Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 94: Forced to run.

Chapter 94: Forced to run.

"We weren’t expecting an envoy."

"Exactly," Samuel added. "And she’s not alone. She brings a diplomat from Aradel. Unannounced."

That made Lucien rise.

"Aradel hasn’t sent a diplomat since the last treaty."

"And they wouldn’t now," Rowan said, "unless something changed. Quiet alliances don’t stay quiet forever."

Lucien’s gaze drifted to the window.

The court was about to fracture again.

And this time, it would not be because of petty noble disputes or old bloodlines. This time, it would be coin, war, and foreign hands trying to pull the strings.

"We meet them tonight," Lucien said. "And no word of this leaves this room."

Liora stepped closer. "You trust me to be there?"

Lucien didn’t answer immediately. He simply looked at her.

And then, quietly, "Yes."

From across the city, the envoy stepped out of the carriage, silver veil fluttering in the breeze, and offered her hand to the diplomat beside her.

Together, they would enter a palace riddled with secrets.

And shake the balance of power just as they were sent to do.

The grand hall had never been this quiet not even during the king’s winter court. Silence stretched taut as the southern envoy stepped beneath the arched doors, flanked by two neutral guards bearing no house sigil.

Alden sat atop the dais, flanked by his advisors. His expression was unreadable, but one hand tapped his throne’s armrest, a habit Lucien recognized all too well. Impatience masked as restraint.

Lucien stood at the left, arms folded, gaze sharp. Liora stood to the side, hidden behind a curtain lattice meant for the ladies-in-waiting. She wasn’t supposed to be there.

But neither was the envoy.

"Lady Saelis of Irvale," the herald announced, "and her diplomatic companion, Master Cael of Aradel."

Murmurs rustled through the gathered court.

Aradel. That was no minor province. It was a coastal ally from across the sea, and if they were here unsummoned, it meant the storm had begun to gather.

The woman stepped forward. Her silver veil remained, but her voice carried.

"Your Majesty," she said in perfect courtly dialect, "I come with tidings of concern. A faction moves in your south, gathering ships and gold, and not in your name."

Alden frowned. "My southern lords have sworn their loyalty. Who dares such a claim?"

The woman extended a sealed scroll. "One of your own, I’m afraid."

Rowan, who stood behind the throne, accepted it and passed it to the king.

Lucien watched Alden’s face as he opened it, how his brows creased.

"How did you come by this?" the king asked, his voice quieter now.

The envoy’s companion, the Aradelian, stepped forward. "We intercepted communications sent to the port of Vindrel. The seal was familiar to us; it matched that of Lord Corvane."

Liora flinched. So did Lucien.

The nobleman who had once served as treasurer, now demoted and supposedly sent to his estate, was not only active but seemingly working against the crown.

Alden handed the letter to Lucien, who scanned it quickly.

It was worse than he expected.

Names. Ports. Timelines. And payments traced to merchant guilds known to fund piracy in the southeastern archipelago.

"Lord Corvane may not be alone," Lucien said aloud, breaking the silence. "Several lords were dismissed quietly after the border famines. If this rebellion...or... coup...is to be believed, it’s been planned longer than we assumed."

Alden sat back. "And why would you, Lady Saelis, risk your safety to bring us this?"

The veil shifted just slightly. A glimpse of amber eyes.

"Because Irvale may be poor, Your Majesty," she said, "but we are not fools. If your court falls, so too does our trade. And I was there ten years ago when the fire reached our doors. I will not see it happen again."

The court fell silent.

Alden finally nodded.

"You will be housed in the west wing. An audience shall be granted again at first light. Until then, no word of this leaves these walls."

Lucien stepped forward as the woman bowed.

Their eyes met just briefly, something familiar lingering in hers.

But before he could place it, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the marble floor like the whisper of war.

That night, the castle didn’t sleep.

Not the guards, who had doubled in number around every corner.Not the servants, who whispered in frightened tones about letters, rebellions, and veiled women with dangerous news.And certainly not Lucien.

He stood in the quiet of his chambers, the stolen letter laid across his desk. The seal had long been broken, the handwriting familiar.

Corvane...That snake.

Lucien had once trusted him. Not entirely, but enough to believe he was just a greedy coward, not a treasonous one.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

It was Rowan. "You should see this," he said without preamble, handing over another note, this one intercepted from a courier attempting to leave the eastern gate.

Lucien read it, his jaw tightening.

Another letter to a border baron, sealed with the same odd wax mixture Corvane used to mark private ledgers. The message was vague but referenced troop movements and coded entries of gold shipments.

"They’re coordinating with someone inside the palace," Lucien muttered.

Rowan nodded grimly. "You suspect someone in the council?"

"Possibly. Or someone with direct access to council correspondence."

Samuel entered next, his expression troubled. "There’s more. We questioned the envoy’s companion. He’s real, Aradelian by birth, but he isn’t a diplomat. He’s former military. Served during the Black Coast raids."

Lucien arched a brow. "So why pretend otherwise?"

"He says he’s protecting the envoy. Claims she’s not just a noble messenger but an exile with enemies in the southern guilds."

Lucien stared at the flickering candlelight. The web was tightening, too many players with too many motives.

And then a quieter voice spoke from the back of the room.

Liora stood near the drapes, her arms folded tightly.

"She’s hiding something," she said. "I heard the servants. The envoy, Saelis, refused food and didn’t remove her veil, even in private. Some of the maids claim she speaks our tongue too fluently for someone from Irvale."

Lucien’s gaze sharpened. "Then we keep her watched."

"Or," Liora said softly, stepping closer, "we confront her, off the record. Let me speak to her. Woman to woman. She might say more to me than she would to a soldier."

Rowan looked skeptical. "That’s a risk."

"She’s already a risk," Liora replied. "At least this way, we choose the timing."Lucien considered her words. He didn’t like it. But he also trusted her instincts more than most of the king’s council.

"Very well," he said. "You’ll meet her at dawn. Rowan will be nearby. If she tries anything...",

"She won’t," Liora said.

But her heart was already pounding because something about the envoy felt familiar, too familiar.

And if she was right... then the betrayal wasn’t only against Alden. It was personal.

The antechamber was dimly lit, save for the slant of golden morning light that crept through the carved window panels. Liora stood alone at first, her fingers tapping against the smooth wood of the armrest, her mind rehearsing questions she hadn’t yet formed.

The envoy, Saelis, entered, graceful and deliberate. She wore a new gown, but the veil still shrouded her face. Even in the neutral tones of cream and ochre, her presence felt deliberate, staged.

Liora rose, offering a polite tilt of her head. "Lady Saelis."

The envoy inclined hers. "Lady Liora."

No guards, no attendants. Rowan was stationed behind the side wall with a thin slit in the panel, close enough if something went wrong. But Liora wasn’t afraid. Her gut whispered there was more to be gained with silence than swords.

"I thought it might be easier," Liora began, "to speak without the weight of titles and politics."

A pause.

"Yet you still brought a blade with you," Saelis said coolly, her gaze slipping to the hidden dagger at Liora’s belt.

"I’m married to a man who makes enemies in his sleep," Liora replied evenly. "It’s not personal."

Another pause. A faint hum of approval behind the veil.

Saelis walked to the window and placed a gloved hand on the sill. "I expected you to be more naïve."

"I was," Liora said. "But then I learned being underestimated keeps you alive."

At that, Saelis turned. "You didn’t summon me to trade barbed words. Say what you came to say."

Liora stepped forward. "You’re not from Irvale."

"Irvale is large."

"You speak our dialect too perfectly. You knew the guards’ schedules. And the man you arrived with? He’s not your cousin. He’s your captain."

Saelis was still. Then...very softly....she laughed.

"I didn’t expect you to be sharp," she murmured. "But yes. You’re right. I am not who I claimed to be."

She reached up and tugged her veil aside.

Liora blinked.

The woman’s face was not unfamiliar. Not exactly. Sharp cheekbones, a scar just above her right brow, and eyes like polished flint.

"You were once part of the Velderan court," Liora whispered. "I saw you in one of the tapestries... the union conference in the Eastern Isles."

"Years ago," Saelis admitted. "Before I was forced to run."