CHAPTER 408: THE WHISPER’S FLU

The fourth batch of tributes to be interviewed encompassed the women, excluding Evina of course since she’d previously had an... Unofficial meeting with Arabella.

Though even after such long hours, time wasn’t for resting just yet as the moment Silas and Persephone crossed paths, the coldest, most hair-raising argument sparked between them.

"I am informing you, she won’t be attending this gathering," Silas practically hissed.

"And why is that?" Persephone’s spine was the straightest Arabella had ever seen it.

"The last time we were in Dragomir’s company, tragedy ensued. I don’t even want to begin thinking what would happen under his very roof and where her father currently lives at that,"

"I believe, this time, Darrick will be too busy with matters of his own family to meddle in ours, don’t you think?"

"And you call her naive," Silas half asked, pointing at his wife while staring daggers at his mother.

"No offense, my dear," Persephone threw a quick glance her way, "What do you suggest then? That we barricade her in the manor? Not that leaving her behind kept her safe the last time we did that," she put a heavier weight on her words before turning back to face her vanity mirror.

For once, Arabella did not mind being left out of a disagreement that had to do with her specifically.

For once, being heard was the last of her worries as if in that moment, she did not stand between her husband and mother-in-law but instead, between comfort and duty to her new name.

"No but perhaps taking her straight to the enemy’s lair is too high of a leap for a starter," he took a step forward.

Did Arabella want to go over to the Dragomir abode? Not even if one paid her all the riches that the world had to offer.

However, on the other hand, there was no denying that Persephone’s concerns were well founded.

Her refusal to honor the invitation wouldn’t have blown up in their faces right then and there, but it would have left its mark on her record which would come back to haunt her somewhen down the long road ahead of her.

The fact that she only had a few decades to live compared to them was quite irrelevant since she carried their name and they’d have to shoulder the consequences way after her passing.

The thin brush Persephone pressed along her lips left a mat, hard colored, red band in its wake.

In her hand, that tool looked just as frail as unshakably precise. Perhaps it was the grace with which she held it and the confidence she used to wield it.

Two layers were enough to fully coat her lips, leaving her satisfied as well as free to stand up and spin around towards her son, "I understand your position more than you believe," the Lady sighed, "I am not saying she must come. I am saying, if she isn’t tagging along, you better give me a damn good reason to use when I will be there. So," her hand went on her hip, an expectant glare on her, "Do you, or do you not have a fireproof excuse?"

"I believe we do!" it was from Arabella that those words had escaped.

"Oh, goody! Let me hear it then!"

With the way Persephone had turned her full attention onto Arabella, the young woman quickly came to regret her boldness.

"You have a very odd way of saying what you mean, mother,"

Fortunately for her, Silas spoke up and garnered his mother’s focus again.

"There are things that cannot simply be laid out. I should hope you’ll learn to read between the lines someday. But for the time being," she pushed a sigh from deep within, "You at least, have someone that has that ability by your side so, that is a small bit of relief,"

No! That wasn’t it! In her face, Arabella did nothing but return a polite smile, however on the inside, her blood boiled.

Not in a million years would she ever have come to the conclusion that Persephone was hinting at.

That was in no way a matter of reading between the lines but reading minds at best.

"Whatever the case may be, I am ready to hear your perfect plan,"

Silas did as... Silas always did, gave up on trying to understand and moved on, "I was hoping we could use the same plan we concocted to keep the boy from being auctioned,"

Persephone’s eyes narrowed, "Go on," she nudged him verbally.

"Erik mentioned that when he came here, he left his sister in a grave state, battling an illness that required quarantine," Arabella picked up where Silas had left the story off, "It is a known, highly contagious ailment that mostly plagues people of the colder region,"

"It only affects humans and some mammals," said Silas.

"Does the boy have it?"

"He had it in his early childhood and thus is now immune to it, but his body still carries the virus around. After he’d confided this in me, I made sure to alert the medical wing in order to take preventative measures for our daytime staff as well as the other tributes,"

"Although, we believe that some tributes, namely those that hail from Regalis and regions other than the cold ones will soon begin to show symptoms,"

"So, we may have an outbreak on our hands and somehow, I only hear about this now? Where is all the gossiping that usually goes around when it is needed?" needing for fresh air, Persephone hastened towards the balcony doors before hurling them open and out of her way, "What the hell is this illness called anyway?"

"It is called the whispers’ flu, mother," Arabella mumbled.

"We’ve planned for some tributes to be... Gravely ill with this flu on the auction night," Silas put more weight when pronouncing ’gravely ill’, "They would have to be kept under Umbrarian custody at least until the next auction which will give us more time to think about Erik’s fate,"