Forbidden

~Chapter Twenty-Eight~

A/N: So, here I am! FINALLY updating! You are amazing, you patient people, you! :-) I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter! I'd love to know what you're thinking!

This chapter is dedicated to AnitaMisra. Yes, I've dedicated a chapter to her before, but I think she deserves two. Anita is so sweet and kind, and amazingly talented. "Rachel's Story" is one of my favorite novels on here; one of my two all-time favorite historical fiction stories, too. :-) Her poetry is enchanting and nostalgic, as well, beautifully written and they flow flawlessly from one stanza to the next, line to line. But there's an even bigger reason this is dedicated to Anita: Because she has been the only person to consistently tell me what she thinks of this story, giving me constructive criticism and praise. I love her to death, and I can't wait until her PC is fixed so she can get back on! :-)

Don't take that all as offensive to YOU, though. I LOVE YOU ALL!!!! I wouldn't be here without you!

ENJOY! The next chapter should be up--hopefully--today! :-)

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~Chapter Twenty-Eight~       

Arabella felt her stomach churning as she mounted the last few steps, River by her side. Butterflies attacked her insides, though not entirely from River’s proximity. Unwelcome anxiety pushed its way into the picture, the painful throbbing of her ankle adding to her discomfort. This visit was proving to be nothing like she’d dreamed.

            She had overheard Layla’s thoughts in the kitchen, pushing her to leave. The little girl’s endless rambling was a fantastic excuse to become annoyed and disappear —Arabella admired her intelligence—but Erin Folsom would never be irritated by a young girl. So, instead, she had had to search her memory for a viable, human excuse. The first thing that had to come to mind was the bathroom: wasn’t that the typical cover story mortals used in uncomfortable situations? She had nearly rolled her eyes when she thought of it, feeling massively uncreative. But Layla had been barraging her mind with the insistence that she leave. At the time, Arabella had had no idea what the child was planning to do, but she trusted her completely. She had obediently followed her instructions.

            That wasn’t to say Arabella hadn’t stuck around after she had left the room, though. She had carefully shrouded herself from view, her Lining the only indication of her existence. Lingering just around the corner from the kitchen, meticulously hidden from view of the Elliots’ observant eyes, she had eavesdropped on the entire conversation, though Layla had known where she was the whole time. Her ankle had been thrumming the entirety of the siblings’ conversation, nearly distracting her from the argument. Tears had stung her eyes as she focused on the dialogue, even more so when Layla brought up that morning. The re-breaking of her fragile mortal heart had hurt more than anything Griffin could conjure in his malevolence. It had been a miracle that she had pulled herself together before entering the kitchen again. Erin Folsom seemed even harder to play now that she had overheard River and Layla’s miniature argument.

            The same pain assaulted her now. Arabella felt as if the pieces of her broken heart were tangible, as if it were really ripped down the middle from the reminder; her ankle pained her greatly, the bone feeling broken yet again; her stomach churned from the combination of pain and anxiety of the upcoming few hours. Tutoring River in German was no longer going to be the cake walk she had anticipated. Now, with his insulting injury to her that morning, his impending tense apology, and his role in the bigger picture, Arabella would have a difficult time focusing, stepping into a role that she would rather not play. Erin was a part of her in some way, yes, but what she wouldn’t give to be able to fully be Arabella…especially around River. She longed to reveal herself to him, confess everything. Maybe then he would help them.