The first places Dimone checked were the areas he’d been to with Cally. It was an obvious decision and certain to fail, yet he did it anyway, carefully and methodically.

As expected, he got absolutely no clues from that. He hadn’t expected it would, either, but the reality was still crushing.

Because for all Cally annoyed him, she was still his sister. And Rulan, she annoyed him! Her latest stunt with their father did not even touch the mountain of misdeeds only he knew about, the secrets she thought only she knew, and the embarrassing ways she was caught trying to go against their mother’s rules.

And yet, he could barely even remember any of that endless levity with his heart in his throat and his mind aching with the knowledge that his sister was out there, somewhere, possibly in the claws of someone who was not liable to accommodate her tantrums.

His eyes twitched. By Rulan, he hoped she actually had run off. At least her chances of survival increased exponentially without her being held by someone who might hurt her at the slgihtest inconvenience.

And if she wasn’t alone… hopefully, she was keeping her mouth shut.

He grimaced. Why couldn’t the little idiot have come pouting to him instead? He would have argued on her behalf! Even he knew Cally wasn’t ready for marriage — she might never be, but she certainly wasn’t now, barely having grown up only recently and forced into being a Princess. As children, she had only ever been that — a child. He was the crown prince; he had been since birth. But Cally had had a little leeway, and with their father gone for so long, warring against a monster even Dimone knew little about, and their mother busy running the kingdom, Cally had stayed a child longer than strictly necessary.

“My lord?” Kalloun said, his words as soft as his tone, appearing out of practically nowhere. While Dimone had looked for Cally at the usual places, he’d tasked Kalloun, who his mother had placed at his command – as if one guard would be enough – for the search, with looking for strangers or possible kidnappees, who Dimone wished to Rulan didn’t exist, but were a possibility he had to account for.

Still, hearing the man, Dimone twitched. He’d barely wrestled the guard down to that from ‘His highness’ and still he was overcome witht he urge to look around and make sure no one else caught on that the Crown Prince was out of the castle, searching for something. “Yes?” He asked.

Kalloun inclined his head. “There has been a man going around the capital. Before this, he was spotted in the next district over.”

Dimone’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t ask how he’d gotten the information so quickly, even across city lines, but he did make a mental note to get his mother’s permission to have Kalloun help him update his information network once this was over. “There’s news on him and the— my sister?”

Kalloun looked the slightest bit frustrated, which, for a man so controlled, was frankly telling. “Unfortunately not, my lord. But in terms of suspicious individuals in the area, most of my informants tell me he stands out. He apparently holds himself as a noble, but is disguised as a commoner, pays in gold and silver, and has been asking about–” He frowned and hesitated.

“Well?” Dimone demanded.

“... He’s been asking about the Caves of Belawain,” He said quietly, and there was something dark and heavy in his voice.

No one ever accused Dimone of being slow (except Cally, but she wasn’t there to do it this time). “What do they have to do with my sister?” He asked sharply. “The last of Belawain was lost in Grandfather’s time, was it not?”

Kalloun inclined his head again. “It was,” He agreed.

Dimone grit his teeth. “This is my sister we’re talking about,” He snapped. “What are you hiding from me?”

Kalloun looked down. “It is not something I am permitted to tell,” He said slowly.

There were a grand total of two people who held higher authority than Dimone. He scowled. “If it’s my Father, he’s certainly not endearing himself to me, either. Does he truly want to be in the bad graces of both his children?”

“It is not the King, my lord,” The man said.

Dimone’s fist clenched. “I see,” He said. There was a fraught second of silence. “What is news on this… stranger, then?” Because if there was in any way a connection, even if it was one his mother did not want him to understand, then he would follow. Cally’s safety depended on it.

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And once this was over, once Cally was safely home (to wed her arranged match or, more likely, not), he’d ask Queen Isera what Cally had to do with the fallen magical nation of Belawain.

For he remembered learning about the place in his history lessons – the ones Cally had obviously skipped out on. His tutor had brought it up almost hesitantly, and Dimone had understood why when he’d explained how the nation had fallen in large part due to the greed and madness of his Grandfather. It had made sense, then, why his parents had never mentioned their parents. Not that he or Cally had ever asked, really, considering their father was away most of their childhood. And when he’d come back—

The less said, the better.

Dimone didn’t blame the man, for he’d never really done anything to him. But it was souring to play mediator between his sister and his father. A father who spent time with him when he wouldn’t with Cally.

It made no sense.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was Belawain, the nation of magic. The kingdom that died at the hands of his grandfather. The kingdom whose remnants might actually be looking for revenge—

Oh.

But before he could put his realization into words, Kalloun started to speak. “He has scoured almost every tavern and inn. Every place where people gather and have news to share. He has not tried approaching the information guilds, but that is potentially because he does not know of them.” He pursed his lips. “My informants tell me he is from a different kingdom.”

“Which one?”

“He told the people it was Versaise,” Kalloun said.

Dimone frowned. “But?”

“His mannerisms did not seem so,” Kalloun admitted. “I may be wrong, as it is second-hand, but he may be hiding the truth of where he comes from.”

A shiver of cold snaked down Dimone’s spine. Then it was possible he was… He shook his head, taking a shuddering breath. “And is there any information on where he was headed? Perhaps anything on where he might have been taking Cally?”

Kalloun grimaced. “He asked of magic.”

Dimone closed his eyes. “Of course,” He murmured, his suspiciouns confirmed. “And who has magic?”

Kalloun hesitated again. “My lord, you may want to—”

“I asked who had magic, Kalloun,” Dimone said, cutting him off, his patience thinning. “I am your prince, and if you continue to hide behind commands that my mother may or may not have given, then you may as well return to her side and let her know why you have abandoned me to my quest when you were given specific instructions to help me to the best of your abilities.” His eyes narrowed. “Were you not?”

Kalloun bowed his head. “Yes, my lord,” He murmured in deference.

Dimone stared. “Who has magic?” He asked again, this time slowly enunciating every word with added, obvious frustration.

Kalloun did not look up. “There are two major magic-users within reach of this location,” He said. “The Lady of the Forest and the Lady of the Night.”

Dimone crossed his arms, spared another look around them, assuring himself they were alone, and then asked, “And? Who are they?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Which of them might be the one this stranger was looking for?”

Kalloun inhaled sharply. “The… Lady of the Forest is likely not the goal,” He said. “She has very scarce interaction with people outside her domain. She is known to be hostile, in fact, especially to other women.”

Dimone bit the inside of his cheek. “Let’s hope it’s not her, then,” He said under his breath, and then, to sate his curiosity, asked, “And to the men?”

Kalloun’s smile was rueful. “’Tis not much better,” He said. “More or them have returned than women, though it is little recompense, for the tales they carry are not easy to hear.”

Dimone scowled. “Then it’s the Lady of the Night,” He decided. “What do you know about her?”

There was something about Kalloun that changed at that question. Something glittered in his eyes, sparked in the air, and reminded Dimone so much of his mother that he had to jerk momentarily in his place, shocked. And then he spoke, and it was Kalloun’s voice, not his mother’s, and Dimone’s mind flailed. “The Lady of the Night has many more interactions with our people,” He agreed. “She trades her magic for amenities and other items from our markets.” He smiled slightly. “It’s a lucrative market, in fact, and one with very little supply.”

But great demand. Dimone made another mental note to check out magic markets. But later, when he had absolved magic of abducting his sister, and when his sister was back home. Safe. Happy. Well, perhaps not happy. She certainly hadn’t wanted that marriage—

He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts. It was time to concentrate, not wander. “Very well,” He said. “What else do you know of this witch?”

Kalloun stared at him for a moment too long, a second too uncomfortable, an inch too intensely, but before Dimone could rebuke him, he broke off. “Her name,” He said finally, his words clear enough to send a spike of unease through Dimone. “Is Artesia. Artesia Belawain.”