Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 195: The Search...

Chapter 195: The Search...

The sun shone brightly above as Evelina and Jasper galloped down the twisting roads that lined the cliffs of Arcadia’s western edge. Their horses raced along the dirt path, kicking up clouds of dust behind them.

They could feel the pressure of time pushing them forward—each heartbeat meant they were farther away from catching the Oakenshaw convoy and giving Luther a chance to escape without anyone knowing.

"We’re close!" Jasper called over the wind, pointing to a faint shimmer of movement down the slope ahead. "I see them—by the river bend!"

Evelina nodded without breaking stride. They galloped harder, the ache in her arms and the sting in her eyes ignored.

The royal convoy had paused near a narrow glade for a midday rest—dozens of carriages, horses, and soldiers stretching in long lines along the road’s shoulder. Oakenshaw banners fluttered lazily from their mounts, their silks glinting in the light.

As the two riders charged into sight, panic spread through the convoy quickly. Guards grabbed their weapons, and horses became restless. A clear command was shouted, and the entire convoy came to a stop.

"Two riders incoming!" one soldier shouted. "Halt the procession!"

The nearest cavalry officer raised his hand. "State your purpose!"

"Urgent business with Prince Kyle!" Evelina shouted as she pulled her horse to a hard stop, dismounting in one fluid motion. Her long cloak flared behind her like a banner of war. "Where is he?"

The guard hesitated at the sight of her. Then recognition dawned, and he quickly bowed. "This way, my lady."

Jasper slid off his horse beside her and followed as she strode toward the front of the line, where the Oakenshaw standards stood tallest.

There, Prince Kyle stood beneath a canopy, drinking from a silver flask with his father, King Alderic, seated beside him.

Kyle turned at the commotion, his expression shifting from relaxed diplomacy to wary confusion. "Evelina? What—"

She cut him off. "There may be a fugitive hiding in one of your carriages."

The words hit like a hammer. Instantly, guards tensed, hands flying to hilts.

King Alderic stood. "What nonsense is this?"

"It’s not nonsense, Your Majesty," Jasper said, stepping forward. "Please, let us check all your carriages."

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. "Why? Looking for some valuables?"

"Not so, Your Higness," Jasper said carefully, "We have reasons to believe that someone may have used the confusion of departure to smuggle themselves inside."

Evelina said, "We think the old tunnel might link the prison to the south courtyard where the carriages used to wait. If we’re mistaken, we’ll apologise and just leave right away."

Kyle exchanged a look with his father, who gave a tight nod. "Very well. Check the carriages. Start from the rear and move up front."

They moved quickly, weaving past startled nobles and grumbling knights. When they reached the last cart, Jasper’s stomach knotted.

The canvas flap was still drawn shut, secured by nothing more than a latch of twine.

He stepped forward and untied it.

The curtain lifted.

Inside, curled in a nest of blankets and rations, laid Seraphina.

She blinked up at them, startled but not afraid. Her golden hair was tousled, and her boots were still caked with the mud of Arcadia. She opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes locked with her brother’s—and froze.

"Seraphina?" Kyle’s voice dropped an octave as he took in the sight before him in disbelief. "What in the gods’ names are you doing here?"

She winced, brushing hay from her dress. "Hi, brother."

King Alderic himself dismounted from his gilded carriage, brows furrowed, his expression darkening as he took in the sight of his youngest daughter. "Seraphina?"

She straightened up, chin held high despite the flush in her cheeks. "I wanted to see Arcadia. I thought I could do it quietly, without causing trouble."

"And you hid in a supply cart like a smuggler?" Kyle’s face had turned an alarming shade of red. "Gods above, do you realize what could’ve happened?"

"I wasn’t alone," she protested. "Jasper knew—he helped."

All eyes turned to Jasper.

He stepped forward and dropped to one knee, head bowed. "I take full responsibility, Your Majesty. I escorted her in under her request, thinking it was a harmless act of curiosity. And I can assure you she didn’t get into anything... nefarious."

Alderic’s piercing gaze settled on him. "So you admit to aiding a royal in secret travel across kingdom lines?"

"Not exactly, sire. I only helped her blend in."

For a moment, it looked as if the king might explode—but then he let out a slow, exhausted sigh. "You’re lucky she’s unharmed. And lucky, too, that Arcadia still stands after this recklessness."

Kyle paced, his anger more visible. "What if we’d been ambushed? What if someone had recognised her and used her as leverage?"

"I can take care of myself," Seraphina snapped. "I’m not some delicate—"

"Enough." Alderic cut her off, voice steely. "We’ll speak of this at length when we return to Oakenshaw. For now, you’re to remain visible at all times. No more hiding, no more stunts. Am I clear?"

Seraphina looked down, abashed. "Yes, Father."

Evelina stepped forward then, speaking in a composed and regal tone. "My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty. We had no intention of disrupting your journey or casting suspicion on your people. However..." her voice lowered slightly, "we have reason to believe that a high-value prisoner may have used this convoy as an escape route. Lord Luther is missing from our dungeons."

Alderic’s frown deepened. "Luther? The traitor?"

"Yes. We cannot ignore the possibility that he slipped aboard under the cover of darkness."

Kyle’s gaze sharpened at that. "He wouldn’t dare. Not with her aboard."

"Unless," Evelina said softly, "he didn’t know. Or didn’t care."

The king nodded grimly. "Search every carriage. Top to bottom. Then we’ll be on our way."

It took over an hour.

Every crate, satchel, and false panel was ripped apart, and still—no sign of Luther. No lingering trace of arcane residue, no footprints, no scent for the hounds to catch. If he’d escaped via the convoy, he was either a ghost... or long gone.