Chapter 383: The seventy-eight
Faltering wasn’t an option, indeed.
Arumina’s words clung to the web of thoughts that governed her mind and refused to let go.
Her feet carried her weight but only barely. The rest of the lifting was done by Silas who offered his arm for support.
The day was gray as much like the previous moon, the sun too ducked behind some thick and unyielding clouds.
The young woman held the belief that the lack of shining rays played a role in aggravating the pressure that restricted her breaths.
The rear court held its peace as only nature spoke during the wait. Nobody other than the whistling of angered winds dared let out a whisper.
The human guards that worked for the Eleazar family stood tall and ready should any issue have risen.
Their head who Arabella got to know as Aron was by Silas’ side as well, his features somewhat shut, but among everyone that held space there, he was the only soul to show a semblance of emotion; impatience or so she thought it was.
But those beads of sweat dripping down his bald head held no candle to the churning in her own stomach. Breakfast threatened to exit from whence it came and her once comfortable dress had all of the sudden turned so tight, it was a miracle it still covered her body.
"It won’t be long before the carriages enter the property," Silas broke that suffocating silence that held them all by the throat, "Please take a deep breath," his tone mellowed further when he slightly leaned her way to address her.
"Right!" she whispered with a nod.
Her hand squeezed around his arm a little harder as her legs trembled more violently just to maintain her stance.
It wasn’t long before the cloppering of hooves traveled to her ears from afar.
It was more so thudding than clacking since it hadn’t rained in a good number of days and nights. The dirt was dry and as such, every step they took kicked up a storm of dust that ascended so high, it was the first and only thing Arabella was able to distinguish from the distance.
Eventually, the three carriages crossed the rear gates and pulled a dozen of feet before Arabella and Silas.
The first two cars were much bigger than the third which trailed at the very back.
Black and glossy, all embossing and garnishing on the vehicles had been done with a touch of silver.
The Eleazar crest rested upon the door to each of them, proudly on display for all eyes to behold.
"We usually receive the tributes in Lustrisian royal cars but those were so old and run to the ground," Silas spoke very calmly, his diamonds on the Lustrisian guards that stepped down from the carriages one after the other, "I sent these charets because I didn’t want the old one to break on the way here," he explained.
"You did the right thing," she murmured.
Her irises followed Aron who was the first to step forward, nearing the Lustrisian soldiers by the door to the first carriage.
Chained to each other they were. The tributes descended one by one in a single straight line. All were men of different backgrounds, physical conditions and ages with the only thing in common between the lot of them being the filthy and scruffy rags that had been forced upon their flesh.
Aside from the rattling of the metal chain around their ankles, the other thing that struck Arabella with the first blow of wind in their presence was the amalgamation of foul stenches that yielded an even worse odor; sweat that drenches their bodies to the point of baking the muck that stuck to their skin in.
With the youngest leading the herd, none of them dared raise their eyes above anybody’s knee level. None dared voice a whisper. Some shivered on their feet while others stood steady in their spots.
The second carriage revealed another batch of men in a, more or less, similar state to the first group.
The third one however, seemed to transport women. Naturally, there was more whimpering and sniveling emanating from their side than the men’s.
To prevent her knees from buckling, Arabella squeezed tight around Silas’ arm.
Seeing the tributes during the ceremony once they were bathed, fed, clothed and bejeweled was one thing, but seeing them fresh out of the Lustrisian penitentiary carried a whole new level of devastation.
As though a set of claws had clutched around her heart, refusing to let go, the searing pain that shot through her was like no other she’d ever experienced.
The young woman fought to keep from clasping her mouth, exposing the nausea that had claimed her digestive system right then and there.
Aron returned with a stack of papers in hand before giving them away to Silas whilst bowing before him, "Seventy-eight in total, my Lord. It seems there has been a last-minute change in the list," he declared almost at the top of his voice.
Perhaps were they supposed to welcome more tributes or perhaps less, Arabella couldn’t care less about that at the moment.
Her full attention was on the utterly lost looking young woman at the far edge of the line.
Eyes so wide, she feared they’d burst in their sockets, so full of tears it was a miracle she hadn’t yet caused a flood.
Shivering at every sound and motion that poor thing did.
The sight of her brought memories of the night Arabella had escaped the royal escort.
That night, every little hiss from the wind, every little crack or scratch sent her heart into a frenzy.
"Line up!" Aron’s bellowing wrenched a shudder out of her as well.
She who thought her presence would lessen their fear upon seeing her, a human, alive, healthy and well off under a vampire’s care...
As though struck on the feet, the tributes scrambled to execute Aron’s latest order, forming a straight, strict line.
No defiance from any aroused. It was clear every shred of it, down to the last lick had been squashed out of them long before that moment.