The Maid and The Usurper - Chapter 47
“There’s no need for you to feel so guilty. It’s common for people to be unable to do one or two things.”
With his clumsy attempt at comfort, Layla buried her face in her knees like a dejected rabbit.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of help, Count. I feel like I’m the reason we’re trapped in this snowy mountain.”
It was a reflection of her inadequacy wrapped in polished words. She had nothing, and the bravado she had built up was all she could rely on. Leopold hesitated for a moment before gently placing his hand on Layla’s head.
“That’s enough. I was the one who asked you to come. Just being here is enough. You didn’t receive any training to wander around here like I did.”
“Do you really… intend to become a knight?”
“Like it or not, I have to. Nothing’s more suitable to get rid of troublesome bastards than war.”
The battlefield was where you could kill a mouse or a bird and not be questioned. People died every day, and a bastard among the many deaths made no difference. War clouds were looming over the continent. No one knew how long the fragile peace would last. Layla wrapped her arms around herself. Leopold glanced at her.
“Wait here a moment, Layla. This was a gamekeeper’s cabin, so there might be something useful for surviving the winter.”
Though the cabin was old and unused, Leopold found a thick blanket amidst the dust. Layla squatted by the fireplace and positioned the firewood. She struck the flint several times, and the wood caught fire.
“You know how to use a flint?”
“I know how to use it. It’s just that I’m not good at it. Even in La Ellosa, I was criticized a lot by Benedict because I wasn’t very good at it.”
The impatient Benedict would often smack her on the head if she took too long, which made her develop a strong dislike for flints.
“The more I hear about Benedict, the more despicable he seems.”
“That’s right. He is a despicable person. Truly someone you can’t associate with.”
Among the countless scoundrels in La Ellosa, Benedict was actually one of the more bearable ones. At times, when she encountered even more ruthless individuals, she found herself thinking she was lucky to have Benedict. But the bitter feeling that followed was something difficult to put into words.
“I’m not defending him, but there was one time I was really grateful to Benedict.”
Leopold pulled Layla’s arm. He sat closely beside her and draped a blanket over her shoulders. Layla grasped one corner of the blanket with her hand.
“Snuggle up for a bit. It’s winter, and we need to rely on each other’s body heat.”
“My body is always cold. I might be fine, but you will be cold, Count.”
For some odd reason, her body had been cold since childhood. In summer it was fine, but in winter, her body temperature was no help. She tried to move away, but Leopold moved in closer, firmly wrapping the blanket around her and pulling her into his embrace.
“It’s fine. I’d rather you stay warm,” he insisted.
“But you must be cold…”
Layla said in a whispering voice. Leopold ignored her words.
“I’m not cold, just stay close.”
He desperately hoped she wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up his cheeks, and the redness in his face would be mistaken for the glow from the crackling fire.
“So, you mentioned there was a time you were thankful to that scoundrel?”
Leopold steered the conversation away from the awkwardness that hung in the air. Layla had said Benedict was a child-abusing scoundrel and she had never spoken fondly of Benedict before.
“Benedict was at least someone who had a minimum line of decency.”
