Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 77: Loyalty lies with the crown

Chapter 77: Loyalty lies with the crown

Alden sat upon the throne, eyes skimming over the gathered ministers. The usual suspects stood in orderly rows: the High Chancellor Merek, always smug; the Military Advisor Rhaul, stone-faced; and Minister Caldus, who had arrived earlier than usual with more than just ink and scrolls in tow.

Alden’s fingers tapped the carved lion on his armrest. "What is this about a disturbance in Fernwatch?"

Merek stepped forward, always eager to speak. "Only rumors, Your Majesty. No formal complaints."

Minister Caldus cleared his throat. "Rumors, yes. But dangerous ones." He gestured to a scribe, who handed Alden a report sealed in red wax.

Alden broke the seal, unfolded the parchment, and read in silence.

A girl. A false name. A noble crest once believed lost. A servant claiming she had seen a birthmark behind the girl’s ear, a mark belonging to the fallen House of Serren.

Alden glanced up, his voice dangerously soft. "And who, may I ask, brought this to light?"

Caldus hesitated. "A former court maid from the northern provinces. She had ties to the Serren family before their fall."

Alden leaned forward. "And where is she now?"

"She vanished last night. The innkeeper says she was last seen traveling with a merchant caravan heading west."

"Or someone didn’t want her speaking further," Alden muttered, tossing the scroll to Rowan, who stood by his side today, unusually silent.

Rowan read it and glanced up sharply. "This matches what Lord Lucien warned me about."

Alden narrowed his gaze. "Lucien again."

"Yes, Your Majesty. He’s been gathering whispers like this for months, quietly. Perhaps... we should listen."

Meanwhile, back in Lucien’s estate, Samuel arrived with three missives, all sealed with urgency.

Lucien opened the first, his eyes scanning quickly, his expression unreadable.

He passed it to Liora, who stood across from him, her eyes still cloudy from lack of sleep.

"It’s begun," he said simply.

The letter bore a simple message:

"She is remembered. If she is not claimed by the court, she will be claimed by its enemies."

Liora’s hand tightened around the parchment. "They want to use me."

"Or kill you before someone else can."

Lucien moved to the table, spreading out a map. His fingers tapped a small emblem, the ruined estate of House Serren, long since marked ’lost.’

"I need to know, Liora. Are you willing to uncover who you were, even if it changes everything?"

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. "Yes."

He nodded, then pointed at another mark on the map, Fernwatch. "Then we go where the whispers began."

In the capital, Beatrice stood silently in the Queen Dowager’s chamber, watching Lilian light a taper near a portrait.

"You’re sure she doesn’t know?" Lilian asked.

"She suspects nothing, Your Grace. But Lucien... he’s drawing closer."

Lilian’s mouth curled into a half-smile. "Then perhaps it’s time the court sees Serene return, whether she wants to or not."

The sky above Fernwatch was a dull steel gray, thick with clouds that threatened rain. The village lay quiet, almost too quiet for a settlement that once thrived under noble banners. The banners were gone now, burnt, buried, or stolen—but the ghosts remained.

Lucien’s black cloak fluttered in the wind as he stepped down from the carriage. Samuel followed, eyes sharp, fingers twitching near the dagger at his side. Behind them, Liora stepped out carefully, her boots touching soil that once might have belonged to her ancestors.

She said nothing, but her eyes flicked from the ruined gatehouse to the crumbling stone pillars that marked the path toward the keep. Her keep?

Lucien paused beside her. "Memories don’t always live in walls," he said.

She glanced at him, startled. "You sound like someone who lost a home."

"I did," he murmured. "Twice."

Samuel cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Locals say the town’s record keeper still lives. A priest, Father Mirun. Keeps his mouth shut unless bribed."

Lucien gave a half-smile. "Then let’s loosen his tongue."

Back at the Capital

Alden paced the royal study as Minister Caldus spread another set of documents across the table. "Three intercepted letters from the foreign borders," Caldus explained, "all encrypted, all mentioning a name, Serene."

Alden’s jaw locked. "Who is pushing this?"

Caldus hesitated. "We suspect Lord Gravell. His influence among the outer military houses is growing. He has ties in the south... and beyond."

Rowan stepped forward, arms crossed. "He could be working with foreign agents. If they plant someone claiming to be from the lost House of Serren, the people might rally."

"The people," Alden echoed bitterly. "They love a lost heir. It gives them something to believe in."

Rowan gave him a sharp look. "Then we either control the story... or the story controls us."

Alden nodded once. "Send a summons to Lord Gravell. And another to the Marquess of Irelin. I want their allegiance on record."

Fernwatch, Later That Day

The chapel was quiet, musty, and tilted with age. Vines crawled up the stone walls, half-choking the ancient crest carved above the altar. Liora stared at it, heart skipping.

It was the same sigil she’d seen once... in her mother’s journal. A lion’s head, crowned, with a weeping moon above.

Lucien noticed her reaction. "You recognize it."

"I think I do," she whispered.

Before he could reply, the sound of slow, dragging footsteps echoed through the chapel.

An old man entered, his robes dusted with ash, his face narrow and guarded. "I heard the wind carried strangers," he said. "But I didn’t expect ghosts."

Lucien stepped forward. "Father Mirun, we need your help."

The priest studied Liora. "Her face is familiar."

"I was told you knew the names of those who lived and died in Fernwatch," Lucien said, his voice calm but steely. "We want the truth."

Father Mirun gave a dry chuckle. "Truth has a price."

Samuel dropped a pouch of coins at his feet. "Then name it."

The priest’s hand trembled as he picked it up. "The girl’s name was not Serene," he said slowly. "It was Liora Serren. Your family died protecting a secret, child."

Lucien’s gaze sharpened. "What secret?"

Mirun’s eyes darted toward the stained-glass window. "Not all nobles sided with the crown during the rebellion. Some... created heirs in the dark."

Liora felt cold. "Are you saying...?"

"You were hidden," Mirun whispered. "Because if the court had found you... you’d have been executed with the rest."

The air inside the chapel thickened. Even the flickering candlelight seemed to grow still, as if it too was waiting for what Father Mirun would say next.

Lucien took a slow step forward. "What do you mean ’created in the dark’?"

Mirun hesitated, his withered hands clenched tight around the pouch of coins. "Not all children are born to shine. Some are born to silence the truth."

He looked at Liora, then, really looked, and the weight in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

"Your mother was no mere lady of a minor house. She was the last living daughter of House Serren, once rulers of the southern borderlands, loyal to the throne... until they weren’t."

Lucien’s expression darkened. "Serren was extinguished during the rebellion."

"So it was said," the priest replied bitterly. "But one daughter survived. Hidden. Smuggled across the border under a new name. Married into obscurity. And when she gave birth to you, the crown would have seen you as a threat."

Liora stepped back. "You’re saying... my life was a lie?"

"No." Mirun’s voice dropped to a whisper. "I’m saying your life was a weapon... that never got to be used."

Lucien clenched his jaw, tension radiating from him. "Why reveal this now?"

"Because the whispers have started again," Mirun said. "South of the border, a new claimant rises. They call her the White Flame. She wears the Serren sigil and speaks of vengeance for a fallen bloodline."

Samuel scoffed. "A pretender?"

"Or worse," Lucien murmured. "A pawn."

Liora’s mind spun. If someone else was claiming her bloodline, could they truly be related? Or had someone unearthed the Serren legacy to sow discord? Either way, her existence was no longer buried.

Lucien turned to her. "If your blood can be used to challenge the crown, you’ll become a symbol. A threat."

"To Alden?" she asked.

"No," Lucien said quietly. "To everyone."

Meanwhile, in the Western Wing of the Capital,

Minister Veyra, head of foreign correspondence, unfolded the latest sealed message with trembling fingers. Her assistant waited nervously beside her, eyes wide.

"It’s confirmed," Veyra whispered. "Gravell met with an envoy of the Tharven Empire. In secret. South of the border."

"Should we inform the king?"

"We will," she said, folding the letter and sliding it beneath her robe. "But first... I want to see what Gravell does next."

At the Royal Court

Lord Gravell, tall and composed, knelt before King Alden with a perfectly measured grace. His voice was firm but respectful.

"You summoned me, Your Majesty?"

Alden nodded slowly. "It has come to my attention that there are foreign agents near our borders. Some claim a bloodline once thought extinguished may resurface."

Gravell’s lips twitched, almost a smirk. "Fascinating. Ghosts rising, perhaps."

Alden’s eyes narrowed. "If there are ghosts, I intend to bury them properly this time."

Rowan stepped forward. "We’ve already begun investigations. Any cooperation from the border lords would be appreciated."

Gravell gave a shallow bow. "Of course. My loyalty lies with the crown."

As he turned away, Alden’s gaze followed him, sharp and calculating. "Let us hope," he said under his breath, "that it stays there."