Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma-Chapter 158: Growl at every man

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.

The night of the banquet arrived.

Inside the estate’s grand hall once dusty and dim, now glowing with rows of chandeliers and gilded sconces guests murmured and mingled under high arched ceilings. Servants dressed in grey and blue moved like shadows, placing drinks in the hands of carefully chosen nobles and ministers who had been invited under subtle pretenses. Many had come out of curiosity. Some came to see the disgraced prince with their own eyes. And a few came with agendas of their own.

Lucien stood at the top of the stairs overlooking the hall. His posture was unreadable, expression cold. But Samuel, stationed a few paces behind, noticed the way Lucien’s fingers flexed slightly when he saw Liora enter.

She looked different tonight.

Not merely dressed for the event, but standing taller, her chin raised slightly. A soft silver pin held part of her hair up, a gift from Rowan that morning. It caught the light as she moved, casting a halo around her face. Her gaze was sharp, aware of the stares following her every step.

Beatrice stood near the far wall, speaking to a few older women, but her eyes kept drifting toward Liora. She didn’t speak, just observed.

Lucien descended slowly, not breaking his gaze from Liora.

"Did you memorize your story?" he asked under his breath as he reached her side.

"I’ve rehearsed it with Rowan six times. If I forget, I’ll improvise," Liora whispered back without looking at him.

He gave a soft, near-silent laugh. "Let’s hope you don’t improvise yourself into another scandal."

"I’ll try to keep my dignity intact, Your Highness," she replied, tone dry.

Lucien’s smile faded. "Don’t call me that here."

"But isn’t this your show?"

Lucien didn’t answer. Instead, he placed a hand lightly at the small of her back and guided her through the floor, stopping just where the nobles gathered.

Lady Verna of House Ellemont turned. "Your Grace," she greeted Lucien smoothly. Then, eyeing Liora, she added, "And the lady at your side?"

Lucien didn’t even hesitate. "This is Lady Liora of Westmere. She is a physician’s daughter and now under my protection."

Whispers flared. Some were disguised as coughs, and some were passed behind sleeves.

Verna’s brows raised. "Westmere, you say? We haven’t heard of such a lady before."

"Not everything worth knowing is written in court records," Lucien replied, voice even.

Liora gave a polite nod, her palms slightly damp.

The nobles circled closer, more of them watching, studying, and calculating.

And in a far corner, a tall, clean-shaven young man with an injured arm in a silk sling stood watching Liora. He leaned toward one of the guards and asked, "Who’s that with the prince?"

"New mistress, they say," the guard mumbled.

But the man said nothing more. He just smiled faintly.

Lucien noticed him too.

"Who is that?" he asked Samuel quietly.

Samuel glanced over, frowning. "That’s Lord Thorne’s nephew. Elias."

Lucien’s gaze sharpened.

"He was supposed to be bedridden at the northern post. Strange he’s here at all."

And then Lucien saw it the way Elias’s eyes trailed after Liora with an interest far too focused.

It was not the court he feared now.

It was the game beginning beneath it.

The music played gently, a slow melody that looped beneath the hum of conversation. Liora stood near the ornate side table, a goblet of diluted wine in her hand. She hadn’t sipped it yet. Her gaze followed the curve of the chandelier overhead, not to admire its beauty but to avoid the dozens of pairs of eyes occasionally flicking in her direction.

Across the room, Elias stood, his good hand behind his back, his posture elegant but relaxed. He wasn’t trying to hide his interest and Liora felt it.

Lucien saw it, too.

He didn’t speak, but his eyes hadn’t left Elias in the last few minutes. He spoke to Verna and nodded to a few lords who approached him with half-hearted respect but he was watching Elias.

"Rowan," Lucien muttered quietly.

Rowan was at his side in a moment.

"That man," Lucien inclined his chin toward Elias. "Find out why he’s here. And whose authority brought him?"

Rowan nodded and disappeared into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Elias slowly made his way to Liora.

"Lady Liora, is it?" His voice was smooth and charismatic. The kind of tone that wasn’t arrogant, but never hesitated.

Liora blinked, composed herself, and turned toward him.

"Yes," she said with a cautious nod.

"I’m Elias Marwood. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised the Prince has such... unique taste."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Is that a compliment?"

He chuckled. "That depends on how you take it."

Liora didn’t answer immediately. She glanced around. Where was Lucien?

But Elias stepped a little closer.

"You don’t seem like someone who enjoys court games," he added, softer now. "I imagine this must be overwhelming."

"It’s not my favorite kind of room, no," she admitted before she could stop herself.

"Then we’re similar. Except, I don’t think we should be forced into roles we don’t choose."

Liora tilted her head. "Are you?"

"In more ways than you think," he replied cryptically.

Before Liora could ask more, a sudden presence interrupted them, Lucien.

He didn’t say a word. He simply stepped between them, his expression unreadable, and looked at Elias.

"I didn’t know you were well enough to travel, Lord Elias."

Elias bowed slightly. "I’ve recovered faster than expected. I thought it wise to show face here. Petra, after all, is your domain now."

"Mm," Lucien murmured. "How very considerate."

Elias’s eyes sparkled. "I was just admiring your lady’s poise. She seems well-adjusted already."

Lucien turned slightly. "She adjusts quickly. Like all survivors."

The tension between the two men, though hidden behind polite words and calm smiles, was evident.

Liora felt it in the air.

Lucien turned to her. "Come. There’s someone I want you to meet."

He didn’t wait for a response, only placed a hand on her lower back again and guided her away.

As they walked, Liora spoke under her breath, "You didn’t need to do that."

Lucien said nothing for a moment, then glanced sideways at her. "He’s not what he pretends to be."

"Neither are you," she said, without venom, just honesty.

Lucien stopped walking for a heartbeat. His gaze fixed on her, something unreadable behind it.

"True," he finally said. "But I’m not pretending to like you."

Liora blinked. "Is that supposed to be comforting?"

Lucien smirked. "It’s supposed to be honest."

And once again, the ballroom continued to swirl with elegance and deception, while beneath it all, new threads of jealousy, secrets, and power began to tighten.

The room had shifted. The tension hadn’t evaporated with Lucien’s interruption it had only been repackaged into silence. Elias watched the retreating backs of Lucien and Liora, a thoughtful smile resting on his lips. Behind that smile, however, was calculation.

"Very protective of her," he murmured to no one in particular.

Behind him, one of his guards stood quietly, a man cloaked in Petra’s official colors, but Elias whispered, "Send word. To the east border tell Lord Herst I’ve found something worth watching. Closely."

The guard bowed, then vanished through the servant’s passage.

Meanwhile, Liora kept her pace steady beside Lucien. He hadn’t spoken another word after that sharp exchange. They turned a corner toward the side hall, away from the gathering. The air grew cooler, quieter.

"I don’t need you to growl at every man who speaks to me," Liora said finally.

Lucien didn’t look at her, but his jaw flexed. "He’s not just a man. He’s Elias Marwood. A noble from the southeast who has more coin than loyalty and more secrets than scars."

"So? He’s kind to me," Liora said.

Lucien stopped abruptly.

She nearly bumped into him, but he turned slowly, eyes fixed on hers. "Kindness from men like him always has a price."

"And what about you?" she countered. "What’s your price, Lucien?"

A beat passed. Then, his tone dropped to something dangerously quiet: "I’ve already paid it."

They stood like that for a moment too long, something unspoken buzzing in the air. Then Lucien turned again and resumed walking.

They reached a quiet library, its windows half-open to let in the wind. Lucien walked to a shelf and pulled out a scroll, but he didn’t hand it to her.

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

"I did."

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