Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 64: you are so quick to judge.

Chapter 64: you are so quick to judge.

Liora brought her hands up to tie her hair, but the motion pulled at her bruises.

"Ouch..." she winced and quickly lowered her arms, giving up.

Beatrice snorted without sympathy. "You’re wincing, yet still insisting on helping? What, are you trying to frame me for overworking the concubine now?" She narrowed her eyes at Liora, but the teasing in her tone softened the bite.

Even though Beatrice knew what task Liora was meant to carry out, orders from the Queen Dowager herself, she still waited for the girl to confirm.

"It’s just a little pain," Liora insisted, her voice low but steady. "Tell me, Madam. What’s the work"?

Beatrice hummed thoughtfully. "Let’s see. I won’t have you cleaning with those arms. But since you’re feeling so very good," she looked at Liora with mock skepticism, "why don’t you look after Master Lucien instead?"

Liora’s face paled instantly.

In the morning, there had been others around... But going to him alone?

What if he rejected her presence? Or worse... became annoyed?

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. "What, backing out already? Just now you were so adamant to help."

"I’ll do it," Liora murmured, then steadied her voice. "I will."

Unbeknownst to them, Tessa, who was busy with her chopping board, had been eavesdropping the entire time. Her ears perked at every word. Her mistress liked Prince Lucien. And this concubine? She was trying to inch her way in.

’Hmph. A wanna-be lady... she needs to be put in her place.’ Tessa mentally made a note to report everything to her madam.

Meanwhile, Liora asked quietly, "So... how shall I start?"

Beatrice motioned toward the counter. "Master Rowan mentioned that Master Lucien should have hydrating foods. Fruits will be a good option. Prepare a plate and bring it to him."

Liora nodded and walked to the counter. As she gently arranged the fruits on a tray, she glanced around, hoping to find a helper. Lily was clearly swamped.

’Where’s Mira? She was supposed to be in the kitchen today.’

Liora turned to Beatrice. "Madam... Have you seen Mira?"

"I sent her out to handle something," Beatrice replied, trying to avoid another layer of mess.

"Alright, I’ll manage." Liora gave a small nod and lifted the tray.

She stepped out of the chaotic kitchen and made her way upstairs. With every step toward Lucien’s room, her pulse quickened. Her hand trembled slightly as she raised it to knock.

Knock..knock

Inside the room, Lucien, who assumed Rowan had returned from the errand, spoke flatly, "Come in."

The command made a chill run down Liora’s spine. She hesitated a second longer before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The room was dimly lit, soaked in quiet.

Lucien had his back to the door, seated near the window. When he didn’t hear Rowan’s usual footsteps, he turned.

His eyes landed on her.

Liora stood just inside the threshold, gripping the tray of fruits tightly.

Lucien’s voice was sharp and low.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you here for?" Lucien asked again, his voice darker this time, his eyes narrowing with an intensity that made Liora’s breath hitch.

That stare was cold and she wanted to bolt, to run downstairs, shove the tray into Beatrice’s hands, and say she couldn’t do it. But something stopped her. Despite his cold exterior, Lucien hadn’t been cruel to her that morning.

He’d even shown... restraint.

So instead, she moved forward, step by step, and placed the tray of fruits on the cluttered table. The entire room was in disarray, like it had been cleaned and then undone again by a storm.

Lucien’s gaze didn’t shift.

"I said, what are you here for?" he repeated, voice low but commanding.

Liora swallowed hard. Her fingers twisted into the folds of her skirt, the other hand nervously brushing her neck. "I... I was sent by Madam Beatrice..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling at the edges. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

Lucien raised a brow, still unreadable. Then, coldly, "If that’s all, you may leave."

He ran a hand down his face, visibly frustrated. Liora read the gesture, and her heart sank. So it really is my presence that’s bothering him...

She bowed quickly and turned to leave.

But—

"Wait!"

His voice echoed across the room, deeper than before. Liora froze mid-step, her breath catching.

She stood still, her back straight, hands clenched at her sides.

"Lock the door," he ordered, his tone flat and unrelenting.

Her eyes widened. "L-Lock...? Why?"

"Do as I say."

He moved to the chair and sat down with a quiet thud, legs spread slightly, elbows resting on the arms like a man far too used to commanding.

Liora hesitated, then slowly walked to the door. With shaky fingers, she turned the lock until it clicked.

Her heart pounded. ’What’s he planning?’ she thought, her face pale beneath the fading bruises. She turned to face him, trying to mask her nerves with a weak, tight-lipped expression.

Lucien didn’t look at her. Instead, he uncorked a glass bottle sitting on the side table and poured himself a drink. The amber liquid shimmered as it filled the glass. When he took a sip, his lips glistened slightly, a soft, almost careless tsk escaping his tongue.

Then he finally spoke, eyes still fixed on the drink.

"You did well."

Liora bblinked. ...Huh?"

She had no idea what he was talking about. Still, she responded instinctively; her voice cracked.

"A-about what, Your Highness?"

She was sweating now. The ointment on her cheeks, barely dried, began to soften again. She could feel it tickling against her skin.

Lucien finally looked up.

"That flower. The one the doctor spoke of..." His eyes narrowed. "How did you know about it?"

Liora’s gaze darted around the room, anywhere but at him.

"I..."

"Answer me." His voice was calm but quickly losing patience.

The tension spiked.

"I...!" she started, but the moment his voice rose..

"I said, Answer."

His roar was sudden and sharp. It cut through the air like a blade.

Liora flinched violently, stumbling a step back, her hands raising instinctively to shield herself.

"I... I learned it from my uncle. Back in my town," Liora rreplied, hervoice low but firm.

Lucien’s expression didn’t change, but his voice did...it dropped suddenly, eerily calm.

"So that means you’re not qualified. Is that correct?"

That kind of voice, which is so still, so deliberate, always belonged to someone dangerous.

Liora nodded quickly. She didn’t want to risk another one of his outbursts.

Lucien took a slow sip from his drink before continuing. "Then why lie to Cecilia about having qualifications?"

The question landed harder than she expected. Her fingers trembled as she clasped them together. ’Why is he going in circles like this?’

"I only wanted to help," she murmured, then took a step forward, as if her words needed the push. Her voice rose, driven by urgency. "Lady Cecilia wouldn’t have let me near her otherwise. But it worked, didn’t it? Have you not seen her progress?"

Lucien frowned. His eyes dropped briefly to her feet. Noticing, Liora stepped back again, guilt prickling her skin.

"I mean... I was trained. Back in my town. Just not in the way you’re thinking," she added quickly, clearing her throat.

A brief silence filled the room, thick and tense.

Then Lucien spoke, his voice colder than before.

"I am amazed the Miral family prepared their daughter so well. Was it for a specific reason... or a target?"

The insinuation made her flinch. Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Lucien didn’t let her question linger.

"You’re in no place to ask questions," he said, leaning forward in the chair, setting the glass aside with a quiet clink. His legs were folded, arms resting casually, but his stare had sharpened.

The air around him crackled with command. "Did my mother send you here... to spy on me?"

The accusation hit like a slap. What?" Liora’s eyes widened, her hands lifting in a defensive gesture. "No! I’m not... I would never..."

"I already have your details." Lucien cut her off, eyes like steel.

His informants had been thorough. Samuel’s pigeon had arrived earlier than expected, long before the man himself returned.

"Liora Miral. No parents. Raised by relatives. A grandmother is still alive. A few cousins." Lucien’s voice was steady and merciless. "And, most importantly, sold to my mother."

Liora froze, the breath sucked out of her lungs.

Lucien let out a low, mocking chuckle. "Thought so. I knew something was off. No wonder you keep finding ways to get in my way."

"Stop." Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the air like glass.

Lucien paused.

"Do you think I want to be here?" she asked, her voice rising with emotion. Her eyes shimmered, not from fear, but from something deeper. "That I enjoy being sold like some... object?"

Her lips trembled, but she kept speaking, even as her voice cracked.

"You’re so quick to assume, to point fingers and play prince and judge. But isn’t it a little too fast to think you’ve figured it all out?"