Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 82: Warn Lucien

Chapter 82: Warn Lucien

"I dare say you’ll do well here, Lady Liora. Provided you... tread carefully."

The warning was subtle. Threat and advice wrapped in a single breath.

Liora dipped her head. Inside, her mind raced.

Enemies dressed as allies. Allies hidden among enemies. She would have to walk a razor’s edge.

But she had survived worse.

She could survive this.

Later That Night

A black-cloaked rider slipped through the gates of Blackthorne Estate, unseen.

In his hand was a sealed missive, addressed only to Lucien Blackthorne.

The war for the crown had begun. And in wars like these, only the most ruthless would survive.

The estate seemed different after nightfall, cloaked in shadows, thick with the weight of secrets.

In the highest tower of Blackthorne, Lucien waited, staring out the window toward the barren stretch of road leading to the woods. Only the pale light of the moon illuminated the cold stone floors.

A knock came — precise, two short, one long.

Rowan opened the door without waiting for a reply. Behind him stepped a figure draped in a traveler’s cloak, dust and wear clinging to his boots.

"Elias," Lucien said, not bothering to hide the tension in his voice.

The man removed his hood, revealing sharp features, a sardonic smile playing at the edge of his lips. His hair was dusted with gray, though his eyes those clever, dangerous eyes remained unchanged.

"You called," Elias said, voice light but edged. "And against my better judgment, here I am."

Lucien gestured toward the hearth. "You heard about the southern unrest?"

"I hear about everything," Elias said smoothly, dropping into the chair as if he owned the room. "The rumors in the court. The ministers are lining their pockets. Even Varric’s secret dealings with foreign traders."

Rowan stiffened. "You’re certain?"

Elias flicked a lazy glance at him. "Certain enough to bet my life on it."

Lucien’s hand tightened over the edge of the map. "Then we don’t have much time."

"You have less than you think," Elias corrected, warming his hands by the fire. "There’s talk that Duke Harren is preparing to shift his allegiance."

Rowan cursed under his breath. "The South is already unstable. If Harren turns..."

"The border collapses," Elias finished. "And you, dear prince, will find yourself surrounded on all sides."

Lucien’s jaw tightened.

"And what would you suggest?" he asked.

Elias’s smile widened, sharp and knowing. "Let me stir the pot a little. Loose lips sink ships and perhaps a few ministers, too. Some timely scandals, a few forged letters, maybe a couple of ’accidents....’"

"No bloodshed unless necessary," Lucien cut in coldly.

Elias sighed, almost theatrically. "Still the noble fool."

Lucien’s eyes hardened. "Just make it happen."

Elias stood, tossing a lazy salute. "Consider it done."

As he left, Rowan turned to Lucien. "You trust him?"

Lucien exhaled slowly. "I don’t trust anyone. I use them."

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Estate

Liora moved carefully through the shadowed hallways, unseen.

Something about Lady Beatrice’s warning earlier had set her nerves on edge, refusing to let her sleep. She needed to know what was happening, what Lucien wasn’t telling her.

As she passed near the servant’s quarters, hushed voices drifted to her ears.

"...they say Lord Varric offered twice the gold if the estate falls," a man whispered. "And if it doesn’t?" another asked. The first man snorted. "Then we slit the girl’s throat and blame the Blackthornes."

Liora froze, blood draining from her face.

The girl. They meant her.

A hand clamped over her mouth from behind.

She struggled until a voice hissed in her ear, "Quiet. If they hear you, you’re dead."

Slowly, Liora stilled. The hand withdrew, revealing a young servant boy no older than fifteen with terrified eyes.

"You’re not safe here," he whispered urgently. "They’re coming for you."

Liora’s heart pounded.

She needed to warn Lucien ...She needed to run ...She needed a plan.

Because now, she knew the truth:

Blackthorne Estate was a battlefield. And she was caught at the heart of it.

The estate wore a stillness that felt almost unnatural. Every stone and hallway seemed to listen.

Inside the dim corridors, Samuel walked swiftly toward Lucien’s study, a sealed letter clenched in his hand. His boots barely made a sound against the cold floors. Only when he reached the door did he pause, knocking thrice in quick succession.

"Enter," came Lucien’s voice, low and sharp.

Samuel entered, bowing his head slightly. "My lord, news from the border towns."

Lucien, seated at the desk, lifted his gaze. His expression, once merely severe, hardened further.

Samuel placed the letter before him. "It’s worse than we expected. There are movements small armies gathering near the western cliffs. Lord Marwood and Minister Caron were seen meeting foreign envoys in secret."

Lucien broke the wax seal swiftly and read. His brows drew together into a tight line.

"Traitors," he muttered under his breath.

Samuel hesitated before speaking again. "It appears they’re trying to negotiate a split of territories. If they succeed, the western borders will no longer belong to Alden’s crown."

Lucien leaned back in his chair, tapping the letter against the edge of the desk.

"And Alden?" he asked coldly.

Samuel stiffened. "His Majesty has been informed... But some council members are urging him to negotiate peace with the traitors to avoid civil war."

Lucien let out a soft, mirthless laugh. "Peace with vipers only leads to death."

For a long moment, the room was silent except for the slow crackle of the fireplace. Lucien’s mind raced, weighing options, measuring risks.

Finally, he said, "Summon Rowan. And send word to Beatrice. We must tread carefully — too many eyes watch us now."

Samuel bowed and turned to leave but hesitated. "And Lady Liora?"

Lucien’s fingers tightened slightly around the letter. "Keep her uninvolved for now. She’s... not ready for this."

Samuel nodded, hiding the smirk that tugged at his lips.

Meanwhile, in another wing of the estate, Liora sat near her window, staring at the stars littering the dark sky.

She had heard the whispers among the servants unrest beyond the borders, nobles plotting treason, the court thick with tension. And although Lucien had not told her anything directly, she could feel it.

He’s keeping me away, she thought bitterly, drawing her knees to her chest. Just like everyone else.

But something inside her refused to sit still this time.

If she truly wanted to be by his side not as a pawn, but as someone he could trust, she needed to find her own way into the storm.

A knock at her door startled her. Elise peeked in.

"Lady Liora," she whispered urgently, "one of the stewards dropped this outside your door. I don’t know if it was meant for you or...someone else."

Liora frowned and took the folded parchment.

Inside, hastily scribbled in an unfamiliar hand, were only a few words:

"If you wish to know what they are hiding, come to the east tower at midnight. Alone."

Liora’s heart thundered in her chest.

This... could change everything.

And yet, a single misstep could cost her far more than just her place at Lucien’s side.

She clenched the note tightly in her hand.

Tonight, the stars would be witness to secrets buried too long.

The clock struck midnight.

Wrapped in a dark shawl and careful to muffle her steps, Liora slipped silently through the estate’s deserted corridors. The shadows clung to the walls like silent sentinels, and the faint glimmer of the moon was her only guide.

Each step closer to the east tower tightened the knot in her chest.

She knew Lucien would not approve.He would rather keep me locked away, protected.But Liora was tired of protection that kept her blind.

When she reached the narrow stairwell spiraling up the east tower, she paused, straining her ears.Nothing.

With one last breath, she began her ascent.

At the top, a heavy door stood slightly ajar, creaking softly with the night breeze. Light flickered inside not candlelight, but a single low-burning lantern.

Liora pushed the door wider and stepped inside.

The chamber beyond was small and barren, save for a table at the center and standing beside it was a cloaked figure, back turned to her.

"You came," the figure said, voice low and male.

Liora stood her ground. "Who are you?"

The man slowly turned, pulling back his hood to reveal a sharp face marked by old scars and cold, assessing eyes.

"You don’t need to know my name," he said. "You need only listen."

Liora’s hand tightened around the small dagger hidden under her shawl.

"I serve no house, no crown," the man continued. "But I bring a warning: those you trust are not as loyal as you believe."

Liora narrowed her eyes. "Meaning?"

The man threw a small pouch onto the table with a clink. Coins but not local ones. She recognized the foreign etchings immediately.

"Gold from across the southern sea," he said. "Paid to certain ministers and nobles. Treason is not coming it has already begun."

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