The Girl Who Dared to Think Bella Forrest (best classic literature txt) 📖

alert Silvan that he had guests, a slat on the upper side of the door peeled aside to reveal two large blue eyes, topped by thinning eyebrows and covered with wire-framed glasses. He peered at us for a second, and then shut the slat.

Grey and I exchanged looks, before the door slid open with a hiss and Silvan stepped out. He was older than I’d expected, fine wrinkles lining his mouth and forehead. His eyes were wary, the dark circles underneath giving him a vaguely rodent-like look. He grew rigid when he took in my uniform.

“Knight,” he said, offering a polite bow, shaved scalp gleaming in the bright light of the hall. He looked over, spotted Grey, and made a similar gesture. “Honored nine,” he said reverently.

That didn’t bode well, but then again, it could be an act. Maybe he was trying to ingratiate himself to us to start making a case against taking him to the Medica. It happened from time to time, but the Knights almost never chose to defer treatment to a later date. Besides, I wasn’t a Knight yet.

“I’m still a Squire, sir,” I said carefully, offering him a brief smile. “May we come in for a few minutes? There is something we want to discuss with you.”

Silvan nodded without even a moment of hesitation and stepped out of our way to allow us inside. I entered, and found that the interior was covered with papers and sketches of mechanical equipment. He closed the door behind us before pushing past and starting to sweep his papers away into a pile. I grabbed one that he missed, taking a look, and saw what appeared to be a valve.

I turned it back and forth, trying to make heads or tails of it, hoping to identify its purpose, or even what it was.

“Please,” he said, voice shaking as he shoved the disheveled stack of paper into a drawer on the other side of the room. “Make yourselves at home. What is mine is yours.”

I hesitated, his anxious manner making me feel a bout of anxiety as well. I smiled at him in a way I hoped would make the man relax some. I had to wonder whether he was anxious about us being here because he thought like Sarah had thought: that we were from the Medica, coming to take him away for treatment. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. His clothes were rumpled, and he tugged nervously at his sleeves as I assessed him. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Relax, Citizen Wash,” I told him. “We’re just here to talk. May I call you Silvan?”

His head bobbed, and he brought both hands to his temples and craned his neck. “I am honored to speak with ones such as yourselves,” he said, voice soft. “I am not worthy. My tainted name should not come from the lips of someone like you.”

He muttered something about a beverage and then moved off to the kitchen, leaving the two of us standing in his living room, looking around.

“I don’t like this,” Grey muttered.

“Me neither, but it could be that he’s just terrified we’re going to take him away to the Medica. Or, he’s trying to act like a ‘model’ citizen of the Tower, but is petrified of being discovered to be something other than that. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt, okay?”

“Okay... Just... be careful with this one,” he said.

“I will,” I replied, just as Silvan returned with a tray of teacups, before moving back into the kitchen area, his hands flying to and fro. A kettle appeared, and was put on.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, looking back at us with hopeful eyes. “I have chamomile and... oh... more chamomile.”

His expression fell in disappointment at not having a variety of teas to offer, and I quickly spoke up. “Chamomile is my favorite,” I told him. “I would love to have some.”

Silvan’s face brightened, and he nodded eagerly, drawing out a bag of tea before looking at Grey. “And you?”

“Chamomile is fine,” Grey said apprehensively. I gave him another look, mouthing the word relax to him. His nerves were going to make Silvan jumpier, which was literally the opposite of what I had asked him.

Silvan busied himself for a moment, then froze, staring at his hands. I heard him mutter a curse as he spun back to face us.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing almost frantically to the pile of cushions on the floor. “I’m so sorry, I should have offered that first. Your comfort is paramount while you are in my unworthy home.”

“Silvan, there is nothing about your home that is unworthy,” I said as Grey and I both sat, finding a position around a small floor table that sat in the middle. It might have been messy with papers when we had first walked in, but with them gone, the room was surprisingly tidy and neat. I doubted that the Praetor’s own home was half as clean as this place.

Silvan’s face darkened as he regarded his home, but then he shook his head, hurried forward, and seated himself on the cushions on the other side of the small table.

“So,” he said. “How can I help you? Are you here to take me to the Medica?”

I looked at Grey, noting the tremor in Silvan’s voice, and the look Grey gave me as he replied to Silvan’s question was tentative. Cautious.

“Not exactly, but we do want to talk to you about your number.”

Silvan looked up, a flash of anger flickering through his eyes. “I figured,” he said. “It fell to a three just recently. I already have my Medica appointment for tomorrow, so don’t worry.”

There was a bitterness there, and that helped me relax some. What we were seeing was an act, I was sure of it. It was all a matter of making him comfortable, and he’d reveal himself.

“You don’t seem... very eager to engage in treatment,” I said, and Silvan looked