CHAPTER 120: WHERE IS SHE?

"I am bringing her back," Leroy declared, his voice rough beneath the mask. Then his eyes cut to Sylvia, burning through her hesitation. "You’re coming with me."

He believed deeply that she would be there. Where else would she go?

Sylvia’s breath caught. To the tunnels? Sylvia’s eyes widened, panic and resolve colliding. She wanted to find the princess more than anything—but with the prince? He had not explained how he even knew of the hidden passageways. Had he found old blueprints? Or... how far had he already gone in those tunnels? How much did he find out?

Her chest tightened. She knew the princess wouldn’t be hiding in the tunnels. But where would she have gone? She didn’t know what to do, except that finding the princess was the only priority. She could guide him to the tunnels that led toward the city. From there... she would slip away to search on her own. Someone, anyone, must have seen Lorraine.

She was scared for the princess. Almost unconsciously, her eyes flicked toward Aldric. She hadn’t even meant to look at him, but in the flickering candlelight, her gaze found his—and held.

"You know the tunnels beneath the red-light district, don’t you? I heard of the dungeon down there." Leroy asked suddenly.

Sylvia froze. Her heart skipped a beat. The... red-light district?

"The red-light district?" Her voice shook. "Why would we go there? The princess would never—she wouldn’t—"

Her throat closed under the weight of Leroy’s stare. Cold, unyielding. She stumbled back without realizing. He knew something... or everything. Or... was she wrong? Did he think she went there to find pleasures or for a simple stay? But women of her stature wouldn’t enter there and that would be grounds for condemnation.

What did the prince mean by that?

"He knows, Sylvia," Aldric said quietly.

Her head whipped toward him. Wide eyes. "He—what?" The prince knows? And Aldric knows that the prince knows? So... Aldric knew all along too? And... what do they know?

The world tilted under her. She blinked rapidly, looking at Emma, who looked just as stunned, her lips parted in silence.

"I don’t know what you’re talking—"

"I know Lorraine is Lazira," Leroy cut her off, voice like steel, "and the Swan Divina." He didn’t want to waste time discussing everything.

Sylvia’s stomach dropped. He knows.

Her knees nearly buckled. How long had he known? How? Did that mean he knew the princess could speak and hear? Why had he kept silent? What game had he been playing with them all this time?

Nothing made sense anymore.

"If she’s in those tunnels, I have to find her," Leroy said, folding the parchment with sharp precision before slipping it into his pocket. His voice left no room for argument.

Sylvia’s gaze darted helplessly to Aldric.

"I’ll go with you," Aldric said firmly, stepping closer.

Leroy’s head shook once. "No. You stay. In case..." His eyes darkened behind the mask, the implication heavy.

Aldric’s jaw tightened. He remembered the chaos earlier that day. Leroy was right. Trouble could still come knocking, and someone had to be here to face it.

------

Sylvia walked ahead in the tunnels, her lantern casting long, thin shadows against the damp stone walls. Leroy’s presence trailed just behind her—steady, heavy, inescapable. She didn’t dare look back at him, not with the mask hiding his expression and his silence weighing on her like a blade at her nape. She wasn’t sure how much he knew, or how much she could risk revealing, but none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was finding the princess.

"Do you have access to everywhere she does?" Leroy’s voice cut through the air, low and controlled, yet vibrating with something close to desperation.

Sylvia nearly flinched. "Yes, Your Highness," she murmured. Her throat tightened. He hadn’t brought her because he trusted her; he had brought her because he already knew. He knew she was Lorraine’s shadow, her right hand, her secret keeper.

And if he knew that... did that mean he had known before he had touched the Swan Divina?

They emerged into the red-light district as dawn’s gray light began to lift the streets from shadow. The air smelled of wine, perfume, and fading smoke. Sylvia moved through the familiar alleys, asking questions in hushed urgency, keeping the secret that "Lazira" was missing. The brothel keepers, the women leaning in doorways, the boys running errands... all blinked in dread to see her alone without Lazira, but that was not that uncommon, as sometimes she did walk alone here... when something dangerous was coming.

Leroy, standing back with his arms folded, understood immediately. Lorraine had been careful. She had never let this maid accompany her publicly, in the aristocratic circles. That role always fell to the younger girl who was plausible and innocent, while Sylvia remained invisible in the wings. Hidden, but aware of everything.

Lorraine... his clever, secretive wife. Where are you, my little mouseling?

He ached to tear through the district, to demand answers with steel and fire, but one wrong move would spread panic. If word reached the wrong ears that the Crown Princess of Kaltharion was missing... No. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to bring her back silently.

Hours stretched thin. The sky began to pale toward dawn. His pulse quickened. Divina only ever revealed herself at the first light, before the sun crowned the horizon. He hurried to the tower where her figure usually appeared like a phantom. Empty. Cold.

The dread in his chest deepened.

He and Sylvia descended into the dungeons. The guards there glowered with hollow, pitiless eyes—men who would rather bare their blades than answer questions. They shifted uneasily at Leroy’s presence, but when Sylvia stepped forward, they moved aside. She was known here. Respected. Trusted.

Yet the cells were barren. Lorraine was nowhere. Even the "throne room" was empty.

And now... Leroy was hollow. For the first time, he didn’t know where else to search. He told Sylvia to return to the tunnels, his voice rasped and final, while he turned down another street, refusing to stop.

There was one place left.

Hadrian Arvand.

If she wasn’t here, if she hadn’t been in the tower or the dungeon, then there was only one other shadow that could have swallowed her.

-----

In the suffocating dark, Hadrian stirred. His eyes dragged open to nothing. No flicker of light, only a void pressing in. The air stank like a sewer, twisting his stomach.

Fragments of memory surfaced: the carriage, his useless daughter beside him, the plans he had for her. Then... IMPACT. Splintering wood. Horses screaming. The world lurching sideways.

He tried to rise, but the iron chains bit deep. Shackles bound his wrists and ankles, the chain allowing only the scrape of his boots against damp stone.

"Who’s there?" he barked, voice still laced with command. Captive or not, he would not sound broken.

Silence. Then, faintly... he heard the rattle of chains deeper in the dark.

His jaw clenched. They had her, too.

But who dared to take me?