CHAPTER 216: RECLAIM HONOUR

"I wanted to spare you." He took a step closer, his voice breaking. "But I was also afraid—afraid you would see me as they painted me. Afraid I would lose the only person who ever made me believe I could still be more than what they say I am."

Her chest heaved, torn between fury and the aching pull in his words. She wanted to strike him, to weep against him, to scream until the walls shook.

Instead, her voice broke into a whisper.

"I don’t know if I can forgive you."

Lucien closed his eyes, the weight of the words striking him harder than any blade.

But when he opened them again, there was no retreat. Only resolve.

"Then don’t forgive me," he said softly. "But stand with me. Help me finish what your parents began. Let their deaths mean something more than ashes."

The fire popped, throwing sparks into the silence that followed.

Liora’s breath came ragged, her pulse hammering so loud it drowned out the fire’s crackle. The weight of Lucien’s words pressed against her chest, threatening to crush her.

Her parents.

Their deaths.

His silence.

Every piece fit together, jagged and cruel, like shards of glass lodged in her skin.

She turned away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. Her fingers trembled as they pressed against her skirts, and when she finally spoke, her voice was raw.

"You ask me to stand with you," she whispered. "But how can I, when every step I take with you feels like walking deeper into lies?"

Lucien flinched as if struck, but he didn’t move closer. His restraint was almost more painful than his truth.

"I have no lies left, Liora," he said, his voice low, almost hoarse. "Only enemies. Enemies who wear crowns. Enemies who feast on power while they leave corpses in their wake." His fists unclenched slowly, as though he was forcing himself to soften. "And I can’t bring them down alone."

Her shoulders stiffened. The firelight caught the wet shimmer in her eyes as she finally turned back to him.

"My parents trusted you," she said bitterly. "And it cost them everything." Her voice cracked. "If I trust you now, what will it cost me?"

Lucien’s expression shifted...anguish, then something fiercer, burning beneath. He stepped closer, close enough that his shadow fell over her but not close enough to touch.

"Everything," he admitted. "But if you stand with me, it won’t be for nothing."

The words hung between them, heavy as iron.

Before Liora could answer, the door to the chamber slammed open.

Both turned sharply as a servant stumbled inside, pale and breathless, bowing so quickly he nearly collapsed.

"Your Highness...Lady Liora..." the man gasped. "The Queen Dowager summons you at once. There is... urgent news. A decree is to be announced before the court."

Liora’s heart lurched. Another game. Another test.

Lucien’s jaw tightened, his earlier vulnerability vanishing beneath cold resolve. He looked at Liora one last time, the unspoken plea clear in his eyes: decide later, but not here. Not in front of her.

Liora swallowed, her grief and rage twisting into a knot she could hardly breathe around. She rose slowly, her spine straightening despite the storm inside her.

"Very well," she said, her voice steady though her hands were not. "Take us to her."

The servant bowed deeply, gesturing toward the corridor.

As they walked side by side, silence stretched between them, thick, fragile, alive with everything unsaid.

But one truth had already been carved into stone: whatever awaited them in Lilian’s court, it would force them to choose,together or apart.

The palace corridors swallowed them in silence as Lucien and Liora followed the servant deeper into the heart of the court. The torches along the walls burned lower here, their light stretching long shadows across the stone. Every step echoed like a drumbeat of judgment, and Liora could feel eyes on them, even when the hall seemed empty.

Nobles lingered at archways, their whispers sharp as daggers. She caught fragments, concubine, disgrace, traitor, test, each word searing into her like brand marks. She kept her head lowered, but inside, her blood boiled. They did not know the truth of what had been stolen from her, nor the weight Lucien carried. And yet, they judged. Always, they judged.

Lucien walked beside her, his stride measured, his face a mask of indifference. But she saw the tightness in his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. He was listening to every whisper too, and unlike her, he had learned long ago to weaponize silence.

When the doors to the great hall loomed ahead, the servant bowed and scurried away, leaving them alone before the threshold.

Liora’s hand trembled at her side, then stilled as Lucien brushed his fingers, barely, against hers. Not a touch, not even a comfort, but a reminder. A tether.

She drew in a sharp breath, straightened her spine, and stepped forward.

The doors opened with a resonant groan, spilling light across the marble floor. Inside, the court was already assembled. Rows of nobles lined either side, their silks shimmering like predators’ scales. At the far end, upon her velvet throne, Queen Dowager Lilian sat draped in black and silver, her crown gleaming like forged steel.

Her eyes locked onto them the moment they entered, sharp, measuring.

"Prince Lucien. Lady Liora." Her voice carried effortlessly through the hall, cold and commanding. "You arrive at a moment most crucial. The kingdom trembles on its borders, and faith within the court is fragile."

Lucien bowed stiffly, his face unreadable. Liora mirrored him, though her pulse thundered.

Lilian’s jeweled hand lifted, silencing the low murmur that spread through the assembly. "Tonight, before the eyes of this court, I make a decree."

A hush fell, so absolute Liora could hear the hammering of her own heart.

"The disgraced prince shall no longer drift in shadow. Nor shall his concubine remain nameless." Lilian’s voice hardened, cutting like a blade. "The two shall stand together, not as outcasts, but as contenders. Their loyalty, their unity, their worth, will be judged by the Trials of Oath. Fail, and you shall be stripped of all place, cast from this court as traitors. Succeed, and you may yet reclaim honor."

Gasps rippled through the chamber.

Liora’s breath caught. The Trials of Oath. Ancient, dangerous, and said to unravel even the strongest bonds.

Her gaze flicked to Lucien. His expression was calm, but in his eyes she saw it, the fire of a man who had expected this moment all along.

Lilian leaned forward, her smile thin as smoke. "The Trials begin at dawn."

The chamber erupted in whispers, but Liora heard nothing except the pounding of her own heart. Dawn. One night to face the storm that could bind her fate to Lucien’s forever...or shatter it beyond repair.

The hall was still buzzing long after Queen Dowager Lilian dismissed them. Nobles leaned toward one another, whispering in tones sharp enough to cut glass. Some glanced at Lucien with undisguised disdain, others at Liora with pity...or worse, amusement.

Lucien turned, his cloak brushing the marble as he strode down the aisle. Liora followed, keeping her chin high, though every stare clawed at her resolve. She wanted to scream at them, to tell them she was not weak, not disposable. Instead, she let her silence speak...an unbroken thread of defiance.

At the chamber doors, a familiar voice slid through the murmurs like oil.

"Well, well. The Trials of Oath." Darius Valcour stepped forward from the crowd, a smile tugging at his lips. His golden hair caught the torchlight, his noble robes impeccable, but his eyes glittered with something far sharper than courtesy. "What a twist of fate. The court has been hungry for a spectacle."

Lucien didn’t slow. His gaze barely flicked to Darius, but the tension in the air thickened.

Darius, of course, followed. "Tell me, cousin, will you fight to reclaim what you lost, or will you let the whispers be proven true? That you were never worthy of the crown you once carried?"

The words were bait, sharp and calculated. Liora felt her stomach coil.

Lucien finally stopped, turning just enough that the firelight carved his profile in shadow. His voice, when it came, was low and deliberate. "Be careful with your tongue, Darius. Even vipers choke when they strike too often."

The silence that followed was electric. Several nobles nearby stifled gasps.

Darius only laughed, smooth and mocking. "Striking? Oh no, dear cousin. I simply watch. And I assure you, I will be watching closely." His gaze slid to Liora then, bold, piercing. "Especially you, Lady Miral. You are quite the... gamble."

The words hit her like ice water. She refused to flinch, though heat rose in her chest. Instead, she met his stare head-on, her voice steady. "Then I hope you are prepared to lose."

A flicker crossed his face, surprise, perhaps, but then the smile returned, sharper than before. He bowed mockingly, then drifted back into the throng, his presence lingering like smoke.

Lucien moved again, and Liora followed, though her hands were tight fists at her side.

When at last the heavy doors closed behind them and the corridor stretched empty, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Lucien glanced at her, his expression still unreadable. But his words were quiet, almost an echo. "You should not have answered him."

"I will not be silenced while he spits poison at me," she snapped before she could stop herself.

His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he turned forward again, his voice like iron. "Then make sure, Liora, that your words do not cost us more than his venom."

The corridor swallowed them once more, but his warning clung to her like a second skin.

Tomorrow, the Trials would begin. And already, the court was sharpening its teeth.