was ordered, there would be no fight, no injury, no need for secrecy. and god, you are not even good at that."

Rowan clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but at Edgar, while Samuel shifted on his feet, his fingers twitching slightly. They weren’t fools but right now they have to keep their mouths shut.

Edgar leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "I don’t need you to tell me where he went. I already know he left." He let those words settle before continuing, his tone colder now. "But you should be worried about what happens next. Because if I know, then it won’t take long before the court knows too."

Edgar let out a groan, rubbing a hand down his face. "If Lucien was reckless enough to leave, then he must have had a reason. That means we’re running out of time."

He lowered his hand.

"You’d better pray that whatever he’s done stays hidden until he gets well."

Rowan and Samuel had their thoughts in tangles about what to say. The wound on Lucien’s arm was proof of the fight in the marketplace, but admitting that would reveal everything. They had sworn to keep their mouths shut, to let Lucien decide how much truth was to be spoken.

Before they could banter more, they heard a low groan coming from Lucien’s room as he gained a little consciousness. Edgar shot them a knowing look before striding into the room, Beatrice.

Lucien lay sprawled across the bed; he was tucked under his blanket, while his bandaged arm was not under the blanket. His dark hair was tousled on the black-colored pillow; his forehead was glistening with sweat; his face was pale; his body was covered with a blanket.

Rowan and Samuel followed behind Edgar into the room; Edgar walked towards the bed in a hurry, and the other two went to the other side of the bed

Edgar leaned down a little towards Lucien. "How are you feeling, Master Lucien?" he asked, trying to have a good look at his face.

Lucien’s eyelids fluttered, and the shadow of his lashes fell on his cheekbones. His lips parted slightly as if trying to form words, but he was still too tired, as the medicine still had an effect on him. Pain rang through his body as he shifted slightly on his bed.

Samuel also leaned down to help him; he looked into Lucien’s eyes. "He’s still half out of it."

Edgar’s eyes were fixed on Lucien. "Let him rest, but when he wakes, I want answers."

Rowan and Samuel exchanged glances, they knew this old man would not let this mattee go.

Lucien’s voice was hoarse and weak , it barely made past his lips. "Edgar..."

Edgar leaned in more, as if trying to understand what Lucien has to say.

It hadn’t been long since the physicians left, and yet Lucien had woken sooner than they had expected. The fever that had burned through him seemed to have lessened, though he still looked exhausted.

But before Edgar could respond to Lucien’s soft call, the knock on the door made all three men turn. Roseria looked at the man who was on the bed. She took small steps towards his bed as if she were afraid of something.

Edgar frowned as he looked at this timid girl. "Lady Roseria, what are you doing here?" but Roseria did not seem to acknowledge his presence.

Her green eyes, full of worry, were fixed solely on her brother.

Without hesitation, she walked past Edgar, until she reached the bedside where Rowan and Samuel stood.

Both men instinctively stepped aside, allowing her space.

For a brief moment, the room was silent; the only sound they could hear was the faint sound of Lucien’s labored breathing.

And then, with trembling hands, Roseria reached out, her fingers hovering over the back of Lucien’s hand, uncertain if she was allowed to touch him, Roseria’s grip tightened around Lucien’s hand, her fingers trembling against his cool skin. Her misty green eyes darted between the men standing around the bed, desperate for an answer.

"Why is he like this?" Her voice wavered, her worry could be heard. "What happened to my brother?"

Edgar sighed softly, his previously darkenned eyes turned soft when he looked at this girl in front of him, that is when his eyes flicked to Rowan and Samuel, silently they were demanding for a response.

Rowan, knowing Edgar wasn’t trying to corner them but genuinely seeking help to help him to tell Roseria anythhing which would put her mind to calm, "He was hurt, Lady Roseria. But he’ll be fine." , somehow he had something to answer.

Roseria’s lips quivered to the thought of her brother’s being sick, her heart ached to see her brother like this. She shook her head, swallowing back the sob rising in her throat, but a single tear slipped past her lashes.

Rowan’s chest tightened at the sight. Roseria was the most innocent person he had ever known., she was untouched by the cruelty and politics that plagued their world. Seeing her like this, so fragile, made him feel uneasy.

He tried to console her. "It’s okay, Rosie. See? He’s already gained consciousness and as we know him ot would not take him long to be back to his self"

She blinked rapidly, understanding Rowan’s words as if trying to convince herself of his words.

Edgar cleared his throat as soon as he heard Rowan calling her Rosie; he was not supposed to call her that; she was an upper class to him. "Lady Roseria," he called to have her attention. She heard him but didn’t look at him. Rowan heard him. He nugded Samuel, who stood there just watching everything but not responding much. Rowan rolled his eyes toward the door. Samuel did not get his hint. "What?", sensing that Samuel did not get his hint, he pulled Samuel out of the door "We will go and tell others, that Mastter has gained consciousness.", Edgar too wanted to leave these siblings alone so he too followed out without saying anything.

Roseria turned back and held Lucien’s hand gently, pressing it against her tear-streaked cheek. Her voice trembled as she spoke, in a hushed voice.

"Brother, see? I’m here. Your Rosie is here."

A soft moan left Lucien’s lips as he moved to her slightly, his body responding to her being there. He turned his head a fraction of an inch in her direction, his half-closed eyes sparkling in the faint light. Though he could not open them all the way with him still being dizzy, he tried to open his eyes as much as he can.

Roseria’s breath caught at the vision, a shaky smile appearing on her face despite her being sad

"You must improve," she begged gently. "You promised me, don’t you remember? You said you’d take me to the Mesa Mountains when spring arrived. You can’t go back on your word, brother."

Lucien’s lips opened as if to answer, but only a harsh, raspy noise escaped through his lips. He swallowed gasping, his throat throbed painfully. This mere action, has his brows to knot.

Witnessing his struggle, Roseria panicked. "Don’t try to speak!" she blurted out, lightly grasping his hand. "Rest. I’ll remain here."

Her voice was warm with hope; it made Lucien feel good; it was not something no one would not see. Lucien loved his sister like anything he would do for her. she was like a tiny flickering candle in a dark, cold room; he received warmth from her It would have to be enough, for the time being.

Roseria sat there as a soft smile fluttered across Lucien’s lips before he fell back into sleep. She breathed softly, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Her gaze wandered through the dark room. Dust had stuck to the thick curtains, and the wooden bookshelves on the walls lost their sheen. Papers scattered on the floor as if they had been untouched for days. A frown creased her fine features.

"How could he sleep in a room so devoid of life?" she muttered, taking a look again at the room.

She rose to her feet and silently started collecting the scattered papers, piling them meticulously before putting them away into the drawer. It wasn’t much, but at least it looked nicer now. However, no matter what, despite her best efforts, the room was still haunted by his past.

"May I come in, Rosie?" Layla walked in; even though she called for Roseria, her eyes never left Lucien, gliding toward the bed. Her gown of silk whispered softly as she moved.

Layla could not control her urge to touch his face, even when he was hurt and wounded. even though his face was pale, He still looked like a god with his toned face; her eyes softened as she brought her hand to touch his cheek.

"Don’t, Lady Layla. He’s injured."