Back

Masterfully dodging the remaining night patrols, Liora continued her covert sweep of the estate. She slipped like a shadow from courtyard to courtyard, bypassing the armed sentries to check the Vane family's communal wealth. She funneled everything she found straight into her spatial storage, operating with practiced, silent efficiency.

She expected to stumble upon hidden vaults brimming with generational riches. After all, the Vanes were a legendary household. Instead, she found a striking lack of actual treasure. There were no dusty antiques, no priceless paintings wrapped in velvet, and no lockboxes stuffed with precious jewelry. The grand total of their family fortune amounted to little more than stacks of basic woven fabrics, hefty grain reserves piled in wooden silos, and a half-chest of silver coins. That scattered pile of silver likely totaled around ten thousand pieces at most.

For a military family historically revered across the kingdom and holding such high status, their financial state spoke volumes. Their striking poverty was a glaring testament to their generational honesty. They never took bribes, never skimmed from the military treasury, and never exploited the commoners they swore to protect. Yet, this unwavering loyalty and sterling reputation only earned them King Osric's fatal paranoia. It was a bitter, unfair reality.

She scooped up the half-chest of silver and hauled the remaining sacks of grains, stuffing her spatial dimension to the brim until it could not hold a single item more. It was not the massive haul she wanted, but she needed every available resource for the rough journey ahead.

Glancing at the night sky, she realized nearly two hours had passed since she first left her room. She hurried back toward her own courtyard. Tessa stood outside the bedroom doors, faithfully keeping watch just as ordered.

Liora bypassed the front entrance, scaling the stone wall and slipping back through her bedroom window just in the nick of time. She hastily stripped off her dark camouflage gear and changed back into her everyday clothes.

Before she even finished smoothing out her skirts, heavy footsteps hammered against the stone path outside.

"What happened to Lord Kaelen?" Tessa’s voice spiked with deep worry.

Liora rushed to the heavy wooden doors and swung them open. Two royal guards marched into the room, carrying Kaelen on a makeshift wooden stretcher. He lay motionless, his face pale and his eyes shut tight.

"Lady Liora, Lord Kaelen is hurt. We will get him settled in bed and then fetch an imperial physician," one of the royal guards grunted, maneuvering the stretcher alongside the mattress.

They hoisted Kaelen onto the sheets. The moment the guards turned and marched out of the courtyard, Tessa rushed past Liora to the bedside. Her eyes welled with frantic tears.

"Lady Liora, Lord Kaelen was fine when he left for the palace. How did he end up like this?" Tessa choked out, wringing her hands together.

Liora studied Kaelen’s face. He looked out cold, his breathing shallow and slow. But she needed space to examine his injuries without a panicking maid hovering over her shoulder.

"Go stand guard outside the bedroom doors," Liora ordered, her tone firm. "As soon as the imperial physician arrives, bring him straight in."

"Yes, Lady Liora," Tessa sniffled. She wiped her face, turned on her heel, and hurried out, pulling the heavy doors shut behind her.

Silence settled over the room. Liora walked over to the bedside table and adjusted the oil lamps, turning the wicks up to their brightest setting. The golden light washed over Kaelen's rigid form. She rolled up her sleeves, fully prepared to utilize her medical expertise to check his pulse and examine his bleeding wounds.

Before she could even extend her hand, Kaelen's eyes shot open.

His gaze held a startling clarity, sharp and focused. He sat up slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at his back, but his posture remained steady.

"I am fine," he stated. His voice brimmed with unexpected confidence, lacking any weakness of a man on the brink of death.

Liora dropped her hand, stepping back to give him space. "So what happened out there?"

Kaelen shifted his weight, ignoring the stiffness radiating through his muscles. His icy, calculating gaze locked instantly onto her face, analyzing her every micro-expression.

"How did you know King Osric would attempt to set me up at the palace today?" he demanded.

During the agonizing ride back from the royal palace, Kaelen had spent the entire journey laying on that stretcher, faking unconsciousness while his mind raced. The timeline made no sense. The only logical explanation was that Tobias, Liora's father, uncovered the plot ahead of time. If Tobias knew, he was likely working directly for King Osric. That made this new bride standing in front of him a planted spy, positioned in his bedroom to ensure the king's treacherous trap succeeded.

He stared her down, his intimidating glare meant to shatter her composure. Any typical noblewoman of the capital would have collapsed into a trembling, crying mess under that kind of intense pressure.

Liora met his intense stare without a flinch. She did not look nervous, nor did she break eye contact.

"I told you before," she maintained her previous alibi with steadfast conviction. "I have been having the same vivid dream for days. In those dreams, you go through this exact ordeal. Whether you believe me or not, that is the extent of my knowledge."

Kaelen searched her clear, steady eyes. He clearly harbored deep doubts, the silent suspicion simmering in his chest, but he chose to let the matter drop for the moment. There were larger threats looming over them than a prophetic dream.

He reached into his bloodstained robes and pulled out the thick cushion she had given him earlier. He tossed it onto the edge of the mattress.

Liora stared at the battered object. The fabric was torn to shreds, exposing the ruined stuffing inside, and dark smears of fresh blood coated the edges.

"Did you end up in the royal quarters? Did the king give you a hundred lashes?" Liora asked, checking the details against the historical records burned into her memory.

Kaelen shook his head. "No. By strictly adhering to your warning, I successfully bypassed his lethal trap."

He gestured to the mangled cushion. "I refused to enter the royal quarters, citing the ancient law that men are forbidden inside those specific halls. King Osric was furious at not getting his way. He charged me with insubordination."

A dark shadow crossed Kaelen's face as he recounted the ordeal. Disobeying a direct royal command was technically a capital offense, but Osric knew he lacked the solid grounds to execute a military commander over a technicality. The backlash from the public and the military would have ruined the king's reputation. Forced to pivot, Osric ordered fifty brutal lashes for the insubordination, stepping away from the fatal hundred lashes intended for a fabricated treason charge.

"Thank you for the warning, and for the cushion," Kaelen said sincerely, his calculating tone softening just a fraction. "They are the only reasons I made it through the night alive."

Liora nodded, acknowledging his gratitude. She kept her expression neutral, but her mind spun with the impending timeline. The king failed to kill Kaelen tonight, which meant the backup plan would launch at dawn.

Kaelen watched her face. He sensed a lingering tension in her posture, a silent weight she had yet to share.

"Did anything else happen in your prophetic dream?" he pressed, his voice tightening. "Tell me the rest."

Liora did not hesitate. There was no point in softening the blow. "I dreamed the entire Vane family will have their property seized and be immediately sent into exile."

Absolute shock spread across Kaelen's pale face. The icy composure he maintained shattered, leaving his eyes wide with raw disbelief. "Seized? Sent into exile?"

"Yes," Liora confirmed bluntly. "If the timeline in my dream holds true, the raid will occur the very next morning."

"Tomorrow morning?" Kaelen repeated, his hands gripping the bedsheets.

"As soon as the lords gather in the great hall," Liora explained, her tone sharp and urgent. "Corrupt officials will step forward and present fabricated evidence. They plan to frame you for treason and colluding with the enemy. Once the accusation lands, the royal guards will storm this estate."

Kaelen sank into a heavy silence. Under normal circumstances, he would have laughed at such an outrageous claim. His family bled for this kingdom. They held the highest military honors.

But his back throbbed with the sting of fifty unearned lashes. Reflecting on the night's baseless, cruel punishment, he found himself forced to believe this strange woman he barely knew. King Osric had already tried to ruin him once tonight. A morning raid was the logical next step in a tyrant's paranoid purge.

A grim, hardened resolve settled over his features. The suspicion between them dissolved, replaced by a mutual understanding of the brutal reality they faced. Whether her foresight came from a dream or a hidden informant, the threat was real, and time was running out.

"Even if it is just a precaution, we must act immediately," Kaelen stated, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

He looked up at Liora, his gaze unified in their new shared purpose. Preparing for the worst was now their only viable option. If the royal guards kicked down the gates at dawn, the Vane widows needed to be ready. He refused to let his family be caught off guard and slaughtered like livestock.

"Send a servant to the other courtyards," Kaelen instructed, his voice carrying the authority of a battlefield commander. "Inform my mother and my sisters-in-law that I have returned from the palace seriously injured and unconscious."

Liora caught on instantly. "That will draw them all straight to this room."

"Exactly," Kaelen nodded grimly. "Once they are gathered here behind closed doors, I will reveal the truth. We need to prepare."