Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma Chapter 98: She knows court games

"Take so chamomile with you. It’ll help next ti."

Liora gave a soft nod and plucked a few sprigs, then hesitated. "The envoy yesterday... from Elowen. Do you know anything about him?"

Beatrice wiped her hands and sighed. "I know that if Elowen starts sniffing around again, it won’t be for trade." She lowered her voice. "And I know that your na, my girl, is beginning to circulate where it shouldn’t."

Liora’s grip on the basket tightened.

At the sa ti, across the estate, Lucien sat across from Rowan Vale in the study, a map of the western border stretched before them. "Elowen’s troops have been slowly reassigned to the southern pass. Quietly. Almost too quietly," Rowan said.

Lucien frowned. "That’s not the usual trade route."

"No," Rowan replied, tapping the edge of the parchnt. "But it’s the fastest route to slip into the capital. If war is brewing, they’ll want to control the grain lines before winter."

"And the court?"

Rowan hesitated. "They’re either blind or complicit. There’s word that Minister Caldus is eting envoys privately. At night. No docuntation."

Lucien sat back, thoughtful. "Caldus is ambitious. If Elowen promised him backing, he’d turn a blind eye to an invasion, thinking they’ll reward him later."

"But that also ans," Rowan said slowly, "they need soone inside the court who knows its pulse. Soone who can shift attention where they want it."

Lucien’s jaw tightened. "The Queen Dowager."

Rowan didn’t disagree.

Back in the garden, Liora carried the basket into the storage room but paused near the steward’s office when she heard voices.

"...you’re not ant to question whom the Prince sees," Edgar was saying.

A young voice responded, anxious. "But he didn’t summon her. The woman arrived on her own. Pale skin. Gold rings. Slled of lilies."

Liora froze.

That description matched only one person.

Layla Valcour.

The cousin.

She hadn’t seen her since the palace. Since her wedding night. Since Layla had tried to slap her behind closed doors and only Beatrice’s arrival had stopped it.

And if Layla was here...

Liora’s heart pounded.

This wasn’t about an old grudge. Layla never did anything without reason.

She turned, abandoning the basket entirely.

She needed to find Lucien. Now.

Lucien looked up from the map just as the door swung open.

Liora stood there, breath slightly uneven, eyes sharp with urgency.

"Layla Valcour is here," she said without preamble.

Rowan turned, his expression hardening. Lucien’s face, however, betrayed nothing—only the subtle narrowing of his eyes.

"She arrived without a summons," Liora added, stepping fully into the room. "The steward confird it. She brought no attendants, no notice."

Lucien rose slowly from his chair. "Then this isn’t a courtesy visit."

"No," Liora said. "It’s sothing else. Sothing deliberate."

Rowan nodded grimly. "A move from the capital. Perhaps a test... or a ssage."

Lucien’s voice was low. "Bring her in. But keep the guards on alert."

Within minutes, the doors to the side hall opened, and Layla entered as if gliding over glass. Her gown was too fine for travel, embroidered with golden vines that shimred under the morning light. Her smile was warm but her eyes betrayed calculation.

"Cousin," she said to Liora, as if the past never existed. "I thought I’d find you picking flowers in the sun. You do enjoy quaint hobbies, don’t you?"

Liora stood still, expression unreadable.

Lucien didn’t bow, didn’t welco her. "You ca uninvited, Layla."

She smiled, offering a mock pout. "How cold. I co bearing gifts, and this is how I’m received?"

"State your purpose," Lucien said.

Layla’s gaze flickered briefly to Liora, then Rowan, and finally back to Lucien.

"Fine. If we’re cutting pleasantries, then I’ll be direct." She reached into the folds of her cloak and retrieved a sealed letter. "From the Queen Dowager. She believes you’ll find the contents... enlightening."

Lucien took it but didn’t open it yet.

"I could have had it delivered," Layla continued, sauntering toward the hearth, "but I insisted on coming myself. It’s been too long since I saw your estate." Her gaze slid back to Liora. "And I was ever so curious how our dear cousin is settling in as a concubine."

Rowan took a single step forward, but Lucien’s voice cut through the room first. "Speak with respect while you’re under my roof, or you’ll find yourself escorted back with broken pride and fewer teeth."

Layla raised her hands. "Temper, temper, my prince. I rely ca to observe." Her smile twisted. "After all, it would be such a tragedy if war were to break out and you were... misaligned."

Lucien’s fingers clenched around the letter.

"She’s not just here for show," Rowan muttered. "She’s here to gather information. Possibly to stir tension."

Lucien t Liora’s gaze for a mont brief but grounding. "Take her to the southern guest wing," he said. "She’s not to wander."

"And the letter?" Rowan asked once Layla had been escorted out.

Lucien broke the seal.

The words inside made his jaw clench tighter.

"She’s bait," he said finally, passing the letter to Rowan. "The Queen Dowager wants to see how I react... whether I’ll betray where I stand."

Liora frowned. "And if you don’t?"

Lucien’s voice was cold.

"Then she’ll force my hand."

That night, a storm whispered through the estate, not with thunder but with unease.

Lucien sat alone in his study, the fire casting long shadows across the walls. The letter from the Queen Dowager lay open beside him, its words echoing louder than the crackling wood. Her ssage had been simple: Co to the capital, or we will co for you.

He didn’t trust the silence surrounding her offer. It reeked of bait wrapped in silk and poison.

A soft knock disturbed the air.

"Enter," he said.

Liora stepped in, her robe draped modestly, damp from the misty rain outside. She carried a small tray with a pot of tea and two cups. "I thought you might not have eaten."

He stared at her, surprised. Not by her presence, but by the quiet way she had begun filling the hollow spaces of his life without asking.

She set the tray down, pouring tea as if this were the most ordinary thing.

"You should rest," he said finally.

"I will. But not until I ask you sothing," she said, eting his eyes.

He raised a brow.

"Layla’s presence... is she part of sothing bigger?" Liora asked. "Because I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the first stone in an avalanche."

Lucien leaned back, watching the steam rise between them.

"You’re right," he said. "The Queen Dowager wants to draw out to see if I’ll co crawling or rebel. Layla was her way of announcing that the palace still watches ."

Liora folded her hands. "Then you won’t go?"

He considered it, then shook his head. "Not yet. I need to know who stands with ... and who doesn’t."

She hesitated. "And if they strike first?"

"I won’t fall quietly."

For a mont, the room was still. The tea sat untouched. Their gazes held longer than either intended. Liora looked away first.

"She’ll test next," Liora murmured, almost to herself. "Layla will try to provoke sothing."

"She already has," Lucien said. "Don’t answer her gas. Let her underestimate you."

A small smile touched Liora’s lips. "Underestimation can be a weapon."

Lucien nodded slowly. "So can loyalty."

Their eyes t again. A flicker of sothing unspoken danced there recognition, not affection. But perhaps... the seed of trust.

Outside, the rain had begun to fall in earnest.

Inside, neither touched the tea. They stayed in quiet conversation, two people on the edge of a war neither had chosen, but both would bleed for.

Layla’s laughter echoed faintly through the eastern wing of the estate, delicate and refined as ever but to Beatrice, who passed quietly in the corridor, it sounded more like the clicking of a blade being drawn.

She paused near the archway, just long enough to observe. Layla stood surrounded by a few young attendants she’d brought with her, each one dressed a touch more extravagantly than the local help. Her silks shimred, her hair was pinned with gold, and her smiles were too polished to be sincere.

Beatrice continued on without a word, her thoughts sharp. That one wasn’t here rely for reconciliation. She was performing.

Down the hall, in the servants’ wing, Liora was folding freshly dried herbs into linen satchels. Her hands were stained faintly from earlier; she had helped a young stable boy who’d cut his palm.

Beatrice entered without knocking.

"My lady," she said in her ever-flat tone.

Liora looked up, startled. "Yes?"

"She’s making friends quickly."

"Layla?" Liora asked, setting the herbs aside. "I imagined she would."

Beatrice eyed her carefully. "She knows court gas. You do not. That is a disadvantage."

"I never asked to play," Liora said.

Beatrice almost smirked. "That is precisely why you must learn. Lucien may not say it, but you’re no longer invisible. Not to Layla. Not to the court."

There was a pause.

Liora’s shoulders straightened. "Then teach . Quietly. I’ll learn."

Beatrice’s gaze softened ,just a flicker. "I’ll begin with reading people. First lesson: Layla is only smiling when she’s losing control."

Later that evening, Rowan returned. His boots were muddied, and he slled faintly of horse and wind.

Lucien t him in the hallway.

"Report."

Rowan handed over a sealed scroll. "From the border town. They intercepted a caravan heading east, marked as grain but laced with powdered resin used in explosives. The crates bear the sigil of Minister Caelis."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

"The sa Caelis who’s been silent since the last council eting?" he asked.

"The sa," Rowan said. "But this wasn’t ant for our military. It was headed beyond the mountains. Toward the northern pass."

Lucien turned the scroll over in his hand, mind racing.

Another nation was stirring, possibly ard, possibly aided by soone within their own ranks.

"Then the Queen Dowager’s reach isn’t the only threat," Lucien muttered. "There’s a ga behind her ga."