CHAPTER 391: THE RIGHT/WRONG PICK

It was a good thing that none of the other ten tributes that followed were underage. Arabella could not have handled it.

Although, some did exhibit signs that they were there under false pretenses, against their will, of course.

Considering Silas’ reaction to Erik’s situation, she kept that information to herself that time around.

She sat on them, allowed them to fester and evolve into something much bigger that branched out of its initial box.

There were always going to be people that she wouldn’t be able to help, he had said. Oh, how right he was at that!

It was nothing but the truth and yet, the way he’d looked at her and the words he had picked to address those thoughts just stuck with her and refused to unclasp from around her throat.

Arabella found refuge in one of the smaller lounge rooms that was rarely in use, far from the daytime girls... At the very least for the hour that remained before sundown. The nighttime staff would have found her wherever she was in the manor.

The room still had a piano at one of its corners which had the merit of occupying her fingers and by extension soothing her mind.

She pressed on those keys without a plan or a melody in sight, allowing the most recent events to play on repeat like a broken record.

The crown prince was willing to go all that way just to spite and ruin as many parts of her life as he could, simply because she fled him.

Arabella had not the shadow of a doubt that he or the king would order the torture and execution of Erik and his family should their deception be brought to light.

Thanks to her father’s dealings, she was no stranger to fraud and exploitation. Those in charge did it so well that even those who saw their trickery for what it was stood without the means to fight it.

"Ada will soon flip the roof over its head looking for you,"

Silas’ voice did not incite the same reaction it usually did in her when she least expected it. Arabella barely turned his way before flinging her gaze back onto the piano board.

"I am sorry, but I feel as though I don’t have the capacity to smile on command," she muttered.

"Smile on command," he half asked.

In response, the young woman merely took a deep breath and straightened her posture.

"Today has taken a harsh toll on you, I see," he walked closer and towered over her figure.

"I figured it would," she said as one of her fingers pressed one lone key.

"Then perhaps carrying with the rest of them tomorrow isn’t such a good idea after all," he suggested.

Silas stood so close to her, his warmth came around her, but something was amiss with it. It didn’t wrap her whole and cradle her as it did before.

"Have you reported the situation to the syndicate yet?" instead of commenting on his latest sentence, she asked a question of her own.

The vampire took a moment to look at her or what she allowed him to see, since her back was turned to him.

"Perhaps I did not pick the right words to express my thoughts this morning," he placed a hand on her shoulder, "I didn’t mean to upset you,"

At once, she stood off the stool beneath her and made her way towards one of the windows in the room, "You were right," her hands went over the window frame, "You said everything right. There is no way I can help everyone in the world. I am just so... Stupidly naive that I believed there wouldn’t be a day where I would have to watch with folded arms as someone meets their fate right in front of me," by the end of her words, her voice had started to tremble. Subtle, but audible.

It left Silas stunned in place. For all the apologies he could give her, it still was the truth. Their reach and power simply didn’t extend that far.

Though he hung on his own previous words about how those were the wrong pick to express his thoughts.

"Isn’t there a way to verify the age of the tributes even before they arrive in your custody?" she brought him out of his bubble.

"There are spells that could remedy that predicament, but it would throw oil on a dormant fire since it’d insinuate lack of trust on our part," Silas took slow steps towards his wife.

"Politics truly are a hard field to step onto," she pushed a cold and calculated chuckle. The kind she wasn’t in the habit of issuing.

"I am sorry," that was all he managed.

"Don’t be," she spun around to face him, "I was born there, I shouldn’t be surprised. In fact, I don’t think I am surprised I just think I am tired,"

When his hands extended to cup her face in them, she slipped away, past him and declared, "Tonight isn’t going to be cold. I’d like to take a walk in the gardens before everything goes dark,"

With that, she left him alone there and ran off to her next destination. Silas debated for a few minutes whether he should follow or leave her be.

After all, if she really wanted his company, she would have invited him, wouldn’t she?

Her departure left an odd, foreign taste at the back of his throat and it wasn’t a pleasant one. The impression that Arabella was avoiding him as a whole wouldn’t leave him alone.

Even if he’d been right, it wasn’t uncommon for people to hold it against the bearer of the bad news.

So, perhaps she held it against him as unfair and irrational as it may have felt, he thought pushing it wouldn’t do them any good.

Then again, perhaps it was the choice of words and him blabbering about how he wouldn’t risk the reputation of his family that had that effect...

Whatever it was, Silas believed he wouldn’t get a concrete answer that same day and night.