CHAPTER 184: DANCE WITH ME

Liora stared at her trembling hands, her voice a whisper lost in the quiet of the room. "I did not... I swear I did not..."

"She’s lying," Evelyne interrupted coldly. "She seduced the stable boy and was caught in the act."

The words cut through the air like a knife. Liora flinched. Seduce? The accusation was absurd and vile. Her chest tightened with the weight of humiliation, not just because of the lie, but because her aunt’s voice carried no hesitation. No mercy.

Lucien’s gaze remained unreadable. A part of her had hoped even now that he might see the truth in her. That he might defend her. That someone might.

But his silence was damning.

"You see, Your Highness," Evelyne said, turning to him now, her tone sickeningly sweet. "It is not our daughter who is unsuitable. It is her. My husband and I discussed it thoroughly. We would never subject your Highness to scandal."

Her husband. Hector. Liora turned toward the man who once held her hand after her parents’ funeral. The man who once kissed her forehead and told her she’d be safe. He stood there, silent, face stern, as if none of that had ever happened.

"She ruined our family’s name. We have no choice but to disown her. Please accept our true daughter..."

"I’m not her," Liora whispered.

Everyone fell silent.

"I’m not her daughter," Liora said louder now, her eyes narrowing at Evelyne. "You made sure to remind me of that every day."

Evelyne’s eyes darkened.

"You fed me lies. Blamed me for being a burden. You looked at me as if I were dirt under your shoes. And now that you’ve had your fill of your own plans, you’ve come to offer someone else in my place?"

Lucien tilted his head slightly.

"I didn’t ask to be here," Liora continued. "You pushed me into this place...into this marriage...so you could rid yourself of me. You never cared whether I lived or died."

A moment passed. A long, heavy moment where no one breathed.

And then Lucien finally moved.

He stood slowly from his chair, every inch of him composed, calm, and terrifying. His eyes landed on Evelyne. "I agreed to accept the daughter of the Miral household. I received Liora Miral. Do you wish me to believe that now she is not your daughter?"

"She was adopted...merely out of pity..." Evelyne sputtered.

Lucien’s voice cut cleanly. "And now, she is my concubine. That makes her untouchable under palace law."

Evelyne’s face paled. Hector stepped forward as if to speak, but Lucien raised a hand.

"This is no longer a household matter. She belongs to the royal family now."

Liora’s heart thudded against her ribs. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or laugh. He wasn’t defending her. He was declaring ownership.

And yet, in that twisted way, it saved her.

Lucien turned to Edgar. "Escort them out."

"My lord," Edgar bowed, already moving toward the stunned couple.

Evelyne opened her mouth to protest, but Lucien’s next words froze her.

"If you breathe even one more word against my concubine’s honor, I will have your family name struck from the noble registry."

Evelyne gasped. "You wouldn’t dare!"

Lucien’s smile was cold. "Try me."

The moment Liora stepped through the high arch of the estate, she felt it. The air here was different...not just colder, but heavier, almost watchful. She clutched the fur-lined shawl tighter around her as she followed the steward past stone corridors and flickering sconces, each corner echoing with ghostly whispers from a life she had never imagined for herself.

"This way, Lady Liora," Edgar said, his voice cutting through the silence.

They passed a large window. For a fleeting second, Liora paused. Outside, the darkened gardens spread endlessly, cloaked in moonlight and mystery. She could almost picture the late Lady Seraphina walking those paths. A sharp pang of unease sliced through her.

The doors to the bedchamber creaked open, revealing a grand yet cold room. Curtains swayed like silent sentinels, and the hearth burned low. A lone figure stood near the fireplace...tall, cloaked in black, back to her.

Lucien Blackthorne.

"You may leave," he spoke without turning, voice sharp and disinterested.

The steward bowed and slipped out, leaving the door to sigh shut behind him.

Liora hesitated. Her gaze lingered on the back of the man who now controlled her fate. She remembered the whispers...of a monster, of a murderer, of a prince cast aside. But what she saw was the back of a man carved by war and pain.

She took a step forward.

He finally turned.

Their eyes met.

And in that moment, the truth settled like fog between them.

Neither had wanted this union. Both had been betrayed. And yet, They stood on the threshold of something neither of them could name.

The rest of the evening played out like a quiet performance, where every word was weighed, every movement rehearsed, and every silence intentional.

Liora hadn’t touched her wine since the toast. Her hand rested on the goblet, fingers curled around the stem, but she never lifted it to her lips. Across the table, Lucien watched her out of the corner of his eye, speaking little. The nobles around them laughed and exchanged pleasantries, but the air between the two was electric with unsaid thoughts.

When the music began again, an elegant piece played by the court’s string ensemble, Prince Alden rose and extended a hand to his queen. Ellora accepted with practiced grace, her smile poised as she stood beside him.

The gesture triggered a wave of others rising from their seats. Couples began drifting toward the dance floor, a sea of silk, gold, and glittering stones swaying to the rhythm. Liora moved to excuse herself when she felt a presence behind her.

"Dance with me."

Lucien’s voice was soft, low enough for only her to hear. She turned, surprised. He stood, hand extended, face unreadable.

Liora hesitated. "Now?"

"If you keep standing there, I’ll take it as a rejection," he said, a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth.

Her fingers slid into his gloved hand before she could stop herself. The warmth of his palm beneath the silk gloves surprised her. He led her to the dance floor, slipping effortlessly into rhythm, one hand around her waist, the other holding hers lightly.

"I thought you didn’t dance at court events," she said, gaze drifting to the side to avoid the growing number of eyes on them.

"I don’t." His voice dropped a little. "But they’re watching. Let them see."

Liora’s chest tightened. "What do you want them to see?"

Lucien looked down at her, expression unreadable. "That you’re mine."

The words struck harder than she expected. Her gaze flicked up to his, stunned.

"This is a game to you?" she whispered.

"No." His fingers squeezed hers gently. "It was never a game."

They moved together in near-perfect harmony, Liora’s steps instinctively matching his. Whispers bloomed along the edges of the dance floor. Nobles nudged one another, whispering behind fans, analyzing every glance and turn.

"You’re going to make enemies," she said. "With every step you take beside me."

"I’ve had worse," Lucien replied. "But you..." He leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. "...you’re going to need a stronger spine. They’ll come after you harder now."

"I don’t care about them," Liora said, chin lifting.

He pulled back enough to see her face. "Good. Because I’m not planning to let go."

The dance ended far too soon, the music trailing into a slow close. But Lucien didn’t let go of her hand. He escorted her back to their table, and for the rest of the evening, they remained side by side. Not speaking much, but their silence was louder than conversation.

The queen stole a glance toward them. So did Prince Alden. But neither said a word.

Whatever had begun between Liora and Lucien had become visible to the court now. And the consequences...good or bad...would follow.

The women at the table stopped chatting when Lucien entered. Their smiles stiffened, and their eyes flickered with wariness. One of them, Lady Mirelle, rose from her seat and offered a curtsy, her movements graceful but cautious.

"Prince Lucien," she greeted. "We were just admiring the gardens."

"I’m sure you were," he replied coolly, his gaze sweeping over the table before resting on Liora.

She straightened in her seat but didn’t rise. Her hand clutched her shawl tighter, masking the racing of her heart. He hadn’t acknowledged her directly, but she felt the weight of his attention like a storm pressing against the windows of her mind.

Lucien turned his eyes to Lady Mirelle. "Enjoy your day," he said curtly, then to the guards, "Escort Lady Miral to my residence."

Gasps erupted around the table.

Lady Mirelle blinked. "Pardon, my lord?"

Lucien ignored her, stepping closer to Liora now. "You’ve had your tea. It’s time."

Time? For what? Liora rose to her feet slowly, trying to conceal her trembling.

The guards flanked her silently, and the nobles watched, eyes wide with curiosity and fear, none daring to intervene.

Liora followed Lucien through the marble halls, unsure whether she was being rescued or sentenced.