Chapter 103: Caught!

“Princess!”

The voice cracked through the hallway like a whip, sharp and unmistakably done with her. Ilaria froze mid-tiptoe, one foot still lifted like she’d been caught trying to sneak off a battlefield. She turned her head slowly to find Melyn standing with arms crossed, lantern raised, eyes blazing beneath it.

“…Melyn!” Ilaria squeaked, her shock far too dramatic to be believable. “Wh–what a surprise! Fancy seeing you here!”

Melyn blinked. They were in the royal family’s private corridor. At nearly three in the morning. And here she was, in her nightgown, barefoot, slipping past the pillars and walls like a pretty little thief.

“Oh yes,” Ilaria continued, nodding with an enthusiasm that would have embarrassed a squirrel. “Gorgeous night for… walking and admiring the ceilings. Don’t you love how, um, ceiling-shaped they are?”

To prove her point, she looked up, only to instantly regretted it because the corridor ceiling was utterly plain.

Ilaria stood there like guilt given human shape. Her back slightly hunched, shoulders squeezed up to her ears, hair half-fallen from its braid like she’d wrestled a curtain on her way here.

Her eyes were wide and glossy, the exact look of a child pretending she had not eaten any pastries while still holding crumbs on her lips. She clutched her nightgown closed too tightly at the collar, making the silk bunch up awkwardly.

Then, if only to ease the tension, Ilaria clapped her hands together as if that could somehow build a normal atmosphere out of thin air. She even tried whistling, except she could not whistle, so all that came out was an awkward little wheeze.

“Your Highness.” Melyn inhaled through her nose, looking at her with a patience of a lady who almost lose her mind. “You disappeared from the chambers. Half the guard was sent to search for you. Do you know what it looks like when we cannot find you?”

Ilaria shrank an inch. “…very concerning?”

“Chaotic,” Melyn corrected sharply. “We had soldiers checking under tables. Someone even opened a bread oven.”

“It’s warm in there,” Ilaria mumbled under her breath.

Melyn pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to hide,” Ilaria whispered, pouting harder. “I was just… appreciating the architecture.”

“By creeping through a sealed gallery alone in the middle of the night?” Melyn asked.

Huh?!

Ilaria’s head snapped toward her, genuinely affronted. “How did you know I was in there? I was quiet!”

Melyn stared at her, unimpressed. “The guards saw you crawling behind a statue like a startled squirrel. And another saw you trying to hide behind a pillar with your arm showing,” she shook her head. “You were not subtle at all.”

“…Oh,” Ilaria muttered, eyes widening as she remembered how she had ’successfully’ evaded the guards’ eyes. Turns out it was the opposite. She insisted. “But I was stealthy.”

“You were scurrying.”

“I was carefully navigating the hallway!”

“You bumped into a column,” Melyn replied. “Twice.”

Ilaria’s cheeks puffed with mortified indignation. She crossed her arms, shoulders slumping. “Fine. I’m sorry.”

Melyn sighed, rubbing her temple like she had aged ten years. “If you keep sneaking out like this, someone will mistake you for an intruder, or worse they will think you’re trying to escape your own palace.”

“I wasn’t escaping,” Ilaria muttered, lip jutting out. “I was just… investigating.”

“At midnight, alone and barefoot.”

Ilaria pressed her pout tighter. “…In hindsight, I see how that looks.”

Melyn closed her eyes for a long, resigned moment. “Come.”

She stepped forward, gripping the lantern with one hand as if it was the last shred of sanity she possessed. With the other, she guided Ilaria toward the corridor. Ilaria walked alongside her at first with small, chastened steps, head down, letting Melyn lecture her about safety, protocol, and appropriate hours for curiosity.

“Spirits don’t keep office hours, Princess, but royalty should. And sealed places are sealed for a reason. The wardens don’t spend days chanting over something just so you can stroll in and hum at ghosts.”

“I wasn’t humming at anything,” Ilaria frowned.

“Then what are you doing? Why go back when you had nothing but bad memories there?” Melyn grumbled. “If you wanted to die in a ritual, there are forms for that.”

A gasp. “I wasn’t trying to die—”

“And what if something had harmed you?” Melyn pressed. “What then? Would you have gone, ’Hello Blithe, please don’t harm me, I’m just admiring the architecture’?”

Ilaria opened her mouth.

Melyn cut her off. “Because that’s exactly what you would have done.”

Ilaria’s cheeks burned. “…Maybe.”

“Exactly. If you had questions, you could have asked a priest. If you needed guidance, you could have spoken to His Highness. And if you must investigate at night, you take at least six guards and a bell.”

“What does the bell do?” Ilaria muttered, tilting he head in wonder.

“It lets the rest of us know you’re still alive.”

“Oh,” Ilaria echoed, small and defeated, as if the bell alone had crushed her spirit.

Melyn exhaled through her nose, a sharp, weary sound, less anger now, more resignation. She gave Ilaria a look that said we will revisit this later, then turned her heel toward the main corridor.

“Come,” she said, guiding her forward with a light push at the elbow. “Let’s go back. His Highness is waiting.”

Ilaria’s feet stopped moving. Not a stumble, not even a hesitant step. She froze where she stood, spine locking like someone had poured ice water down her back.

Melyn walked three more steps before realizing she was dragging empty air. She looked over her shoulder. Ilaria had pivoted an inch away from her, eyes wide, shifting her weight like a small animal sniffing for an escape route.

“…?”

Ilaria offered a shaky smile, inching backward. “Maybe we don’t need to go back right now?”

Melyn took a careful step toward her, hand outstretched. “What are you saying? Come now. His Highness—”

Ilaria sidestepped, small and quick. “I just… needed a moment to… appreciate the night air!”

“…The night air?” Melyn repeated. She advanced another step. “You’ve been missing for hours. Everyone is—”

Ilaria shuffled another step back, pressing her hands together as if in prayer. “I thought I could sneak back unnoticed! And maybe… stretch my legs?”

Melyn stopped, lowering her hand in defeat for just a second before reaching again. “You nearly gave half the palace a heart attack. Stop tiptoeing—”

Ilaria leapt aside again, eyes wide. “I’m… I’m not tiptoeing! I’m… stealthily returning!”

Melyn’s patience frayed, lips pressed in a thin line, looking at Ilaria like she was close to lifting her and drag her back herself.

Ilaria offered her best guilty smile, as if she were a puppy caught chewing shoes. “Uh… maybe I just… need a moment to prepare my… face before facing him.”

Melyn did not fancy it though. She stepped closer again, taking firm hold of Ilaria’s elbow. “No, you will come now. Enough theatrics. The prince is—”

Ilaria froze mid-step again, head tilting like a deer caught in headlights. “I… I… okay! I’m coming! But can we take the scenic route?”

Melyn’s exhale could have blown out the lantern. “No scenic routes. Straight to the chamber.”

Ilaria shuffled her feet, trying to slow the pace but Melyn’s grip on her elbow was firm and unyielding. “Mel, I need a moment to breath!”

“No, that moment has passed.” She began practically dragging Ilaria down the corridor, one careful step at a time like she was guiding a cat that refused to walk in a straight line.

Ilaria’s feet scraped lightly, half-dragged, half-stubbornly planted. “Melyn! I can walk! I swear! I… I just need—”

“You’ve had your ’need’,” Melyn cut in, stepping faster. “The prince is waiting. And you will walk directly to him, or I will carry you like a sack of Hallowbloom.”

Ilaria froze mid-protest, blinking at the suggestion. “You wouldn’t actually!”

Melyn’s hand tightened slightly. “Try me.”

Ilaria sighed, giving in to the inevitable, trudging along beside her with a dramatic slump of the shoulders. “Fine, fine. But… Melyn,” she whispered in a tone just light enough to betray her worry, “I’m not… in trouble, am I?”

Melyn turned her head slightly, voice sweet and measured as poisoned tea. “The palace is currently searching for a missing princess. Would you like me to repeat the question back to you, or shall I fetch a mirror so you may see the answer yourself?”

Ilaria’s stomach lurched. She gulped and peeked up at Melyn, trying for a sheepish grin. “Ah… maybe we don’t need the mirror…”

Melyn kept moving, guiding Ilaria forward with a grip that brooked no nonsense. “Mirrors optional. Obedience not optional. Now let’s go.”

Ilaria shuffled, cheeks burning, the perfect mix of embarrassment and reluctant compliance, thinking, Oh no. Oh no, oh no… my husband is going to kill me.

They reached the familiar polished wood of Levan’s chamber door. Ilaria’s chest swelled with a mix of relief because finally she had made it back, but also dread because she she just knew what would happen.

Ilaria barely had time to breathe before the door swung open and Levan appeared. He looked… raw. The usual composure that made him seem untouchable was gone, replaced with a tense, coiled energy that made the room itself seem smaller.

His shoulders were rigid, every line of his face sharpened as if carved from steel. Golden eyes burned with a simmering intensity, catching the lantern light like molten metal. Even the way he stood with his boots planted and fists barely clenched at his side spoke of a man straining to contain a storm he had no intention of tempering.

Ilaria’s stomach dropped. Her chest tightened and her knees felt suddenly weak. Every plan to appear casual, every tiny hope that maybe he had not noticed evaporated under the weight of his glare. Her hands fumbled at her sides. Her face fell, the colour draining as she realized there was no charming smile, no softening word, no escape from the intensity in his gaze.

“…Hi,” she managed, her voice small and trembling, like a bird trapped in a cage trying desperately to sound nonchalant while knowing she had failed spectacularly.

And oh… Levan was not having any of it.

“Inside. Now.”

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