Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 83: Send word

Chapter 83: Send word

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

Liora stiffened, her mind racing.

"Why tell me?" she demanded. "Why not, Lucien?"

The man laughed, a hollow, almost pitying sound.

"Because they watch him. Every step, every breath. You, however... they see you as harmless." He leaned closer. "They underestimate you."

Before Liora could speak again, he threw a folded map onto the table.

"Proof," he said. "A shipment arriving within days. Smuggled weapons. Men hiding under the banners of trade."

The lantern flickered, throwing wild shadows across the room.

"Take it. Show it to Lucien if you dare."

And with that, the man turned and vanished through a side door before she could react.

Liora stood frozen for a moment, staring at the map. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.

The weight of it hit her fully; this was no childish attempt at playing heroine. This was treason. War. Death.

If she were caught carrying this, it could mean execution, no trial, no mercy.

Still, she folded the map tightly against her chest.

For Lucien. For Alden’s throne. And, perhaps, for herself for the girl she refused to remain.

With silent steps, she made her way back through the shadows, her heart hammering louder than her footsteps.

But unseen eyes watched her from the darkness, a smirk tugging at unseen lips.

The first move had been made. The game was beginning.

Liora slipped down the narrow staircase, every creak of the wood making her flinch.

She could not be seen, not here, no where. The map burned against her chest like a brand.

As she neared the main hallway, she paused in the shadows, waiting for the patrolling guards to pass. Rowan had tightened security recently after the hints of unrest, making it harder to move undetected even within Lucien’s estate.

A few more steps, and she would reach the corridor leading back to her chambers.

"Going somewhere, Lady Liora?"

The low voice from behind made her freeze.

She turned slowly, heart thundering, and came face-to-face with Samuel, Lucien’s other confidant.

His keen eyes immediately dropped to the slight bulge hidden under her shawl.

"I... I needed some air," she stammered, stepping sideways instinctively.

Samuel raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.

"At this hour?" he asked softly. "Near the east tower?"

A sharp, tense silence stretched between them.

Samuel’s gaze sharpened. He was no fool.

"I won’t ask you twice," he said quietly. "Give me whatever it is you’re hiding."

Liora’s fingers clutched the map tighter. Trust no one," the cloaked man’s warning echoed in her mind.

But Samuel... Samuel had always seemed loyal to Lucien.

Or had he?

Could she risk it?

She weighed her options, seconds ticking away like a pendulum of fate and slowly withdrew the folded map from her shawl.

Samuel took it carefully, his fingers brushing hers for the briefest moment. He unfolded it, his brows furrowing as he took in the markings.

"This is... serious," he muttered.

He lifted his eyes to hers, and for the first time, Liora saw genuine alarm in his expression.

"Come," Samuel said abruptly, his voice low and urgent. "We must take this to Lord Lucien. Now. Before anyone else gets wind of it."

Meanwhile, in the private chambers of Alden’s palace, far from the estate, a very different scene unfolded.

Beatrice knelt before Queen Dowager Lilian, her head bowed low.

"Everything is proceeding, Your Grace," Beatrice reported, her voice smooth. "The court’s attention is entirely fixed on Lucien’s estate. Rumors of rebellion, whispers of foreign alliances... all well-seeded."

Lilian sat back in her chair, her elegant fingers tapping against the armrest.

"Good," she murmured. "Keep the eyes turned toward him. The real threat lies elsewhere and I will not have it discovered before it’s too late."

Beatrice hesitated before speaking again.

"And the girl, Liora?"

A shadow crossed Lilian’s face.

"Monitor her. If she becomes... inconvenient, we will deal with her quietly."

Beatrice bowed lower, hiding the flicker of unease in her eyes.

Sometimes, pawns were sacrificed for the greater game.

And Lilian was a master at the game.

The quiet of Lucien’s study fractured as Rowan entered, his face grim. He gave a brief bow to Liora before speaking to Lucien.

"The east docks burned tonight," he said. "Two of the warehouses marked on this map, gone. Set it ablaze before dawn. No survivors found."

Lucien’s jaw tightened. Liora paled.

"Someone’s trying to erase evidence," she said.

Rowan nodded. "Or silence mouths."

Lucien turned away, pacing to the hearth as shadows flickered across the room. "They’re moving faster than we expected. Whoever controls this smuggling ring... they’re tied to someone high up. Someone bold enough to burn royal property without consequence."

Rowan hesitated. "There’s more. Samuel sent word to the king early this morning."

Lucien turned sharply. "What?"

"He claimed someone from your household was spotted wandering the restricted tower at night," Rowan said. "A veiled accusation ...no names given, but it won’t take much for the court to guess."

Liora flinched.

Lucien’s hand clenched. "They’re painting us as conspirators."

Rowan gave a small nod. "And it worked. You’re to appear at the next court session. Not as a noble prince. As a witness. Possibly... a suspect."

Lucien’s expression darkened, but it was Liora who broke the silence.

"Then we strike first."

Both men turned to her.

She stepped forward, steady now. "There’s someone who knows more. The man who gave me the map. He said he once worked in the Trade Ministry, an upper minister’s discarded scribe. He named a man: Lord Halden Verden, a powerful figure close to Queen Ellora."

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. "Verden? He’s untouchable."

"No one is untouchable," Lucien said. "If Verden’s the link between the smuggling ring and the court, we’ll cut the chain. Quietly."

Liora added, "We need records. Letters. Anything that ties Verden to foreign trade."

"I can plant someone inside his manor," Rowan offered. "There’s a new servant intake this week. I’ll have Marin go."

Lucien gave a single nod.

"And I’ll handle the court," he said, his voice colder now. "Let them accuse me. Let Alden glare from his throne and wonder if he’s losing his grip. They think I’m the old disgraced prince, a shell of who I was."

Liora stepped to his side. "Then let’s show them what that shell is capable of."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Lucien reached out and took her hand, a rare gesture. One not of romance, but alliance.

"This ends with the guilty exposed," he said.

Liora’s eyes burned with resolve. "Or the kingdom crumbling."

In the shadows of the court, meanwhile, Queen Ellora paced behind the privacy of her lacquered screens. She had received the same report Samuel sent to the king. But unlike Alden, she didn’t believe Lucien would stoop to treason.

No, this felt... orchestrated.

Too clean. Too pointed.

She called for her steward.

"Send word to Lord Verden," she said. "I want to speak with him. Alone."

Because if there was one thing Ellora hated more than her husband’s half-brother... It was being played.

The great marble halls of the palace buzzed with cautious footsteps as dawn broke over the capital. Court proceedings hadn’t started yet, but the corridors swelled with whispered rumors.

The fire at the east docks had stirred something deeper not just ash and smoke, but old suspicions from darker days.

Lucien, dressed in simple black with no visible crest, strode toward the courtroom gates with Rowan at his flank. The symbolism wasn’t missed. He had once worn silk and silver here, now, only sharp cloth and colder eyes.

"Samuel will try to pin the docks fire on you," Rowan said under his breath. "But the real motive is to shift the court’s attention. Something else is happening behind the curtains."

Lucien nodded once. "I know."

Inside the court chamber, King Alden already sat high on the throne, flanked by Queen Ellora and the ever-watchful council of ministers. On the lowest platform, Samuel stood smug, reading a parchment aloud.

"...And so it is noted that the eastern warehouses under temporary jurisdiction of House Blackthorne were reduced to cinders at the fourth bell, with one survivor claiming to see a cloaked figure fleeing toward the old guard quarters, a location tied to the late former princess..."

Ellora’s expression tightened, but she said nothing. Lucien’s lips twitched at the corner. They were reaching and they were desperate.

"Is Prince Lucien Blackthorne present?" Samuel’s voice rang out, mocking in its forced neutrality.

"I stand here," Lucien replied, stepping into the open chamber.

Heads turned. Some out of curiosity. Others, fear.

"And do you deny that your estate once oversaw the now-destroyed docks?"

"I do not," Lucien said calmly. "But oversight is not guilt, Minister Samuel, Or shall we call for Queen Ellora, under whose marriage alliance those trade routes were legitimized?"

Gasps rippled.

Alden narrowed his eyes, but did not speak.

Samuel paled just slightly. "This is no jest, my lord. This is a charge of royal treason."

"And yet no proof," Lucien cut in, stepping further into the light. "No ledger. No seal. Just a frightened worker’s tale, and ashes."

He turned, locking eyes with Alden.

"Your Majesty, allow me to speak freely. Not to clear my name, but to lay forth a threat that may bleed this kingdom from within."

The room hushed.

Lucien drew a scroll from inside his coat and handed it to the king’s attendant.

"This," he said, "was recovered by a former Trade Ministry scribe. It details covert trade dealings signed by Lord Verden..with a foreign merchant fleet known to harbor rebels and pirates."

Silence fell like a sword.

Ellora’s fingers twitched.

Alden unrolled the scroll. His face changed slowly, methodically. Then he looked up at Samuel.

"Is this true?"

"I.. I have never seen this document before..."

"That is not what I asked," Alden snapped.

Outside the chamber walls, Marin, disguised in a plain wool apron, was already stepping through the kitchens of Lord Verden’s manor, blending in with the other servants. A bundle of notes lay hidden beneath her corset, and in her pocket — a vial of wax meant to copy a seal.

Because while court argued, someone had to dig.