The sky deepened into dusk, shadows bleeding across the mansion's walls. Sylvia cast a glance at Emma, who still sat slumped against the door, her fists raw from hours of knocking. Not a sound had come from within.
"Enough," Sylvia murmured, though her own chest was tight with unease. "She won't open for us like this." She wasn't even certain anymore if the princess was still inside. It was possible Lorraine had slipped out… but no. Never without a word. Never without a plan. Her lady was careful like that—too careful.
Also, she didn't get any news of Lazira or Divina making appearances in the red-light district. Also, the prince was here. The Princess wouldn't have gone there alone.
"I'll fetch her some soup," Sylvia said at last, her tone softening as she looked at Emma's tear-streaked face. The girl had been sobbing all day. Foolish, pitiful thing… yet her misery had a way of dissolving Sylvia's anger. Perhaps she would forgive her after all.
