Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 74: Learn to bite

Chapter 74: Learn to bite

The Queen Dowager’s chambers were draped in stillness. The scent of sandalwood hung faint in the air, and the light from the tall windows touched the gold embroidery on her gown like sun on snow. Seated with the poise of a ruler who had never truly stepped down, Lilian read the letter in her hand for the third time.

It bore Liora Miral’s name. The once-discarded girl who now lived under Lucien’s roof.

"She dares write to me?" Lilian said softly, her voice devoid of surprise but filled with calculation.

Beatrice stood to her right. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, though her eyes betrayed the curiosity stirring beneath the surface.

"She was supposed to be a meek creature," Beatrice murmured. "I thought she would simply rot at that estate, ignored by the fallen prince."

"She writes like a courtier," Lilian noted, folding the letter. "Humble. Careful. Suggestive."

She placed it on the table and stood.

"I suspect Lucien put her up to this."

Beatrice’s brow rose. "You believe it’s a trick?"

Lilian walked to the window. Below, the royal gardens bloomed in late-spring color, manicured to perfection by hands more loyal than most nobles. She didn’t answer immediately.

"Either he’s using her to reach me, or she’s playing both sides," Lilian said finally. "Either way, it means he’s watching me. And she... might be smarter than she looks."

Beatrice hesitated. "Do you want me to respond on your behalf?"

Lilian turned.

"No. Invite her yourself. Make it warm. Curious. Let her believe she has impressed me."

"Will you meet her in person?"

Lilian shook her head. "Not yet. First I want to see who watches her when she walks through my court."

She picked up the letter again and tapped her nail once against it.

"If Lucien’s hand is behind this, he will not send her unguarded. And if he does, he underestimates me."

Beatrice smiled faintly. "Shall I have her arrive for the summer court session?"

Lilian nodded. "And have Lady Celene arrange her chambers. Nothing too grand — enough to stir whispers, but not enough to offer comfort. I want her to know she’s being watched, but not yet whether she is welcomed or threatened."

"And the ministers?"

"They needn’t know of this... yet. Let them believe she’s just another concubine trying to beg for favor."

Beatrice bowed, her silk sleeves brushing the floor. "As you command."

As she turned to leave, Lilian spoke once more.

"Beatrice."

She paused.

"Keep an eye on Harland Vex. He’s been writing too often."

Beatrice inclined her head and left the chamber.

Meanwhile, deep in the lower wing of the estate, Samuel tightened his gloves. "She’s really going?"

Rowan nodded, arms folded as he watched Liora fit a modest traveling robe over her dress.

"She’ll be fine," he said.

Samuel scoffed. "We’re sending her into a viper’s den."

Rowan’s jaw clenched. "Yes. And she’ll learn to bite."

From outside, Lucien watched in silence, eyes fixed on the woman he once dismissed as nothing more than a discarded pawn.

The palace gates weren’t welcoming. They loomed.

Tall, ornate, and edged in blackened bronze, they opened with a groan that sent a whisper down Liora’s spine. She sat straight in the carriage, face unreadable, her hands resting in her lap. No jewels. No paint on her face. Just the soft sheen of confidence carved from careful rehearsals.

This wasn’t a visit. It was a test.

As the carriage rolled forward into the inner courts, the scent of jasmine and old stone filled her lungs. Servants watched. Guards stood sharper than necessary. The silence was unnatural — too well-trained, too aware.

By the time the carriage stopped, Liora had composed herself entirely.

Rowan helped her down, stepping aside the moment her boots touched marble.

A woman approached. Older, with iron-grey hair braided tightly around her head, her robe marked with subtle but undeniable threads of authority.

"Lady Miral," the woman said without a smile. "Welcome to the palace. I am Lady Celene. I’ve been instructed to oversee your accommodations."

Liora bowed, respectfully but not too deeply. "It is an honor, my lady."

Lady Celene watched her for a beat, then turned. "Follow me."

The halls were hushed but heavy with layers — not dust, but silence, tradition, and judgment. Murals lined the walls; not one depicted a concubine. Only kings, queens, wars, and old gods long abandoned.

Her room was in the eastern wing — close to the ladies of the court, but just far enough from any real power. The bed was modest. The drapes old. A servant bowed and left, whispering that her bath was drawn.

Liora didn’t relax.

Lady Celene stood by the window, hands clasped. "You will be expected at the outer audience hall tomorrow morning. The Queen Dowager may or may not be present."

Liora turned. "Will anyone else be in attendance?"

"A few ladies of influence," she replied. "And possibly Lord Harland. He oversees the Ministerial Council these days."

Liora nodded. She had read his name in Lucien’s notes. Ambitious. Ruthless. Tied to Lilian, but only by convenience.

"And if I have questions?"

"You may ask." Lady Celene met her gaze. "But answers are not guaranteed."

Liora smiled faintly. "Then I will choose my questions wisely."

The older woman gave her a long, unreadable look... then left without another word.

That night, the moon watched as whispers traveled.

In the Queen Dowager’s solar, Beatrice sipped her tea, listening to Lilian read a report.

"She arrived calm. Said all the right things."

"Good," Lilian murmured. "Let the court believe she’s timid. Until she’s not."

Across the palace, in the council’s private quarters, Lord Harland studied a different piece of parchment Lucien’s seal broken, its contents delivered to him by mistake or manipulation, it was unclear.

He frowned.

"This girl," he muttered, "is not what she pretends to be."

Behind him, a shadow moved.

"My lord," said a smooth, unfamiliar voice. "Do we clip her wings?"

Harland looked back. "Not yet. Let’s see how high she dares to fly."

Liora stepped in, chin lifted, expression carefully composed — neither shy nor arrogant. The rustle of her skirt echoed slightly, swallowed by the sheer size of the chamber. She caught several glances: curiosity, calculation, one or two veiled sneers.

She didn’t mind.

Lilian wasn’t present. That was a relief. But a different kind of danger had arrived in her place.

At the far end, seated like he’d been born in that chair, was Lord Harland Vale, Minister of Internal Affairs and King Alden’s most trusted advisor in times of court turbulence. He didn’t bother hiding his scrutiny.

Beside him sat Lady Adeline Norcrest, a noble widow with too many estates and too much time. Her fingers were adorned with rings sharp enough to scratch glass.

Liora gave them both the customary bow.

"My Lords. My Ladies."

"You may sit," Harland said, motioning to a low seat — noticeably positioned apart from the rest. Not too close. Not too distant. The perfect spot for observation.

"How do you find the palace, Lady Miral?" Adeline asked, eyes narrowing with polite venom.

"Large," Liora answered with a smile. "And every corner seems to whisper."

Adeline’s mouth twitched. "You’ve a sharp tongue for someone newly arrived."

"I was told to bring my wit. I thought it would be more welcome than silence."

That earned a few startled glances. One of the younger noblewomen coughed to stifle a laugh.

Harland didn’t smile, but his fingers tapped once against the table.

"Lady Liora, let us speak plainly. You were once the concubine to Prince Lucien. Now, you are a guest of the crown. Some question what you bring to the court."

"Then I shall answer plainly," Liora replied. "I bring nothing. I am here because I was sent. If I am to serve, I will. If I am to observe, I shall. And if I am to leave, I’ll do so without complaint."

Silence.

Then — footsteps echoed behind her.

A new figure entered: a man in rich plum-colored robes, his hair streaked with gold at the temples.

"Forgive the interruption," he said smoothly, bowing. "I am Lord Caldrin Merrow — envoy of the Eastern Provinces."

He wasn’t expected.

And that’s exactly what made the room shift.

Adeline narrowed her eyes. "You were not summoned, Lord Merrow."

"No. But with war whispers in the east and certain ministers turning deaf to border tension, I thought it best to arrive early."

Harland’s fingers stilled.

Liora sat perfectly still, but her thoughts weren’t.

Eastern provinces? War whispers?

Why had Lucien not mentioned this?

Lord Merrow’s gaze swept the room and landed briefly on Liora. He gave her the smallest of nods.

She didn’t return it. Not yet.

But her stomach knotted.

Something was unraveling. And she was being drawn straight into the middle of it.

Lucien let out a breath, long and low.

So it begins.

He didn’t trust Merrow. The man was a master of veiled words and long games. His sudden appearance wasn’t diplomacy — it was a calculated move. And the fact that he acknowledged Liora... Lucien’s jaw tightened.

Behind him, Rowan entered, the door closing with a click.

"You saw it?" Lucien asked, not turning.

"I did." Rowan’s voice was grim. "He didn’t just speak to the court. He paused. He studied Liora like she was an unopened scroll hiding state secrets."

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.