The Burden of Freedom

Chapter 9

That day, the contestants get a break, time off to rest after the stress of the day before. I am told they are allowed to do whatever they want, meaning that most of them will try to find me or my father to attempt to win some sort of favor from us.

At first, I plan on laying in my bed all day, resolving to stare at the spiderwebs in the corners and the cracks on my ceiling. But I can't ignore the curiosity any longer, can't push down the voice in my head that's telling me to get up, to get moving, to take action into my own hands.

I slip out of my room, unsure of where my feet are taking me but walking anyways.

The hallway is empty except for a single messenger boy, who scurries down the corridor away from me. I go down the stairs and into the wide corridor beyond. Each time I pass by a window, warm yellow sun floods onto my skin, kissing my skin and pressing itself into my eyes.

I linger at one of the windows, marveling in the warmth for a minute. It's then that I hear it.

The sound of soft, breathy music floats through the air. It's light and gentle, like a warm summer wind brushing against my face. I walk up to the nearby door as if drawn by the sound, pausing, unable to put my hand on the doorknob, unable to take another step forwards.

It has been a long time since I have heard the sound of the piano being played.

The music grows a little louder, more frantic, filled with pain and remorse. My heart thuds, blood racing along to the acceleration of the beat. My courage grows along with the crescendo of the song, and I push the door open.

The castle's music room is relatively small, the thick red carpet muffling the sound of my footsteps. All around, various instruments are hung on the walls, resting on the tables and leaning against the corners. An old flute gathers dust next to the polished wood of a violin.

One wall has two large windows, facing out into the courtyard and allowing warm sunlight to spill across the floor, to illuminate the single grand piano resting in the center of the room.

At the piano, a man sits, eyes closed, face upturned.

It is Silas.

I stand at the doorway, unable to bring myself to move. The music has captured my heart like a spiderweb capturing a bug. I watch the man before me spinning the web, fingers dancing across the keys like lightning strikes.

The music is over without me realizing it, leaving a hollow ache in my chest.

"Did you like it?"

His voice startles me out of my stupor. "Yes. Where did you learn?"

Silas gives a little bow of his head at my compliment, still seated at the piano bench. He presses one of the keys, letting the single clear note echo like ice.

"My mother taught me when I was younger," he says. "Though we didn't have an instrument as nice as this."

He looks at the piano as if it were a woman, eyes twinkling, a bright smile spreading across his face.

"Do you know how to play?" he asks, waving me over.

I sit down on the bench next to him and he takes my hand, moving my fingers to rest over the keys. I press one, the low, somber note resonating underneath the sound of the note that had already been played.

If magic were real, music would be it. I am sure.

"You're really quite good at this," I tell him.

"Oh, you're too kind," Silas responds.

"You're too modest," I shoot back with a smile.

I press my finger against another key, the high pitch ringing like a bell, biting at my ears. I can practically feel the vibrations in my fingertips.

"What brings you here, my lady?" Silas asks, gently taking my hand off the keyboard. He doesn't let it go, thumb tracing its way over my knuckles.

"Curiosity."

Silas lets my hand drop, leaning back to where the sun from the window painted his face with gold light.

I shift, the silence of the room feeling unnatural after the beautiful melodies of moments before.

"You knew Colin before this, right?" I ask, and I instantly regret saying anything at all. His face screws up a little, the soft joy turning into something close to disgust.

"Unfortunately," Silas responds. "I did know him."

"He doesn't seem that bad."

Silas started laughing until he realized I am serious. "I didn't think you liked him that much."

"Not at first," I respond. "But I don't know now."

Silas raises his eyebrow, smirking.

"What is wrong with him? Why does he act the way he does?" I ask.

"You mean besides the massive stick shoved up his..."

"No! That's not what I mean," I say, smiling despite the fact that I don't find it very funny. "He seems different underneath all of that anger."

The smile drops off his face. "I don't think you should try to get close to him, Princess. He's dangerous."

"Why?" I ask.

"Well, I don't wish to tarnish your opinion of him, My Lady," Silas responds. "However, I think it's best that you know what he did so you can make the choice of whether you should associate with him."

I lean back a little so I can see him a little better, so I can read his expression as he speaks. Right now, he is sitting with one elbow resting on the piano lid, his blonde hair tucked behind his ears, his deep brown eyes looking off just past my shoulder.

"Colin's entire family was killed," Silas began.

I swallow, my mother's face flashing through my memory. "What happened?" I ask, my mouth feeling as dry as parchment.

"I wish I could tell you something different," Silas says, picking at the cuffs on his jacket. "Colin had a dispute with his father over inheritance, over power. His father wanted to give the inheritance to his brother, but Colin felt entitled to it. So he killed them."

I don't know what to think at first. Would someone really do that for power, really kill of their own family to gain more control?

"Did you see him do it?" I ask. "Did you actually see him murder his entire family?"

Silas shakes his head. "No, but a servant found them all, one morning. Poisoned."

"I can't believe that," I say.

I may not like Colin very much, but I wouldn't have pegged him as one to kill his own family. Part of me wants to believe that Colin is an evil person, wants to go back to hating him like I did before.

However, I remember the promise I made to myself to give him and the other contestants a chance. Until I have solid evidence to back up these claims, I can not believe them to be true.

Silas obviously senses my hesitation, his voice growing a little more warm.

"Sorry. I know it's hard to hear," Silas says. "He had been a family friend for a long time, so learning what he did was hard for me too."

I need some air. I need some space to think.

I stand up from the piano, giving Silas a little curtsy. "I'm really sorry," I say to him. "I have to go."

Silas nods, and, to my relief, doesn't look angry. His eyes are calculating.

"Thank you for telling me," I say to him.

As I walk out the door and down the hall, I hear the sound of the piano starting to play again, a somber melody that echoes in my ears.