CHAPTER 215: IF HE HURT YOU

The corridor was cold. The torches lining the stone walls flickered, casting long, trembling shadows that seemed to mock Liora’s unsteady steps. Her vision blurred, not from lack of light but from the sting of unshed tears. She pressed her palm against the wall, forcing herself forward, away from him, away from the weight of truths half-spoken.

Her mind spun. Her parents. A Blackthorne’s ambition. His silence.

Every breath she took was a war between grief and rage.

"Liora?"

The voice snapped her from her thoughts. Rowan Vale emerged from the shadows, his dark cloak brushing the floor. His sharp eyes swept over her face, catching the shimmer of tears she couldn’t quite hide.

"You’re pale," he said, frowning. "What did he do?"

Her lips parted, but no words came. She couldn’t speak, not yet.

Rowan’s jaw clenched, and for a moment his composure slipped, his hand twitching as if he would storm past her into Lucien’s chamber. "If he hurt you..."

"No!" The word burst from her, harsher than she intended. She shook her head, forcing her trembling voice into something steady. "No, Rowan. He didn’t... He just..."

Her throat closed. She couldn’t finish.

Rowan studied her for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. "Then it’s the truth you’ve seen." His words were quiet but edged with a weight she didn’t miss.

Liora froze. Her gaze snapped up to him, searching his face. "You... knew?"

His eyes softened with regret. "Not everything. But enough to know Lucien has carried a burden he never should have borne alone."

The ache in her chest deepened. "And you said nothing?"

"Because it wasn’t my truth to tell," Rowan replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "It had to come from him."

Her heart twisted at the thought. But he didn’t tell me. He still hasn’t.

She turned away, hugging her arms around herself. "I don’t know who to trust anymore."

Rowan’s voice lowered. "Then start with yourself. Your instincts, your heart, they’ll lead you truer than any of us."

For the first time, she heard no mockery in his tone, no sly calculation. Only honesty.

But honesty was the very thing she feared the most.

Liora didn’t answer Rowan. She couldn’t. Her throat felt tight, her heart hammering with questions she didn’t yet have the strength to face. She stepped past him, the brush of her sleeve against his arm the only sign she’d even heard his words.

Rowan watched her go, his expression shadowed with something unreadable, part sympathy, part guilt, and part warning. He did not follow.

Back in Lucien’s chamber, silence weighed like stone. The fire had burned low, and the shadows crept higher across the walls.

Lucien stood where she had left him, his hand still clenched at his side as though releasing it would unravel him.

He stared at the door long after it had closed behind her, his breath slow and deliberate, control forced on a heart that threatened to crack.

"She knows," he murmured to himself, though the room was empty. His voice was raw, stripped bare. "Or at least... enough."

For the first time in years, he felt the sharp edge of fear. Not of Darius. Not of Lilian. Not even of Alden. But of losing her, of the look in her eyes when she had asked him if it was true.

He pressed his palms against the desk, bowing his head. The old wound throbbed, the night he could never erase, the blood that had soaked the ground, and the cries that haunted his sleep.

And now she was tangled in it.

Liora, meanwhile, had made her way to the far wing of the palace. She did not know why her steps led her there, only that she needed air, space from the suffocating walls of secrets.

But when she pushed open the small balcony door, she wasn’t alone.

Queen Dowager Lilian stood there, her figure outlined against the moonlight. She didn’t turn at the sound of the door, as if she had expected Liora to come.

Her voice drifted through the night air, calm and cutting.

"You’ve begun to see the truth, haven’t you?"

Liora’s breath hitched.

Lilian finally turned, her eyes gleaming with something sharp, unreadable. "Good. You should learn now, child... before you tether yourself too tightly to a man whose blood has drowned more than just his own future."

Liora’s heart pounded. For the first time, she wondered if the Queen Dowager had not just orchestrated a test for Lucien but a trap for her as well.

The night air cut cool against Liora’s skin, but it did little to steady the storm inside her. She forced her chin up, refusing to let Lilian see her shaken.

"What do you mean?" Liora’s voice was soft but firm.

Lilian studied her with a gaze that felt almost surgical, measuring, dissecting. Then, with the smallest smile, she stepped closer, the hem of her gown whispering against the stone floor.

"Your parents," Lilian said smoothly, "were not merely victims of misfortune. They were swept into a war between brothers, a war Lucien never wanted you to know."

Liora’s breath caught. "You’re lying."

"Am I?" The Queen Dowager tilted her head, the faintest arch of her brow daring Liora to call her bluff. "He kept it from you, didn’t he? Even when you begged for answers. Even when Darius taunted him. He silenced you with half-truths. A man who hides the past," she leaned close, her whisper brushing like frost against Liora’s ear, "is a man who fears it will destroy him."

The words cut sharper than steel. Liora’s chest ached, but she clenched her fists to keep from breaking.

Lilian straightened again, her expression smoothing into regal indifference. "I have no interest in convincing you, child. The truth has a way of clawing its way to the surface, whether Lucien wills it or not."

Her gaze lingered, a glint of satisfaction flickering like a predator scenting blood. "But take care, Liora Miral. Love, when built on silence, collapses swiftly."

With that, she turned, leaving Liora rooted to the balcony floor, her heart hammering so loudly she feared the whole palace could hear it.

When she returned to her chamber, the fire had burned low. Lucien sat in the shadows, waiting.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Finally, Liora whispered, "Tell me it isn’t true."

Lucien’s head lifted. His eyes met hers, full of torment, and in them was the answer she dreaded.

His silence was worse than confession.

Liora’s whisper hung in the room like smoke, fragile but suffocating.

"Tell me it isn’t true."

Lucien rose slowly from the chair, shadows clinging to him as if they, too, refused to let go. His hands flexed at his sides, restless, searching for words that never seemed to come.

Finally, he stepped into the glow of the firelight. His face was drawn, harder than she had ever seen it, but his eyes—his eyes carried a weight that made her stomach twist.

"It is not as Darius told it," Lucien said, his voice low, ragged. "But it is not untrue, either."

The world tilted beneath her feet. She gripped the back of a chair just to keep from swaying. "So you knew," she breathed. "All this time... you knew what happened to them."

"I knew pieces," Lucien said quickly, stepping forward. "Not the whole truth—not until after it was too late. Your parents... they were caught between my family’s war and the crown’s greed. I never wanted you to carry that burden."

Her laugh was hollow, breaking at the edges. "So you decided for me? You let me mourn in ignorance while you carried the truth in silence?"

His jaw clenched. "I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Her voice rose, raw, trembling. "Or protect yourself? Because if what they said is true—if the Blackthornes had a hand in their deaths—then you were afraid I would see you as nothing but a monster."

Lucien flinched, as though she had struck him. He reached for her, desperate, but she stepped back, the distance between them cutting deeper than any blade.

"I have never seen you as a monster," she whispered, voice shaking. "But gods help me, Lucien... you make it so hard not to."

The fire sputtered, throwing sparks into the silence.

Lucien’s shoulders sagged. For a long time he said nothing, and then, barely audible... "If I tell you everything, Liora... there will be no turning back. You will hate me."

Her throat ached, her heart torn between fury and longing. She forced herself to meet his eyes, steady despite the tremor in her chest.

"I already hate the silence more than I could ever hate you."

Lucien’s chest rose and fell with a sharp breath, as if he had been holding it for years. For a long moment, he only stared into the fire, the flicker painting shadows across his face. Then, slowly, he began.

"It wasn’t rebellion that damned me, Liora. Not at first. It was your parents."

Her nails bit into her palms, but she didn’t look away.

"They were loyal," Lucien continued, voice thick, "too loyal...to ideals that no longer had a place in Alden’s court. They saw the corruption spreading, the nobles carving up the kingdom like carrion. They tried to stop it." His mouth twisted. "And I... I believed in them."

Liora’s breath caught.

"Your father came to me in secret," Lucien said, his eyes glinting with something between guilt and grief. "He asked for my help. Not as a prince, but as a man who could see the rot inside his own bloodline. Together, we gathered proof, ledgers, letters, bribes that traced straight to the throne." His hand clenched into a fist. "We were going to expose them."

Liora’s voice shook. "Then why... why did they die?"