Chapter 437: Through The Mountains
Meanwhile, The crying echoed down the stone halls of Wyfkeep Castle like a haunting wind.
"Vivi! Uncle! Vivi!" little Rose wailed.
The small voice, thick with tears, belonged to a stubborn little girl with dark curls sticking to her tear-drenched cheeks. Little Rose—Princess Roselinde, but no one dared call her that—had been wailing for nearly an hour. No lullaby soothed her. No toy distracted her. No voice mattered unless it belonged to her two favorite people in the world: Uncle A. and Vivi—her childish name for Salviana.
The maids were at their wits’ end.
"She’s not sleeping. She won’t eat. Gods help us," one muttered, wringing her apron.
"We can’t summon Lady Salviana, she’s in hiding! We’d bring war to the door!"
"Can we—can we try Prince Warren?" another suggested. "She might listen to her father?"
They found him in one of the side wings, poring over scrolls he could barely read—his jaw tight, his hair a mess, and his eyes far too tired for a prince who rarely did anything royal. When they explained, he only nodded once and followed them in silence, his boots heavy with shame.
He tried. Gods, he tried.
"Rosie," he said, kneeling before her. "Vivi is... away. But I’m here. Papa’s here."
"I want Vivi!" she wailed and slapped at his hands when he reached for her. "And Uncle A.! You said he would come back! You said!" her words weren’t clear but she was saying it.