Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 62: Conditions

Chapter 62: Conditions

Roseria was growing restless.

The afternoon sun did little to lift her spirits as she wandered the palace gardens. Boredom clung to her like a stubborn shadow. She wanted to spend time with her brother, but Lucien seemed to vanish the moment she sought him out; he has always been busy, or so they said.

Busy with what, exactly? He wasn’t the army head anymore.

Back then, when Alden had just taken the throne, Lucien had led the royal army and he held the Eagle Stamp, the symbol of the empire’s might and the mark of its supreme general. But after the disgrace... it had all been stripped away. His title, his power, and the stamp that had once been etched into wax like his very identity had gone.

Roseria sighed.

Everyone was occupied. Liora, though sweet, was still new, and Roseria wasn’t sure where they stood. Layla? She could try, but the crown princess, despite her charm, had a sharpness to her; it was like a jewel too dazzling to touch.

That left Rowan. But he was practically glued to Lucien’s side, like his shadow had grown legs and started walking.

She walked aimlessly through the garden, trailing her fingers along the bushes, until she looped back toward the maids’ entrance. Just as she reached the gate, her steps slowed.

There, kneeling by the stone wall, was Mira.

She looked awful.

Roseria stepped closer, her silk slippers brushing against the gravel. "Mira?"

Startled, Mira tried to shift backward, staying on her knees. Her posture was stiff, her face was pale, and her eyes looked downcast.

"Are you alright?" Roseria asked, crouching beside her and placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

"I... I am," Mira stuttered.

"Then why are you kneeling out here like this?" Roseria asked, narrowing her eyes.

Mira hesitated. She knew silence might be seen as disrespect.

"I’m being punished," she finally admitted in a low voice.

"Punished? Again?" Roseria’s expression turned into a frown. "For what this time?"

Mira hesitated again, but Roseria was not the kind of princess who let things slide.

Eventually, Mira caved and mumbled out the entire story.

"Oh?" Roseria tilted her head, then giggled softly. "Mira, is it your secret hobby to keep getting punished? Hmm?"

Mira’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "It’s not like that, princess," she muttered, eyes still on the ground.

"It’s alright," Roseria said with a teasing lilt. "I’ll finish your punishment for you."

Mira glanced at her cautiously. That was a trap, and they both knew it.

"But," Roseria added, her voice turning singsong, "I have conditions."

There it is, Mira thought with an inward sigh.

"I’m fine, my lady," Mira quickly replied, hoping to dodge whatever chaos Roseria had in mind. "Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf."

"But... won’t your madam be worried if you stay out here too long?" Roseria asked, tilting her head with faux innocence.

Mira hesitated. She knew she couldn’t say no forever. After a short pause, she nodded.

"Good!" Roseria beamed. "We’ll start with a walk. Then maybe we’ll bake something. I miss baking. And flower tiaras! We used to make the prettiest ones."

Mira managed a small smile. She’d known Roseria since her time in Queen Dowager Lilian’s estate. They were close in age, and there had been a time when Mira followed her around like a little sister would.

Roseria, now visibly thrilled, skipped ahead slightly before turning back. "No need for Edgar to assign me a dozen maids today. I have you."

With that, the princess led Mira off the path, toward a patch of wildflowers blooming near the east wing. Roseria’s mind already buzzed with plans: walking barefoot, making tiaras, giggling under the shade like they used to.

In a world where ego often drowned out reason, it was only natural that whispers spread fast.

News that someone had dared to rescue a prisoner wouldn’t stay buried long. Surely, by now, it had reached the ears of the culprit.

Rowan had no time to waste. He’d left the estate on Lucien’s orders, heading toward the city to retrieve a discreet report from the physician who’d treated Lucien. While an informant was supposed to deliver the findings, complications had arisen—mainly in the form of Roseria and Layla being in the estate. Their presence made slipping such sensitive information in undetected a nightmare.

So Rowan went himself.

And he wasn’t happy about it.

He had paid the physician already. Generously, too. Now, not only did he have to fetch the results personally, but it also meant another dent in his coin pouch. He sighed heavily as he reached the outer courtyard of the medical quarter.

The physician in question wasn’t working alone. He was under the supervision of a more prominent name—Melman, a renowned palace doctor known for working closely with concubines and noblewomen, often under the guise of being a eunuch to avoid scandal.

But it was Melman’s assistant who had worked directly on Lucien’s case. Rowan was there for him.

Standing by the back entrance of the medicine room, Rowan leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, his foot tapping irritably against the floor.

"How long does it take to prepare a bloody report?" he muttered under his breath.

After waiting far too long, Rowan knocked.

"Alright, alright! Can’t you wait just a little longer?" Come in, came a sharp voice from inside.

Rowan’s eye twitched.

Eventually, the door creaked open and a wiry man with pale skin appeared, holding a folded paper. "My master asked me to analyze the substance we extracted from your lord’s system," he said, his voice clipped. "This is the result."

Rowan unfolded the sheet, but before his eyes could scan the contents, the physician suddenly lurched forward and tried to drag him inside.

"What in the..." Rowan grunted, unmoving. "What do you think you’re doing?" he asked, raising a brow in clear warning.

The physician looked panicked, tugging again but Rowan was built like a wall. The thin man’s efforts barely caused his cloak to shift.

Then the reason revealed itself. A palace lady stepped into the hallway behind them, accompanied by a maid. Her eyes landed on Rowan and lingered.

Great.

He angled his body slightly away to shield his face. The last thing they needed was a palace woman reporting suspicious men near the medicine wing.

But of course, Rowan’s luck was never that simple.

The woman smiled as she approached, clearly mistaking him for someone... desirable. Her eyes shimmered with curiosity and maybe something more.

She stopped a polite distance away, her voice soft and laced with charm. "Sir, are you new here?"

Rowan glanced at the physician, then back at her. Not replying would be rude. And suspicious.

So he smiled.

"Yes, miss."

Her cheeks tinged pink. "Are you here for medicine too?"

Rowan’s smirk widened slightly. "Well, this is the medicine department, isn’t it? Not here for sweets."

She giggled, and even the maid behind her exchanged a knowing glance.

The physician shrank into the corner, visibly uncomfortable. He had heard plenty of stories about palace ladies; they were scheming, manipulative, and prone to causing scandal with nothing but a look and a whisper.

Rowan, meanwhile, kept his smile in place, but his patience was fraying. He had work to do. The poison report in his hand was burning through his glove.

If this woman delayed him any longer, he might lose more than just time.

"But what exactly is your work here?" Rowan asked with a hint of playfulness. "Looking at you, you don’t seem like a palace servant."

The woman smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I’m here to fetch medicine. I came with my madam."

Rowan nodded. "That’s good..."

He didn’t get to finish.

The physician stepped out at that moment, carrying a small glass dish with a few red pills. He handed them to the lady, who accepted them with grace and a thank-you smile. She waved at Rowan before walking away with her maid.

Rowan watched her go, his gaze briefly flicking to the pills in her hand. He hadn’t paid much attention to them until he turned back to find Kenneth scowling like someone had just spoiled his favorite tea.

"What’s with that face?" Rowan asked, his casual tone dropping into something colder.

"I saw how that woman was talking to you," Kenneth muttered, narrowing his eyes.

Rowan raised a brow. "Look, thin man...sorry, what was your name again?"

"...Kenneth."

"Right. Kenneth. Listen...girls get attracted to me. It’s not new." He smirked.

Kenneth didn’t seem amused. "Those women are trouble. Scheming."

Rowan tilted his head, amused now. "You sound jealous. That lady was cute."

Kenneth gave him a flat look. "You didn’t see what she was holding, did you?"

"The pills?" Rowan frowned. "What about them?"

"Red pills," Kenneth said quietly. "Those are used for abortion."

Rowan’s smile faded.

His gaze drifted in the direction the woman had gone.

"And who were those for?" He asked, his voice now edged with steel.

Kenneth scratched the back of his neck. "Some concubine. Comes here now and then. Always sends her maid. This time she came herself."

Rowan’s frown deepened.

Abortion was a serious crime in the palace, unless the child wasn’t the king’s. Even then, it was dangerous. Reckless. Desperate.

"And you’re sure about the pills?" Rowan asked, already knowing Kenneth wouldn’t speak lightly.

"I heard it from Master Melman," Kenneth said. "And something else too..."

Rowan narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Kenneth hesitated, then said, "The master said...whoever those pills are for... she might not be able to conceive again. Not properly. Either she won’t, or if she does, the child might not survive."

Something cold twisted in Rowan’s gut.

He looked again toward the direction the maid had gone, the red pills now branded into his memory.

"Do you know which concubine it is?" he asked.

Kenneth shook his head. "No names. Only glimpses. Master handles it discreetly."

Rowan didn’t reply. But his mind was already racing.

In the palace, secrets didn’t stay buried for long...but the ones that did... usually came back with blood.

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