CHAPTER 213: DON’T GIVE HER POWER

The summons left no room for delay.

Within moments, Lucien and Liora were led through torch-lit corridors and into the carriage that awaited them outside the manor. The night air was sharp, carrying the damp weight of mist that clung to the streets. The horses shifted restlessly, as if they too sensed the unease that wrapped itself around the Blackthorne name.

Inside, the carriage was cloaked in silence. Only the rhythm of wheels against cobblestones and the faint creak of wood marked the passage of time.

Liora sat stiffly, her hands clasped in her lap so tightly her knuckles ached. The shadows across Lucien’s face, carved by the lantern glow, made him look even more remote, like a man sculpted of stone, not flesh.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Is this what you wanted? For me to discover the truth like this, through scraps, through whispers? From everyone but you?"

Lucien’s gaze shifted to her, slow, deliberate. His voice was low, edged with restraint. "I wanted to shield you."

Her laugh was bitter, sharp. "Shield me? From my own life? From the blood that was spilled to put us here?"

Something flickered in his eyes, guilt, pain, anger, it was hard to tell. "If you had known everything from the start, Liora, you would never have agreed to stay at my side."

She flinched. His words struck like a blade, too close to the truth. But her voice, though trembling, held steady. "And you would rather have me bound in ignorance than risk losing me?"

He didn’t answer. His silence was worse than denial.

The carriage jolted as it turned sharply, the momentum swaying them closer. For a heartbeat, the space between them collapsed, the heat of his presence brushing against her like an unspoken confession.

But Lucien pulled back, his tone clipped when he finally spoke. "Lilian will use this. Every crack between us, every doubt in your heart. Do not give her that power."

Liora met his gaze, her chest burning with a tangle of grief and defiance. "Then stop giving me reasons to doubt you."

Neither spoke again. The carriage rolled on, carrying them toward the looming palace gates, where Lilian waited with the next turn of the blade.

Liora’s pulse thundered in her ears as the weight of Lilian’s words settled over the chamber. This court shall witness your truth.

Every noble eye turned upon them hungry, waiting for blood.

Lucien didn’t flinch. His stance was rigid, but his voice, when it came, was calm and laced with steel.

"You’ve kept him alive for this moment," he said to Lilian, his gaze unwavering. "Not for justice. For spectacle."

A ripple of gasps whispered through the crowd. Few dared speak so bluntly to the Queen Dowager.

Lilian’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "And yet you speak as though you are above spectacle, Lucien. You, who fell from grace before half these men and women. Do not forget you stand here by my allowance."

Her gaze flicked toward Liora, sharp and deliberate. "And so does she."

Heat burned up Liora’s spine, but she forced herself to keep her chin lifted. She would not cower. Not here.

Darius laughed low in his throat, the sound grating and dark. "You hear it, don’t you?" he said, addressing them both. "The court is not here to see me condemned. They want to see if you’ll turn on each other. If your so-called bond will shatter the moment truth is demanded."

Liora’s throat tightened. Truth. The word coiled like a blade. Darius had already hinted at shadows Lucien kept hidden, secrets tangled with her parents’ deaths. And now, in front of everyone, Lilian had staged this cruel theater to test them.

"Enough games." Lucien’s voice cut across the murmurs, steady but dangerous. His hand twitched as though resisting the urge to reach for his sword. "What is it you want from us, Lilian? Say it plainly."

The Queen Dowager tilted her head, her earrings catching the light like drops of blood. "Very well. You will pass judgment on this man. Together."

Gasps rippled again. A test public, binding.

"If you choose wrongly," Lilian continued, her voice carrying like silk over steel, "you will bear the consequences. But if you cannot choose at all..." Her eyes gleamed, satisfied. "Then you prove yourselves unfit to stand before this court."

The silence that followed was crushing.

Liora’s stomach knotted. The choice wasn’t about Darius, it was about them. About whether they could stand united before the world, even when poison threatened to pull them apart.

Darius grinned, sensing the noose tightening. "So, little brother, little dove...what will it be?"

The chamber held its breath.

Lucien’s hand shifted closer to Liora’s at his side, his fingers brushing hers in the faintest of touches. Not a command this time, but a question. A plea for trust.

Liora’s pulse thrummed as Lucien’s fingers brushed hers, so slight that none but she would notice, but heavy with meaning. She turned her head, meeting his eyes. For a fleeting instant, the mask he wore cracked, and she saw it: the storm raging behind his calm, the plea buried beneath his pride.

Trust me.

Her throat tightened. She wanted to. Saints, she wanted to. But Darius’ words still burned in her mind like brands, twisting the memory of her parents’ deaths into something tangled with the Blackthorne name.

Darius saw her hesitation and smiled, cruel and triumphant. "She doubts you already, Lucien. One touch from the truth, and she’s unraveling."

Lucien’s gaze flicked toward him, then back to her. His hand brushed hers again, firmer this time silent defiance against Darius’ venom.

Liora inhaled slowly, forcing steel into her spine. If she faltered now, in front of Lilian, in front of the court, they would both be broken.

She shifted her hand, not pulling away but curling her fingers slightly against his. Not forgiveness. Not surrender. But alliance.

The chamber erupted into murmurs. Even that smallest gesture had been seen, magnified by the silence of the hall.

Lucien straightened, his voice carrying with measured force. "You ask us to judge a traitor," he said, eyes fixed on Lilian, "but this is not a test of justice. It is a test of unity. And you will have your answer."

Darius tilted his head, intrigued. "Oh? And what judgment do you give, brother?"

Lucien’s grip on Liora’s hand steadied her. He drew in a breath, and then, together, they spoke...

"Exile."

The word cracked through the air like a whip.

Shock rippled through the court. Some gasped, others murmured in confusion. Not execution, not pardon. Exile.

Lilian’s eyes narrowed, unreadable. "You spare the life of a traitor?"

Lucien’s jaw hardened. "No. We condemn him to a life stripped of honor, name, and power. Death would silence him. Exile will make him live as the shadow he has chosen to be."

Liora added, her voice steady though her heart raced, "It is justice without blood. A punishment neither merciful nor weak."

The hall stirred. Nobles leaned toward one another, whispering. Some nodded approval. Others frowned, unsettled.

Darius laughed, low, bitter, but with a flicker of something almost like admiration. "Clever, little dove. Clever, brother. You think to cage me in shame."

His eyes darkened as the knights moved to seize him. "But shame has never broken me."

Lucien didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His hand never left Liora’s as Darius was dragged from the chamber, his laughter echoing against the marble.

When silence fell again, all eyes returned to Lilian.

The Queen Dowager’s expression was unreadable, but her gaze lingered on their joined hands, her jeweled fingers curling against her throne’s armrest. Slowly, she leaned back.

"You surprise me," she murmured. "Perhaps there is more steel in you both than I thought."

But there was no mistaking the glint in her eyes, sharp, calculating, dangerous.

For a moment, neither she nor Lucien spoke. Their joined hands had slipped apart the instant they crossed the threshold into the corridor, as though the fragile unity they’d displayed inside could not survive the open air beyond.

Liora walked a few steps ahead, her breaths sharp, her thoughts louder still. The whispers of the courtiers followed them even here, snaking down the marble halls like shadows. Exile. They chose exile.

She couldn’t tell if they thought it strength or weakness. She wasn’t even sure herself.

Lucien’s voice broke the silence, low and rough. "You shouldn’t have looked at him like that."

She stopped, her heart thudding. "At who?"

"You know who." He stepped closer, his presence filling the corridor. "Darius lives to divide. He feeds on hesitation. The more you let him see, the more power you give him."

Liora turned sharply, her eyes flashing. "And what of the power you’ve given him? By keeping the truth from me?"

Lucien flinched, almost imperceptibly. But he didn’t back away. "I kept it because you weren’t ready. Because some truths don’t protect, they destroy."

Her chest tightened. "And who decided that for me? You?"

"Yes." His answer was immediate, unflinching. "Because if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be standing here beside me now."

For a moment, all she could do was stare at him, the fire in her blood clashing with the raw certainty in his voice. He believed it, believed he had spared her.

But spared her what?

The silence stretched, brittle and sharp. Then, from the far end of the corridor, footsteps approached. Rowan emerged from the shadows, his expression grave, though his eyes flicked between them with a soldier’s precision, noting every crack.

"You played it well," he said, his voice pitched low. "Exile was the only answer that left the court divided instead of united against you."

Lucien’s gaze narrowed. "You were listening."