Post by Deleted on Jul 31, 2016 20:35:10 GMT -5
Now that they were in Vanderhall and she saw that Everett was alive, well and unharmed, Emeline had far too much time on her hands to think about the truth that she and her siblings brought with them. They hadn't told anyone outside of the family yet, but it was only a matter of time before the entire Kingdom knew that Tysen Price was not only missing, but he was as good as dead. They'd searched every square mile of Heimberg and found neither hide nor hair of the Count. It was as if he'd simply been on the earth one day, gone as if he'd never existed the next. No demands for ransom, no taunting letters with proof that he was held captive arrived at the family home.
In a place like Vasile, that meant only one thing: Tysen Price was most assuredly dead.
What that meant for the Price family, Emma had no idea. Everett and Klaus were probably talking about it even now, trying to cobble together a plan for the foreseeable future. Tysen had a son, but Erwin was - if they were honest - not prepared to rise to the occasion of his inheritance. The title would fall either to Klaus or to Everett now, she felt sure. That didn't really trouble Emeline, or keep her awake at night, not at all. Either of her brothers would make highly capable counts, she knew.
What bothered her was wondering if the unexpected tragedy - as it would be seen - of Tysen's death was somehow her fault. Honesty compelled her to admit she'd wished for Tysen's demise on more than one occasion. She'd hated her oldest brother with a passion that defied definition, prayed for his death frequently, and hoped against hope that each time Tysen rode out, it would be the last time, that he would never return.
Now her wish had come true, and left her with the strangest feeling of guilt. Not out of misplaced love for Tysen, or out of any real concern for his person, but what it would do to the rest of the family. Sighing, she pulled on her fur-lined cloak and went out to the darkened courtyard, wanting the cold air and space to think while snow flurries whirled through the air. Thinking she was alone, Emeline eased onto a bench, watching the torches smoke and flicker as the flurries teased at the flames.
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Leopold Connell