The Hidden Princess

Chapter 7

The study fell into horrified silence.

Ethel stood abruptly, pacing to the window. His mind was racing, his heart pounding. He'd thought he was saving his sister from neglect. He'd had no idea he was stealing the prize at the center of an international conspiracy.

"She's in danger from everyone," he said quietly. "The Emperor. The court. Foreign kingdoms. Treasure hunters. Assassins. Everyone."

"Yes," Bernard said.

"Then we can't keep her here," Ethel said, turning back to face them. "This estate is too close to the capital. Too accessible. If anyone discovers she's here—"

"They'll kill us all and take her," Lysander finished, voicing what everyone was thinking.

Coralline had been sitting in thought, her expression troubled.

"There... there might be a place," Coralline said hesitantly. "A place where she'd be safe."

Everyone turned to look at her.

Coralline hesitated, gathering her thoughts.

"My maternal family built a castle during the Civil War, two hundred years ago. It was meant to be an emergency refuge—a place to escape if we were ever in mortal danger."

"Where?" Bernard asked.

"In the Nagitrious Forest," Coralline said. "In the dead center."

The name sent a chill through the room.

"The Nagitrious Forest?" Ethel said flatly. "That's a death sentence. How did they even—"

"It was an accident, originally," Coralline interrupted.

"One of my ancestors—a sorcerer—was obsessed with magical experimentation. He spent his entire life creating enchanted items, gadgets, scrolls, relics. Anything he could think of. He was particularly fascinated by teleportation magic."

Lysander leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite himself.

"One day," Coralline continued, "one of his experiments went wrong. He was accidentally transported somewhere completely random. When he finally got his bearings, he realized he was standing in the middle of an enormous clearing—perfectly circular, not a single tree. Surrounded on all sides by the densest, most dangerous forest in the kingdom."

"The Nagitrious," Bernard said.

"Yes. But here's the thing about my ancestor—he was so used to his experiments going wrong and transporting him to random locations that he'd developed a habit. He always carried his dimensional storage bag with him, and inside there was everything he needed for his safety. He also brought with him his newly invented teleportation device. It was fortunate that his device worked at all. He then set up a portal system in the center of the forest."

"So he escaped," Ethel said.

"He escaped," Coralline confirmed.

"And when he told the family about the clearing—this impossible safe space in the middle of the death forest—they realized its potential. A place no enemy could reach. A place so dangerous that just getting there would kill anyone who tried."

"So they built the castle," Lysander said, already seeing the logic.

"They refined the portal," Coralline said. "Created a two-way portal system. One portal to send people and supplies to the clearing, one to bring them back. Then they built the castle, stone by stone, using the portal to transport workers and materials."

"But it failed," Ethel said. "You said it was a failed project."

Coralline's expression darkened. "During construction, they used the portals constantly. Hundreds of workers transported back and forth, day after day, month after month. Tons of materials. The strain on the enchantments was enormous."

She paused. "The return portal broke first. Just... stopped working. The workers who were at the castle when it failed were stranded. They tried to walk back through the forest."

"And none survived," Bernard finished grimly.

"Yes," Coralline confirmed quietly. "The sending portal still works—we've tested it over the years with supplies. But the return portal is broken. Anyone we send there would be trapped forever."

Ethel leaned forward, his mind working through the logistics. "Wait. If your ancestor had a teleportation device that could bring him back from random locations—why didn't they just use that device to access the castle? Why build the portal system at all?"

Coralline's expression turned rueful. "Because that device was a prototype. My ancestor's first successful attempt at personal teleportation magic. It was crude, unstable, and powered by a mana crystal of exceptional purity—the kind that's nearly impossible to replicate even today. After he used it to escape the forest, the crystal shattered from the strain. It was truly lucky that it even worked."

"Can it be rebuilt?" Lysander asked, already seeing where this was going.

"According to the records it was mentioned that he tried," Coralline said. "For years, he tried to recreate it. But the original device had been a fluke—a combination of rare materials and experimental enchantments that he could never quite duplicate. The crystals of that purity were already becoming scarce even then. By the time he died, the prototype was destroyed and the knowledge of how to recreate it was incomplete."

Bernard nodded slowly, understanding. "So instead of trying to rebuild an unreliable personal device, they decided to construct a permanent portal system. Something stable, large enough to transport workers and materials, anchored to specific locations."

"Exactly," Coralline confirmed. "The two-way portal was supposed to be the reliable solution. They spent years perfecting the design, testing it extensively before construction began. It worked flawlessly for decades." Her voice dropped. "Until it didn't."

Ethel sat back, the pieces falling into place. A brilliant but unreproducible prototype. A permanent portal built to replace it. And now both were lost—one an unreliable prototype that no longer exists, the other broken by centuries of strain.

"So you want to send Elizabeth to a castle she can never leave," Ethel said, his voice hollow.

"Surrounded by a forest that kills anyone who tries to enter or exit."

"It's the only place she'll be safe," Coralline said desperately. "We can send her supplies through the portal—food, books, medicine, anything she needs. We can send letters. She won't be completely alone. And as long as she stays inside the castle, she'll be protected. The forest is the perfect barrier. No assassin, no army, no treasure hunter can reach her there."

"Because they'd die trying," Lysander observed, keeping his tone analytical rather than emotional. Inside, his mind was working.

"Yes," Coralline admitted. "But that's what makes it perfect. And..." She hesitated. "The sorcerers, witches, and alchemists of today are far more advanced than they were two hundred years ago. Surely someone can fix the portal problem. Surely we can find a way to make it two-directional again, or to create a safe path through the forest. It's not permanent. It's just... until we can find a solution."

"No!" Ethel's voice cracked. "It's too risky! There is no certainty that we can get my sister back!"

"Your Highness," Coralline said gently, "I am sure we can find a way to fix the portal. We will not send her until we make sure that there's a chance to fix the portal."

"Yes," Bernard added carefully. "We will search for more information using the Guild, with your permission. If we find a chance that it can indeed be fixed, then we have to consider this plan, Your Highness."

The study fell into heavy silence.

Ethel felt like he was being torn apart. "So I'm supposed to lock her in a castle. Alone. Surrounded by monsters. Just like my father locked her in the East Wing."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm no different then.

"It's not the same," Bernard said firmly. "Your father starved her and tortured her. We'll send her everything she needs. We'll communicate with her regularly. We'll work every single day to find a way to bring her back."

"And how long will that take?" Ethel demanded. "Years? Decades? She's six years old! She'll grow up alone in that castle!"

"She'll grow up alive," Coralline said, her voice breaking. "The alternative is watching her be hunted down and killed by half the continent!"

Ethel turned back to the window, his shoulders shaking. He'd been so proud of himself for saving her. For rescuing his sister from that nightmare. And now he had to send her to another prison.

Ethel closed his eyes. The pain was unbearable. But he knew that they were right. Elizabeth couldn't stay here—too many eyes were watching him, and one wrong move might expose her.