Chapter 12

Arabella’s POV

"What’s Syria’s condition in her room now?" I asked the maid quietly, trying to stay calm and keep my voice steady.

"She's all right, Madam," answered the maid gently, not meeting my eyes. "But she's always shut up in her room. She hardly comes out. And Sir Steven only requests her when he wants to see her."

I balled my fists tightly, my nails digging painfully into my palm as anger surged through me, uncontrollable.

"Take me to her," I commanded icily.

The maid faltered. "O-Okay, Madam."

We proceeded in silence towards Syria's room. I kept my posture straight and composed.

When I arrived at her door, I knocked a few times. "Syria? Are you in here?"

There was silence.

I knocked again, harder this time. Still, nothing. She didn't open the door. She didn't even say a word.

My temper snapped. I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

There she was, sitting in the corner of the room, her hair messily falling around her face as she focused on something in her hands.