CHAPTER 174: WE NEED TO MOVE HER...

Liora lay curled against Lucien’s chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns across his bare skin, as if she needed to memorize him before the moment slipped away. His hand rested on her back, warm and possessive, a silent promise he hadn’t yet put into words.

She didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

The silence wasn’t heavy; it pulsed, like something alive. Charged. Dangerous.

Finally, Lucien shifted, his lips brushing her temple as he murmured, "You’re trembling."

"I’m not cold," she whispered.

"I didn’t say you were."

A beat passed, and then she lifted her gaze to his. In the dim light of the chamber, he looked almost unguarded. Human. And yet, behind those midnight eyes, something darker stirred, like a man who’d been waiting years to feel anything, only to find it all rushing in at once.

"Lucien..." she began.

"I know."

He didn’t ask her to explain. Didn’t push. But when he pulled her closer, his grip was tighter...desperate in a way he refused to show on his face.

Outside the window, the wind picked up. The palace slept on, unaware of what had just ignited behind closed doors. But neither of them was naïve enough to believe they could stay hidden for long.

They had crossed a line tonight.

Not just physically...but in ways that would change the course of everything.

"You’ll have to be careful," Lucien finally said, voice low and tight. "There are eyes everywhere. You may not see them, but they’re always watching."

She nodded, breath catching in her throat. "I felt it... before. As if someone..."

"They were," he cut in, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "And I’ll find out who."

A pause.

Then his hand slid to her cheek, firm and reverent. "But I don’t regret this."

She stared up at him, heart pounding, already knowing they had invited storms with their touch.

"Neither do I," she breathed.

Even if it meant war.

... and beside it, a date that had not yet come to pass.

Liora’s breath caught. It was tomorrow’s date...etched with the same ink, the same deliberate strokes. A tremor passed through her fingers as she reached out to touch it, but before she could, the door behind her creaked open.

"Looking through my things, little dove?" Lucien’s voice was low and amused...but edged with something darker. She turned, heart hammering, only to find him leaning against the doorframe, eyes glinting with quiet mischief.

"I didn’t mean to...." she began, but he was already walking toward her, slow, measured steps that made the air feel thicker with every inch he closed between them.

Lucien stopped inches from her, gaze falling from her eyes to her lips, then to the date still open on the page behind her. "Curiosity," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek, "is dangerous. Especially when it wanders into the lion’s den."

Liora swallowed, her back pressing lightly into the desk. "And yet the lion lets the prey walk freely."

His smirk deepened. "Only because this prey doesn’t run."

For a heartbeat, they stood still....his hand still lingering at her jaw, her chest rising with each sharp inhale. She hated the way her skin reacted, how her thoughts tangled with every inch of heat radiating from him. But then, before he could lean closer, a sharp knock rattled the door. The spell broke.

Lucien stepped back, composure snapping back into place. "Enter."

Scarlet peeked in, breathless. "My lord... someone’s been spotted near the eastern corridor. Watching from the shadows. Edgar says it isn’t one of ours."

Lucien’s expression turned grim, the air thickening again....but this time with danger, not desire.

"I’ll handle it." He turned to Liora, the softness gone. "Don’t leave this room until I return. And do not touch anything else."

He vanished through the door, and Liora was left staring at the half-open diary, the unwelcome chill of mystery crawling up her spine once again.

Liora didn’t sit still. As soon as Lucien left, she moved to the window, cautiously parting the heavy curtains. She couldn’t see anyone in the eastern corridor from here...but something gnawed at her. If someone was spying on Lucien... or her... then she wasn’t just a pawn anymore. She was a target.

Her gaze flicked back to the diary. That date. Tomorrow. What was meant to happen then?

She walked back to the desk and hesitated only a second before flipping another page. More scribbles. Codes, maybe. Names that didn’t belong to any of the servants. And one word repeated in the margins in faint ink was ,Red Veil.

Liora’s blood ran cold. She had heard that term once before.

From her father.

Before his death.

The Red Veil wasn’t a person; it was a faction. Underground. Ruthless. Loyal to no crown, but to a cause that had long been buried under royal lies. And if Lucien had dealings with them... or was being watched by them...

She closed the diary, her hands shaking.

The door burst open again, not Lucien, but Rowan.

"Come with me," he said, urgency lining his voice. "Lucien needs you."

"Why?"

Rowan hesitated. "Because the spy was looking for you."

Liora’s breath caught in her throat. "Looking for me?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rowan nodded grimly, scanning the hallway behind him before stepping inside and shutting the door behind him with a soft but decisive click. "Lucien didn’t want me to alarm you, but the intruder wasn’t here for him. They were searching the east wing. Your wing."

Her mind reeled. "Do you know who it was?"

"No. But they left no trace. Almost like a ghost," he muttered. "Except for one thing...they cut through the tapestry on the second floor. The one with the stag crest."

Her eyes widened. That was her family’s symbol.

The blood drained from her face. "Rowan... I think I know what they were looking for."

Without another word, she darted toward the trunk where she had hidden the journal, her bare feet sliding slightly against the cool floor. She threw it open, rummaged beneath the layers of fabric, and withdrew the leather-bound diary.

Rowan approached, his eyes narrowing. "Where did you get that?"

"It was hidden behind a false panel in this room. And it...it belonged to someone in my family. Possibly my father. I found a page with tomorrow’s date written in it... and this."

She flipped the journal open to the section where the phrase Red Veil was scrawled again and again in the margins. Rowan’s face went blank.

"That’s not just some old revolutionary name," he said quietly. "Lucien has been trying to locate any surviving members of the Red Veil for years. They’ve been connected to assassinations, blackmail, even the former queen’s death..."

"My father was tied to them," she interrupted, breathless. "He warned me once, long ago. Told me that if I ever saw that name again, I should run."

But she didn’t want to run. Not anymore.

Before Rowan could respond, the door flew open again...and this time, it was Lucien. His eyes darted between Liora and Rowan, then landed on the journal in her hands. His gaze hardened.

"You opened it," he said. Not a question...an accusation.

"You knew?" Liora stepped forward, her voice trembling with disbelief. "You knew it was here? That they’d come for it?"

"I had my suspicions," he said tightly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "I didn’t expect them to move so soon. Or so boldly."

Her eyes searched his face. "What’s the Red Veil, Lucien? What do they want from me?"

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he reached for the journal with one gloved hand, setting it on the table between them like it was a loaded weapon. "They don’t want anything from you, Liora. They want you gone."

A long silence followed, broken only by the wind battering the windows.

Rowan cleared his throat. "We need to move her. Tonight."

Lucien’s jaw clenched. "No. They’ve already infiltrated this part of the manor. If we move her, we’ll lead them straight to our fallback hideouts."

"Then what do we do?" Liora asked, her voice barely steady.

Lucien looked at her then...really looked at her. There was fire in his eyes, a fury laced with something else. Something protective.

"You stay with me," he said.

The room Lucien brought her to was nothing like hers.

Unlike her modest chambers tucked away in the eastern wing, this one was carved from cold stone and shadows. A fireplace glowed low, casting flickering light on the dark wood shelves that lined the walls...shelves filled with books, maps, old weapons, and ledgers with no titles. Heavy curtains veiled the windows, sealing away even the moonlight.

"This was once my study," Lucien said, closing the door behind them. "You’ll stay here. No one enters this wing without my permission."

Liora wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes adjusting to the dimness. "You’re hiding me in plain sight?"

"In the last place they’d dare search," he replied. "The rest of the manor assumes this wing is closed off. If they think you’re still in your own room, they’ll return there first."

She turned toward him, uncertain. "Why not let me leave? Escape beyond the walls while we still can?"

Lucien approached her slowly, like a storm held barely in check. "Because they’re not after the journal anymore. They know it’s with you. If you flee now, they’ll hunt you outside these walls. I can’t protect you there."