Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma

Queen dowager's carriage rolled up to the gate of the grand palace in an echo of the stampede of horses' hooves through the courtyard as she sat tall, reflective of her authority, there being a softness inside those eyes that only a few, like her own son, King Alden, would ever see again. She had taken him up to raise after birth and had performed the role of both mother and protector when his biological mother, her sister, had died shortly after bringing him into the world. The woman who bore him, as much to Alden, was like a mother, as well as the queen dowager.

With his mother announced by the steward, Alden was up from his desk in a real smile, cracking across his face. His mother was always so very heavy with the crown's weight, but not on this day.

"Mother," he said, crossing the room to greet her.

"Alden," she replied, her voice soft with affection. She placed her hands on his shoulders and studied his face. "You look well."

"And you look as radiant as ever," he said,

"It is good to see you," Alden said, there was warmth in his voice, as he embraced her.

The queen dowager pulled back, her fingers resting on his shoulder for a moment

before she was gone. "Alden, my dear. How are you? How's the court?"

He smiled softly, shaking his head at the weight of the question. "Same as always. Busy. The people never stop, do they?

She smiled, though her eyes held a deeper concern. "I'm sure," she said, settling beside him. As the steward poured tea, the conversation drifted for a moment, but Alden could tell his mother had something on her mind.

Once the tea was served, she placed her cup down carefully, her expression shifting. There was no hesitation in her voice when she spoke again. "I've come for a reason, Alden."

Alden's smile faltered slightly at the serious tone. "What is it, Mother?"

She regarded him with a steadfast gaze and the quiet weight of her words. "I have found a girl."

Alden blinked, having no idea where this conversation was going. "A girl?"

"She is young, noble, and" she pauses as if looking for the right words, "suitable for him."

"Suitable for whom?" Alden asked, frowning slightly. He wasn't sure exactly what she meant, as he already had enough of concubines.

"For your brother," she said quietly. The name of his brother hung in the air like an unspoken truth. "I want you to issue an edict, making sure he accepts her as a concubine."

Alden was experiencing a tightness in his chest. He felt deep sympathy for his brother, who had been thrown away by the royal family after a tragic fall. He never thought he'd have to make such a decision for him, at least not over a concubine.

The queen dowager continued, her voice calm but firm. "She will be arriving soon at the palace. I need you to make this happen."

Alden stared at her for a moment, his mind racing. He didn't want to rush things. "Is she willing?" he asked, though he knew she likely had no choice.

"She understands her place," the queen dowager said, her voice unwavering. "She will do her duty."

Alden's fingers brushed against the edge of his desk as he thought. His mother's wish was clear, but he had his own doubts. "I'll arrange it," he said finally, though there was a note of hesitation in his voice. He needed more time to think, to understand the full picture. But his mother's determination was not something he could ignore.

The queen dowager nodded her head, her eyes smoothing with the movement. "Thanks, Alden. I know you understand why it is necessary."

Alden nodded, his brow still furrowed slightly. "I'll send for the prince to court. And make sure he's not intoxicated this time," he drawled with a raised brow, referring to the elder prince's notorious track record of drunk behavior.

The queen dowager smiled weakly at him. "Come prepared."

Before she left, she lightly touched his arm, an infrequent gesture of tenderness. "I know you'll take care of it. You always do."

Alden sat in the darkness, thinking on the decision he'd made. He was a king, but in this moment, he felt himself once again a son, torn between his duty to the kingdom and his loyalty to his brother.

The steward came closer to Liora, his voice low and careful, as if he wouldn't want to shock her. "Miss Liora, it is time. The queen dowager instructed that you have to be in the palace immediately."

Liora's heart fell at his words. She could only nod weakly, incapable of doing anything more. Her throat was tight, and her legs were heavy as she followed him outside.

The carriage waiting for her was grand, its polished wood and golden accents catching the early sunlight. For a moment, she stood there, her gaze fixed on the sight. It didn't feel real.

"This is." Her words faltered. "This is for me?

The steward glanced at her with a small nod. "It is, miss. Please."

A small group of maids stood near the carriage, their faces carefully composed. One of them stepped forward, offering a curtsy. She was young, perhaps a little older than Liora herself, and had kind eyes. "I'm Mira," the girl said. "I'll be your personal attendant from today."

Liora's brow furrowed. "Personal attendant?" It tasted strange, saying it. "But. will I have to pay you?" The thought of one more debt weighing her down with its additional weight left her close to quaking.

The smile of Mira wasn't an inviting one as she merely beckoned with a hand to enter the carriage. "Board up, miss. We'll not want to be late, after all."

Liora hesitated, her mind churning over unanswered questions. Why was this happening to her? What did it mean for the future? This all is too much!! .Taking a deep breath, she entered the carriage, her movements stiff and awkward. Mira entered, sitting across from her.

As the carriage moved forward, Liora automatically stretched out her hand toward the curtain, wishing to catch a glimpse of what lay outside and divert her thoughts that seemed to tear her insides apart.

Mira stopped her with a soft voice, "Miss, it isn't proper to peep through the window. Married girls or concubines should not display such unbecoming conduct."

Mira offered an encouraging smile but did not utter another word. Liora sat back in her chair, closing her fists so tightly she could have crushed granite with her hands. She stared at them as minutes ticked by, thinking wildly with fear and anxiety.

Elsewhere...

In a room , barely lighted, which carried a stale wine and smoke smell, there was a man reclining languidly on a worn chaise. The air inside was meager, other than for the littering of fragments of his existence, the bottle, a half-emptied vessel on the floor, some dusty tomes stacked into a corner, and the sword leaning against the wall. A robe loosely lay over him; its collar hung crookedly over his frame as if he'd barely been bothered enough to put it on.

The door creaked open, and a man entered, his steps hurried and his face tense.

"My lord," the servant began, bowing slightly. "A royal edict has arrived. They're summoning you to the palace."

The man on the chaise didn't move, his only response a soft grunt of acknowledgment.

"My lord," the servant pressed, stepping closer, "this concerns you directly. They've asked for your immediate presence. And." He hesitated, his voice lowering. "You've been specifically instructed to come sober."

At that, the man let out a sharp, humorless laugh. It echoed in the room, bouncing off the bare walls like a taunt. "Sober," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "As if my state of mind is their concern."

The servant shifted awkwardly. "My lord, please. It is not a thing to dismiss. They are asking to see you."

The man stirred, finally slowly sitting up. His movements seemed deliberate, as if every motion required effort. He reached for the sword by his side, the hilt worn from years of use, and rose to his full height. His face came out of the shadows, and it was sharp and pale, with piercing emerald-blue eyes that seemed to see everything yet revealed nothing.

"They never stop, do they?" he said, his tone cold and distant. "No matter how far I go, they always find a way to pull me back."

"My lord." the servant began, but his voice faltered under the weight of his master's gaze.

The man let out a deep sigh, slinging the sword across his back. "Let's not keep them waiting," he said, his voice dripping with bitter amusement. "After all, I wouldn't want to give them another reason to despise me."

The servant stepped aside as the man strode past him, his footsteps steady and deliberate.

...

The court of the palace was bursting with formality and tension. Ministers stood in the long hall, their faces not revealing anything, but all eyes were constantly shifting between one royal to another. The princes, dressed in their ceremonial attire, were standing in their places.

The king, Alden, sat on the throne. His mind, however, was elsewhere, on the edict. The decision, though his to announce, had been orchestrated by the queen dowager. His mother, who had nursed him since birth, was a rare impulse actor, but on this occasion, her sense of urgency had left him breathless.

He had sent his informants to research the girl she had chosen for his brother. The reports were in detailed of her history, her family's shame, her personality. Alden had read it all, his brow furrowing with every detail. Still, he trusted his mother enough to see it through. But as king, trust was a luxury he could not afford easily, especially when his throne was constantly shadowed by fear of betrayal.

"Your Majesty," a minister bowed, pulling Alden's attention back to the present. "The court awaits your word."

He nodded, lifting a hand to silence the murmurs. "We wait," he said, his voice steady. "The prince has yet to arrive."

Outside the palace gates, Liora's carriage waited silently. Once decorated horses now paced with impatience and paws in the ground; the maids hovering near her carriage nervously shifted their weight.

Liora glanced at Mira, her hands writhing in anxious twist.

"Why aren't we moving?" she asked, so softly that it barely penetrated the slight noise around them.

Mira offered a faint smile, but her eyes were stressed. "Patience, miss. We'll be called in when it's time."

Liora sighed, letting herself sink back against the cushioned seat. Her nerves were frayed, and the longer she waited, the worse it became. She didn't know where she was going or why, and Mira's vague reassurances did little to calm her.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. Raised voices and hurried footsteps echoed outside the carriage. Mira stiffened, her head tilting as she tried to catch the words being exchanged. Liora leaned forward, her own anxiety rising.

"What's happening?" she whispered, gripping Mira's arm.