Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 162: Only way

Chapter 162: Only way

"But you don’t know the way..."

"I don’t care."

Norra hesitated again. "Then let me come with you. I know the path. If I take the messenger’s route through the eastern trail, we can reach the ridge faster than the main road."

Liora studied the young woman for a beat longer. Clumsy as she seemed, Norra’s hands were steady. Her eyes burned with something genuine, loyalty, perhaps, or guilt.

She nodded once. "We leave before dawn."

That night, while the estate slept under a veil of false quiet, Liora packed only what she needed—a dagger hidden in the lining of her dress, the letter from Lucien, and the cloth. She didn’t wake Beatrice or Samuel. She didn’t trust who might be listening.

And as she slipped into the stables, where Norra waited with two saddled horses, Liora could only pray that Lucien wasn’t already too deep into whatever darkness waited in Petra.

Unaware of how close he was to being swallowed whole

The forest before dawn was a shadowy cathedral of hush and rustling leaves. Mist curled low over the earth like wary spirits keeping close to the ground. Norra rode slightly ahead, her posture awkward but determined, one hand clutching the reins while the other clutched a satchel far too big for someone so petite.

Liora followed in silence, her senses on high alert.

This wasn’t a quiet ride to deliver a message. It felt like the beginning of a hunt, though whether they were the hunters or the hunted remained unclear.

"You’ve taken this path before?" Liora asked finally, breaking the long silence.

"Once. When my father fell ill, I rode to the old apothecary near Petra. But I didn’t go all the way up to the ridge," Norra admitted. "They say the trees up there whisper if you ride alone. Something about cursed soil."

Liora scoffed lightly. "Superstition."

"Maybe." Norra twisted around in her saddle. "But something is wrong with that land. You’ll feel it too."

They continued for hours, the path narrowing as the sun rose behind a heavy sheet of grey clouds. Liora wasn’t sure if it was the weather or the growing dread, but her skin felt colder with every mile.

By midday, they reached the broken stone marker Norra had warned her about, an old relic that once welcomed travelers to the chapel. Now, it leaned sideways, moss clinging to its face, the inscription long erased.

Beyond it, the trees thinned. Wind whispered through the leaves, low and strange, as if carrying secrets spoken too close to graves.

"There," Norra said, pointing.

Liora followed her gaze and froze.

The chapel stood in ruins, only its arching front and a partial steeple remaining. Rubble littered the overgrown yard. But that wasn’t what stole her breath.

It was the man pacing at the edge of the ruin, flanked by two cloaked riders.

He wasn’t Lucien.

But he wore the same sigil as the palace guards.

"We can’t go forward," Liora said under her breath. "They’re not supposed to be here."

"They’re digging," Norra murmured, noticing the loose soil piled to one side. "That wasn’t there when I passed through weeks ago."

Liora dismounted slowly. "Stay with the horses."

"What are you going to do?"

Liora didn’t answer. She slipped around the trees, edging closer, using the broken stone wall as cover.

As she approached, a gust of wind lifted a piece of parchment from the ground, and one of the men snatched it mid-air.

"Tell the lord we’ve found part of it," he said. "But the map was wrong. The markings didn’t lead to the chamber...only the veil. He’ll be furious."

"Let him be," the other rider grunted. "We still have the cloth from the envoy’s body."

Liora’s heart stopped.

The envoy... is dead?

"Lord Kael said the concubine girl might know more." The first rider grinned. "Should we bring her in next?"

Liora ducked before her gasp gave her away. Her knuckles gripped the dagger in her cloak.

Kael...

So it was him pulling the strings in Petra. And now, Lucien was walking straight into a trap with no idea the cloth was already compromised and that she was the next target.

Back at the horses, Norra looked up as Liora returned, pale and breathless.

"Did you see him?"

"No. But I heard enough."

They mounted again.

"Where now?"

Liora didn’t hesitate. "We’re riding straight to Petra’s southern flank. Lucien won’t go through the main gates, not after last time. He’ll take the side route. We need to intercept him before they do."

Norra blinked. "And then?"

Liora’s voice was ice.

"Then we burn whatever web they’re spinning before it wraps around any more throats."

And as they rode through the fog once more, something inside Liora shifted.

This wasn’t just about surviving anymore.

It was war.

The southern flank of Petra was nothing like the polished city square Liora had once passed through in another life; a girl traded for silence, forgotten by blood. Here, the cobbled path was cracked, lined with ash-colored stones and rusted gates. It bore the weight of too many secrets, and now, of her return.

They had ridden hard to reach it before nightfall. Norra’s cheeks were flushed, her fingers sore from gripping reins that burned her palms. Liora hadn’t spoken much, her thoughts spiraling with each mile. Every step brought them closer to the trap Lucien unknowingly approached.

"If he’s using the hidden route, he’ll pass through the southern grove," Liora said as she scanned the growing fog around them. "It’s the only way in without alerting the guards."

Norra nodded. "That grove’s cursed too."

Liora gave a tired smirk. "Everything’s cursed if people are afraid of it."

They reached the bend in the woods where a broken statue of a weeping woman stood half-buried in ivy. This was the path Lucien would take. If he was on time.

"He’ll come," Liora murmured.

"And if he doesn’t?" Norra asked, voice low.

Liora exhaled. "Then I walk straight into Petra and burn the mask off Kael myself."

But the sound of hooves cut through her threat, steady and deliberate, no longer muffled by the soil. Both women turned toward the sound.

He emerged like a shadow into the fading light, his cloak dusted with the road, his posture tense but intact. Behind him, two men followed; one was Rowan, the other a rider Liora didn’t know.

Lucien’s eyes locked on Liora.

She didn’t wait.

"You were walking into a snare," she said sharply. "They’re already inside the ruins. They’ve taken the envoy’s body and used it to claim the cloth. It’s Kael; he’s the one digging."

Lucien didn’t blink. "And the map?"

"They said it only led to a veil, not the chamber itself."

Rowan cursed under his breath.

Lucien dismounted, his boots hitting the ground with finality. "Then he’s still searching."

"He plans to use me next," Liora added. "They spoke of bringing me in."

Lucien stepped closer, his voice low but seething. "He dares."

Rowan handed him a scroll from his bag. "We recovered this from the border checkpoint. One of the guards sold it. Look."

Lucien unfurled it an old sketch of the chapel, marked with runes that mirrored the stitching on the envoy’s cloth.

"It’s part of the map," Lucien said. "Kael didn’t lie about one thing. But he’s not the only one who can read these."

Liora frowned. "You can?"

Lucien looked up. "No. But I know who can."

He turned to her, voice rough. "You need to get inside Petra through the inner court. My brother’s wife, Queen Ellora, may have the other half. And she won’t hand it to a disgraced prince."

Liora blinked. "You want me to ask her?"

"She won’t see me," Lucien said. "But she might see you."

Norra let out a quiet, stunned laugh. "You’re asking her to walk into a pit of snakes."

"She’s done worse," Lucien said. He met Liora’s eyes. "And I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t believe you could."

The forest seemed to quiet around them, the air heavy.

Liora didn’t flinch. "What will you do?"

Lucien’s jaw tightened. "Kael doesn’t know how close we are to unmasking him. I intend to keep it that way."

And as the riders made camp under the grey-touched trees, Liora stood still, eyes fixed on Petra’s distant walls. Tomorrow, she would walk through them not as a forgotten concubine but as a thread woven into something far more dangerous.

The game was shifting.

And she was no longer just a piece.

She was becoming a player.

The next morning came heavy with mist and the scent of pine. Liora stood beside Norra at the edge of a thinning wood, staring across the shallow valley that rolled into Petra’s inner city. The path ahead was quiet too quiet but that’s what made it more dangerous. Silence in Petra was rarely peaceful.

Lucien approached from behind, fastening the last strap on his gauntlet. "If you go in through the old infirmary route, you can reach the palace’s inner halls without raising questions. That wing’s abandoned to most now."

"Won’t that raise suspicion if I’m caught wandering there?" Liora asked, fixing her cloak.

Lucien’s gaze flicked toward her. "That’s why you’ll go in with a reason. A healer’s apprentice summoned for a second opinion."

"And who summons me?"

Lucien turned to Samuel, who now approached with a forged seal. "Lord Miras of the council," Samuel said. "He fell ill two days ago. Queen Ellora had her personal medic assigned, but he’s old and cautious. You’ll be the quiet one checking on the old man."