Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma-Chapter 157: At the banquet

"I heard from Beatrice," he said. "She showed me the ledger."

Lucien nodded. "And?"

"The handwriting matches High Lord Feran’s steward—Gregor. He’s the only one with both access and reason to use Petra’s resources discreetly." Samuel handed him another sheet of paper. "And this is a note intercepted from one of the outgoing pigeon carriers."

Lucien read it.

’By the eclipse, the northern gates will be breached. Our ally inside Petra confirms silence on their end. The heir will be dealt with last.’

Lucien folded the paper slowly, veins tightening.

"’The heir’... That’s me," he said coldly.

Samuel remained quiet.

"We don’t have time. This is no longer sabotage. It’s a prelude to war."

A knock echoed softly at the door.

It creaked open, and Liora peeked in, her expression hesitant.

"Should I come back later?"

Lucien gestured her in. "You’re already part of this now. You might as well hear everything."

Liora walked closer, glancing at the map. "What’s Caldrien?"

Lucien looked up at her. "A place that was once ours. Betrayed. Burned. Its lords were slaughtered... and its survivors scattered."

"And now?" she asked.

"Now it’s being used again. As a shadow. As a name to gather discontent."

Liora’s gaze dropped to the parchment. "And they want to take Petra?"

Lucien leaned back in his chair, eyes dark. "They want to take more than that. If Petra falls, it opens the corridor to the palace’s western flank. Alden’s crown is within reach. And they’ll make it look like I helped them do it."

Liora’s breath caught. "They’ll make you the traitor."

He nodded once.

A heavy silence filled the room.

Liora finally said, voice soft, "Then let us prove otherwise."

Lucien looked up sharply.

She added, "You said you’re not good at trusting. Maybe it’s time to try."

Samuel gave a half-smile. "She’s braver than most of us were at her age."

Lucien didn’t reply.

But he didn’t send her away either.

Instead, he turned the map toward them.

"We start tonight. We write a new plan. And this time, we stay one step ahead."

As the candlelight swayed, three shadows leaned over the parchment, tracing the fault lines of a kingdom on the edge of war.

And in that moment without vows or promises an unspoken alliance was forged.

One that would either save them all.

Or destroy everything.

The morning light barely broke through the thick clouds that hung low over Petra. The scent of damp earth and the tension of unread letters filled the air. In the war room, the table once meant for peaceful strategies was now littered with scrolls marked with red ink, broken seals, and half-drawn lines.

Lucien stood beside Samuel, eyes fixed on a new letter just delivered by a trusted scout. The seal was foreign, bearing a phoenix surrounded by daggers.

"The Duchy of Varent," Samuel said, brow furrowed. "They’ve stayed neutral since the war ended."

Lucien opened the scroll. His eyes moved swiftly over the text. Then he folded it slowly, a smirk forming on his lips.

"They want to meet," he said. "In three days, under the guise of renewing trade with Petra."

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

"No. They’re testing the water. The Duchy isn’t foolish. They know Petra’s position has shifted since Alden distanced the court from me. They’re coming to see if I’m still the outcast... or if I have power."

Before Samuel could answer, the door opened and Liora stepped in, dressed simply but no longer in maid attire. The bruises on her wrist had faded, but her eyes had only grown sharper.

"You called for me?" she asked, glancing between the two men.

Lucien nodded. "We’re going to host a banquet. Pretend Petra is thriving, stable, and untouched by rebellion. You’ll help."

Liora blinked. "Me?"

Samuel offered her a kind glance. "We need someone who knows how to observe quietly. Someone the guests won’t expect."

Lucien added, "And someone who doesn’t yet carry the stink of nobility. They’ll underestimate you."

A knock interrupted their exchange. Rowan entered, his brows drawn tight.

"There’s another problem," he said, holding up a sealed letter. "From the capital. Lord Vaerin is returning. With a new order from King Alden."

Lucien’s smile dropped.

"What kind of order?"

Rowan’s jaw clenched. "He’s sending an auditor. To examine Petra’s treasury, staff... and concubines."

Liora paled. "That means..."

Lucien snapped the scroll from Rowan’s hand and read it.

"Yes," he muttered, "they want to confirm if I’m misusing crown resources—and if I’m breeding an heir without approval."

Liora stepped back, her heart suddenly racing.

"This is Lilian’s move," Samuel whispered. "If the auditor finds anything out of place, it gives them cause to strip you of the estate... and possibly imprison you."

Lucien looked at Liora, gaze unreadable.

"It seems we need to be more convincing than ever."

Liora’s throat dried. "You mean..."

"You’re going to have to act like the favored concubine," he said flatly. "The one I chose above all others. The one I’d risk my title for."

Samuel added, "And if you do it right... maybe we survive this storm."

Liora didn’t answer immediately. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

But slowly, she nodded.

Her voice was low.

"Then tell me where to begin."

Preparations for the banquet began almost immediately. The estate, once quiet and largely dismissed by the outside world, buzzed with movement. Fresh banners were hung, tapestries cleaned, and food stocks brought in from nearby towns under Lucien’s private allies. It was no longer a place of exile, it was being groomed to look like a sanctuary of power and prosperity.

Liora stood near the veranda that overlooked the inner courtyard, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her new gown. It was elegant, not excessive, deep plum with silver embroidery, selected personally by Samuel to reflect both dignity and modesty.

Rowan approached her with a scroll in hand. "You’ll need to memorize this. It’s a list of noble families attending the banquet as witnesses. And the fabricated version of your background."

"Fabricated?" she asked, taking it from him with a frown.

"You’re no longer a concubine sent by the Queen Dowager," Rowan explained. "You’re now the daughter of a well-respected physician from the West. You met the Prince during one of his border campaigns. He saw your skill and brought you here."

Liora blinked, unsure whether to laugh or tremble. "That’s absurd."

"That’s politics," Rowan replied, voice devoid of humor.

Samuel appeared behind her, fixing the lapel of her outer robe. "Remember, the truth won’t protect you here. But a believable lie just might."

As the men began to walk away, Lucien descended the stairs into the courtyard. He was no longer dressed in his usual black. For the first time in weeks, he wore royal colors deep blue with silver accents, a sign of his claim to nobility.

Liora found her breath catch. There was something dangerous about him today. He wasn’t hiding anymore.

Lucien glanced at her from across the stones and approached with slow, deliberate steps.

"You’ll walk with me tonight," he said.

She hesitated. "At the banquet?"

He nodded. "At my side. All evening. You’ll play your part, smile when needed, speak when spoken to, and never leave my view."

"And if I make a mistake?"

He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Then you’ll have to make them believe it was part of the performance."

Her heart thudded.

The distance between them, so carefully preserved until now, had vanished.

Lucien offered his arm to her an act that would be seen by every servant, every watchful eye that passed.

Liora looked at his arm.

Then she looked up into his face.

She placed her hand over his wrist and stepped forward, matching his pace.

As they began walking through the estate together, the wind blew gently carrying whispers of the rumors already beginning to spread. Petra was no longer silent. And neither was its exiled prince.

Preparations for the banquet began almost immediately. The estate, once quiet and largely dismissed by the outside world, buzzed with movement. Fresh banners were hung, tapestries cleaned, and food stocks brought in from nearby towns under Lucien’s private allies. It was no longer a place of exile, it was being groomed to look like a sanctuary of power and prosperity.

Liora stood near the veranda that overlooked the inner courtyard, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her new gown. It was elegant, not excessive, deep plum with silver embroidery, selected personally by Samuel to reflect both dignity and modesty.

Rowan approached her with a scroll in hand. "You’ll need to memorize this. It’s a list of noble families attending the banquet as witnesses. And the fabricated version of your background."

"Fabricated?" she asked, taking it from him with a frown.

"You’re no longer a concubine sent by the Queen Dowager," Rowan explained. "You’re now the daughter of a well-respected physician from the West. You met the Prince during one of his border campaigns. He saw your skill and brought you here."

Liora blinked, unsure whether to laugh or tremble. "That’s absurd."

"That’s politics," Rowan replied, voice devoid of humor.

Samuel appeared behind her, fixing the lapel of her outer robe. "Remember, the truth won’t protect you here. But a believable lie just might."

As the men began to walk away, Lucien descended the stairs into the courtyard. He was no longer dressed in his usual black. For the first time in weeks, he wore royal colors, deep blue with silver accents, a sign of his claim to nobility.

Liora found her breath catch. There was something dangerous about him today. He wasn’t hiding anymore.

Lucien glanced at her from across the stones and approached with slow, deliberate steps.

"You’ll walk with me tonight," he said.

She hesitated. "At the banquet?"

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