Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 164: She could be a trap

Chapter 164: She could be a trap

Queen Ellora moved like a vision through the late afternoon mist, her steps quiet along the marble path that cut through the palace’s eastern gardens. Roses, white ones, boomed around her in immaculate silence, and the breeze carried the scent of jasmine and old secrets.

A step behind her walked her advisor, Lord Cassien Vale, a man with salt in his dark hair and a voice always tempered with polite venom.

"You received the note," he said, as though commenting on the weather.

Ellora didn’t look at him. "I did."

"Shall I assume the king hasn’t seen it yet?"

She paused at a fountain carved with a griffin’s head, the water still running. "He doesn’t need to," she said. "Not yet."

Cassien studied her carefully. "You’re not going to tell him that the girl is alive? That she’s here?"

"Liora Miral is insignificant. She was discarded once. She’ll vanish again."

"But she’s with Lucien now."

That stilled Ellora. For a second, her hand tightened around her fan, the only crack in her perfectly painted expression.

"Of course she is," she said finally, with a breathless little laugh. "She always did fall in love with cages."

Liora crouched behind a row of hedges, hidden in the shadow of a stone cherub. Norra knelt beside her, one hand resting on the hilt of her dagger.

"I told you sneaking into the palace gardens was a bad idea," Norra whispered. "The queen has eyes everywhere. That man with her, he’s dangerous."

"I know," Liora murmured. "Cassien Vale. He was Lucien’s mentor once. And the one who testified against him."

Norra looked surprised. "The same man?"

Liora nodded. "He fed the council the idea that Lucien plotted treason. That he was behind his wife’s death. He handed him over to the wolves."

A pause. Norra’s voice lowered. "So why not kill him?"

Liora didn’t answer.

Because she knew the truth was more dangerous than any blade.

She didn’t want Cassien dead.

She wanted him to confess.

That night, beneath the flickering oil lamps of their makeshift tent, Lucien listened without interrupting as Liora recounted everything: the queen’s garden walk, the hidden conversation, and the casual dismissal of her return.

Lucien’s face darkened. "She’s underestimating you."

"No," Liora replied. "She’s playing the long game."

Lucien stood, shadows falling across his face. "Then so will we."

Rowan entered just then, tossing a rolled scroll on the table. "Intercepted message. From the Queen’s wing. Guess who she’s sending to the border outpost?"

Lucien opened the scroll. His eyes narrowed. "Cassien Vale."

"She’s getting rid of him?" Norra asked.

"No," Lucien said slowly. "She’s hiding him."

Liora stepped closer. "Then we follow."

"No," Lucien turned to her. "You’ll stay here."

The words hit like a slap.

"I’ve gotten this far without your permission, Lucien," she said, voice sharp.

"This isn’t about permission. It’s about protection."

She stepped closer, eyes flashing. "I’m not your concubine anymore. I’m your ally."

Lucien looked at her, long and quiet, before he finally spoke.

"Then act like it," he said. "Don’t throw yourself into a trap when we’re this close."

But Liora’s eyes didn’t soften.

Because she wasn’t afraid of walking into the fire anymore.

She had become it.

At the border outpost, Cassien arrives with guards and secrets, but he’s not alone for long. In the woods beyond, a woman dressed as a merchant carries more than medicine. She carries the final piece of the tapestry that damned Lucien Blackthorne.

The moon hung low as mist crept over the pine-covered borderlands. The outpost loomed ahead, grey stone swallowed by moss and time, guarded not by loyal soldiers but by shadows loyal to a queen.

Cassien Vale dismounted slowly, brushing dust from his cloak. The captain at the gates saluted him stiffly.

"Any signs of unrest?" Cassien asked.

"None, my lord. But the villagers whisper of... a pale ghost," the captain replied, hesitant.

Cassien arched a brow. "A ghost?"

"They say she’s a merchant who asks no coin. Just questions."

Cassien’s eyes narrowed. He turned without a word, boots thudding as he entered the stronghold.

Disguised in a long cloak, her hair dyed dull brown and tucked beneath a scarf, Liora had arrived at the borderlands with Norra trailing discreetly behind. They played the part of a traveling apothecary and her jittery helper, offering herbal medicines and listening to every whispered rumor in return.

It didn’t take long to hear the name.

"Cassien," a drunken guard slurred near a tavern fire. "He’ll arrive with the full moon. Queen’s orders. Something valuable he’s bringing back."

"What kind of valuable?" Norra? she asked, voice pitched high with feigned naivety.

The man laughed. "Don’t know. Could be a prisoner. Could be a message. All I know is, he doesn’t want anyone to see his hands."

Liora crouched beneath the beams of an abandoned chapel near the edge of the woods, sketching the outpost’s structure from memory.

"Guards here," she murmured. "And here. The delivery carts pass through only once a day."

Norra leaned over her shoulder. "You really want to sneak inside?"

"We’re not just watching," Liora said firmly. "We’re getting that message. If he’s carrying something for the queen... it’s worth the risk."

A voice cut through the quiet. "Then you’ll need a key."

Both women turned sharply. In the arch of the ruined chapel stood Rowan, arms folded, cloak soaked from the rain.

"Lucien sent you?" Norra asked.

"No," Rowan said. "He didn’t know I followed. But if you’re planning to go in, you’ll need more than courage. You’ll need to see what Cassien carries."

He stepped closer, pulling a small metal pendant from beneath his collar.

"The crest of the queen’s inner council," he said. "It’ll open the southern lock."

Liora took it from his hand, her fingers brushing the cold metal.

"You believe in me now?" she asked quietly.

Rowan’s eyes held hers. "I believe in what Lucien’s fighting for. And you’ve become part of that."

Cassien unrolled a silk-bound message on a hidden desk. The ink shimmered faintly.

Deliver the contents within two weeks. Burn everything else. If he knows, silence him.

He looked up at a locked chest beside him. Inside, wrapped in cloth, was a broken corner of a tapestry, charred at the edges, but unmistakable.

The Blackthorne crest woven in gold.

Cassien’s jaw clenched.

"The past always finds its way back," he whispered.

And he didn’t yet know...

It already had.

The rain had stopped just past midnight, leaving the forest glistening with dew and eerie silence. A fog coiled low around the outpost as Liora, Norra, and Rowan moved under the cover of trees, shadows navigating shadows.

The southern gate was less guarded, just as Rowan said.

"Two men," he whispered. "One patrols clockwise. The other’s half-asleep."

Norra smirked. "I’ll take the sleepy one."

"No killing," Liora said sharply. "We’re not leaving blood behind. Not yet."

Norra rolled her eyes but nodded.

Rowan produced the pendant and slipped it into the gate’s lock. It clicked open with a soft snap.

They slipped inside.

The interior was worse than expected, dark, cramped, and damp with mold. But the real horror came in the form of cells lining the east wing. Each was barely more than a stone box, the iron bars cold with condensation. Most were empty.

One cell near the end still had a flickering oil lamp lit outside it.

Rowan held up a hand to signal stillness. Voices echoed from nearby, two guards chatting idly around the corner.

"...can’t believe she’s still breathing."

"I thought she died in the fire."

"Cassien says not to speak of her. Says she’s a ghost now."

Liora’s breath caught.

She inched forward to peek between the bars, and what she saw made her blood run cold.

A woman, frail but unmistakably noble in posture, sat chained at the wrists. Her skin was pale, her dark hair matted, but her eyes were alert.

"I know her," Liora whispered.

Rowan tensed beside her. "Who is she?"

"...Althea Blackthorne."

Lucien’s first wife.

The woman they all thought had died in the fire.

Smoke. Screaming. Guards shouting. Lucien had burst into the burning wing, trying to get to Althea’s chamber. But all they’d found was charred cloth and blood. Not a body. Just signs of death.

Cassien had sworn she’d perished.

Lucien had never seen her body.

And now... here she was.

Alive, and present.

"We get her out," Liora said. "Now."

Rowan hesitated. "She could be a trap."

"I don’t care," Liora snapped. "Lucien mourned her. If she’s alive, he deserves the truth."

Norra pulled out her lockpicks, kneeling quickly.

"I’ve got thirty seconds before those guards come back."

Click....Click.

The cell door opened.

The woman inside lifted her head weakly. "You shouldn’t be here."

"We could say the same to you," Rowan muttered.

Liora stepped inside. "Althea. We’re friends of Lucien. You’re safe now."

Althea gave a dry, broken laugh. "Safe? Not in this kingdom. And not while Cassien still lives."

She pulled something from beneath her torn sleeve.

A sliver of the tapestry. Burnt. Marked with blood.

"This," she whispered, placing it into Liora’s hand, "is what they tortured me for. The truth stitched in gold."

Outside the cell, footsteps pounded.

"They’ve noticed," Norra said sharply. "We have to run."

"Not run," Rowan corrected grimly. "Fight our way out."