Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 159: You carried a message

Chapter 159: You carried a message

"You said you wanted to help me," he said.

"I did."

"Then stay away from Elias Marwood."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because," he said without hesitation, "if he knows you matter to me... even a little, he’ll use you."

Liora stared at him.

"Do I matter?" she asked quietly.

Lucien turned to face her. For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he handed her the scroll and said, "That’s the list of families who supported my exile. I want you to memorize them."

She took it, confused.

"I thought we were talking about Elias."

"We are," he said. "He’s tied to two of those names."

"And you want me to stay away because you care... or because I’m a liability?"

Lucien looked at her like she’d asked something dangerous. Then he murmured, "Both."

Before she could react, Rowan burst in.

"There’s a messenger from the royal court," he said, out of breath. "He bears the king’s seal."

Lucien’s expression darkened instantly.

"From Alden?" he asked.

Rowan nodded. "And... another envoy arrived. From Norwain."

That made Lucien pause.

"Now what would that vulture of a kingdom want here?" he muttered.

Liora clutched the scroll in her hand tighter.

The quiet game at Petra... was now starting to echo in louder places.

The royal messenger was a young man, barely in his twenties, dressed in the deep navy blue of the king’s personal court his gloves pristine, his eyes sharp with the practiced confidence of someone used to being the center of attention. He stood near the grand entry hall of Petra Estate, bearing an ornate scroll sealed with the king’s crest.

Lucien descended the staircase with calm precision, followed by Rowan and a visibly alert Samuel. Liora stood a little farther back, clutching the scroll he had given her moments ago. She didn’t know why, but something about the way Lucien’s shoulders had stiffened after Rowan’s announcement made her uneasy.

The messenger bowed deeply. "His Majesty, King Alden Blackthorne, extends his word to Lord Lucien of Petra."

Lucien arched an eyebrow. "I was stripped of that title."

The messenger looked up with a nervous smile. "Forgive me... sir. His Majesty requests your presence at the upcoming Council Summit. It is to be held at Caerwyn Palace in seven days’ time. His orders are clear your attendance is mandatory."

"Of course they are," Lucien murmured, taking the scroll and turning it in his hand without opening it. "Is that all?"

"No, my lord. A separate envoy from Norwain has arrived at the southern border. They’ve requested... a private audience with the Petra estate."

Rowan frowned. "That’s bold."

"Too bold," Lucien replied coldly. "Norwain hasn’t sent an envoy in two years. They wouldn’t dare approach unless they were desperate... or planning something."

Liora leaned toward Samuel and whispered, "Where is Norwain?"

"A rival kingdom across the southern marshes," Samuel replied under his breath. "Power-hungry and always sniffing out weak spots in the crown."

Lucien’s eyes met Liora’s. She quickly looked away.

He turned to the messenger. "You’ll be given a room for the night. Rowan will see to it. I’ll send my reply by morning."

The young man bowed once again, handed the scroll, and followed Rowan out.

As the heavy door closed, Lucien exhaled, walking toward the fireplace. He finally broke the seal and read Alden’s summons.

Samuel stood behind him. "Do you think this is about the envoy?"

"No," Lucien muttered, scanning the contents. "It’s about Liora."

The room fell into a pin-drop silence.

"What?" she asked, startled.

Lucien didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked to her and took the scroll from her hands the one listing the traitorous families. He glanced at it and then looked into her eyes.

"Do you remember the name Levardin?" he asked.

"Yes... it’s on the list."

"Good," he said. "Because the envoy from Norwain he bears that name."

Liora’s heart skipped a beat.

Lucien turned to Samuel. "Double the guards. Keep every gate sealed. If Norwain has sent a Levardin to Petra, it’s not diplomacy...it’s bait."

"And you, Lucien?" Samuel asked.

Lucien’s jaw tightened. "I’m going to make sure Petra doesn’t swallow it."

Behind them, the fire hissed as if in warning.

And Liora? She wasn’t sure if she was the bait, the piece being protected or the hidden weapon.

Night cloaked Petra Estate in a heavy stillness. The usual silence of the halls now felt loaded like the estate itself was listening. The presence of the Norwain envoy had disturbed something delicate, and though Lucien hadn’t spoken of it again since the council scroll arrived, everyone could sense the shift.

Samuel paced along the outer corridor, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword. "The man bearing the Levardin name... he travels under the guise of trade?"

Rowan nodded, keeping his voice low. "Trade and cultural exchange. A lie so thin it could bleed through parchment. He arrived with only two guards, but one of them was hiding a dagger laced with voidroot."

"Poison?" Samuel asked, sharply.

Rowan nodded again. "Fast-acting. A single prick can send a man to his grave in under a minute."

They exchanged a long look. This wasn’t a diplomatic visit. This was reconnaissance or worse, a warning.

Inside the estate’s eastern study, Lucien stood before the old map that hung along the stone wall. Candles flickered beside it, throwing shadows across his face. Liora was seated by the hearth, quietly watching him.

He hadn’t spoken to her much since earlier, but she noticed the tension in his stance the way his hand rested on the edge of the map, knuckles pale.

Liora finally broke the silence. "You knew a Levardin before, didn’t you?"

Lucien didn’t turn to look at her. "He was once my tutor. A cousin to the royal advisor from Norwain. Brilliant man... but cunning. He was exiled after he was caught feeding false intelligence to our court."

"Then why send a Levardin now?" she asked.

"To unsettle me." Lucien’s voice was cold. "To remind me that the past isn’t buried. That every wound has a scar someone can press."

There was a pause. Liora stood slowly, walking closer. "You think I’m part of that scar?"

Lucien turned to her at last. His eyes usually so guarded held something unreadable. "I think you’re standing in the crossfire."

That hurt. But she understood.

Before either could speak again, a soft knock interrupted them. Rowan stepped inside. "The envoy is asking for an audience."

"Tonight?"

Rowan gave a single nod. "He says it must be before dawn. Claims he’s here to deliver a message from someone within Norwain’s royal court. He won’t say more."

Lucien’s lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. "Desperate, arrogant, or suicidal."

Rowan added, "He requested you receive him alone."

"Then he’s all three."

Liora stepped forward. "You won’t meet him alone, right?"

Lucien glanced her way. "No, not truly." He nodded toward the curtained balcony. "You’ll be there, hidden. I want you to watch how vipers speak."

And so, plans were set.

The envoy would be received before dawn.

But Petra... Petra would not sleep. Not tonight.

The air was still as a blade sharp, quiet, waiting to cut.

Liora crouched behind the thick curtains of the study’s balcony, hidden by heavy velvet and the shadows that came with early dawn. Below, the candles were trimmed low, and Lucien stood at the center of the room like a statue carved from night itself expression unreadable, arms behind his back, posture crisp with contained wariness.

The door creaked open.

The Norwain envoy stepped inside, his boots clicking gently on the polished floor. He was a tall man with high cheekbones and a scholar’s poise, but there was something mocking in the tilt of his mouth and the lazy confidence with which he removed his gloves.

"Lord Blackthorne," he said, as if they were friends. As if the years hadn’t burned and bled between them.

Lucien didn’t return the smile. "Speak."

The envoy chuckled. "Straight to it, I see. Your estate is... isolated. Almost haunting. But beautiful. As expected of a Blackthorne."

Lucien tilted his head. "You said you carried a message."

"I do." The envoy produced a sealed parchment with a purple ribbon Norwain’s royal seal imprinted in wax. "From one of our council ministers... but more than that, I come with an offer."

Lucien didn’t take the letter yet. "An offer?"

"Yes," the man said, voice lower now, eyes glinting. "To trade knowledge. We’ve heard whispers. That your brother the High King plans to remarry. That he sees Petra as a thorn, and your presence here... inconvenient."

Lucien’s jaw tensed slightly. "You’re suggesting treason."

"I’m suggesting survival," the envoy corrected smoothly. "And perhaps... revenge."

From behind the curtain, Liora watched, hands clenched at her chest. This man was dangerous. Not because of the dagger at his side, but because of the ease in his words, the way he tried to plant doubt like seeds into Lucien’s mind.

Lucien finally stepped forward and took the parchment, tearing the seal without ceremony. His eyes skimmed it, flicking line by line until they halted at the bottom.

He folded it back slowly. "You’ve come a long way to insult me."

"I’ve come to offer alliance," the envoy said, stepping closer. "Petra is strong, but it is not safe. Norwain sees value in men who are... discarded."

Lucien smirked darkly. "I’m not discarded. I am simply in wait."

The envoy bowed slightly, a glint of amusement still in his gaze. "So be it. But know this should you ever need a true kingdom, Norwain is watching. Listening."

With that, he turned and walked out.

Only once the door shut did Liora step out from behind the curtain. Her heart was pounding not from fear, but from the bitter weight of truth that filled the room.

Lucien looked at her. "You heard it all?"

She nodded. "Do you think your brother really...."

"He’s always thought of Petra as a loose end," Lucien said softly. "But no... not yet. He doesn’t dare touch me unless he’s sure the court will follow."

Liora took a step closer. "And the envoy?"

"He plays a long game," Lucien said. "One I’ve played before."

"But he mentioned revenge." Her voice was gentle. "Is that what this still is to you?"

Lucien turned to her, and for once his gaze wasn’t sharp, but tired. Honest.

"It’s survival, Liora. That... and something I owe."

He didn’t explain further.

And neither did she ask.

Because both of them knew, revenge and survival were often the same thing.