The Maid and The Usurper - Chapter 6
He wanted for her to appear before him, like the dreams and fantasies he’d had countless times, and to hold onto her, unlike those dreams where she had vanished like mist. He wanted her for real, warm flesh and blood, just like the Rhineland of his youth.
“I like you, Layla.”
He couldn’t remember the expression Layla had when he clumsily confessed in the abandoned gamekeeper’s hut on a snowy winter day. Did she smile awkwardly? Did her blue-tinged violet eyes widen? Although he couldn’t recall the expression on her face, he vividly remembered the feel and warmth of holding Layla’s hand for the first time.
“Idiot.”
The alcohol, going down on an empty stomach, tasted bitter. She was a girl who held onto every memory and moment but never let them go. He kept chasing after this heartless girl who never looked back at him.
“Commander.”
“F**k off. Daniel. Don’t be a nuisance.”
He lashed out at Daniel, who had appeared again before him.
“The Princess of Orléans is here.”
Leopold’s eyes glinted sharply, like an eagle spotting its prey.
“What?”
“The Princess of Orléans has come to see you.”
Her pale complexion looked sickly, her hair matted, and the hem of her clothes were disheveled.
The picture she presented made it hard to believe she was the same haughty princess he had seen earlier.
“She came secretly in an unmarked common carriage. It seemed urgent, so I brought her to the drawing room.”
“Bring her up here.”
“Excuse me?”
“Bring the princess to my room.”
Leopold’s blue eyes flashed sharply. Daniel flinched at the strange glint in his eyes.
—
Layla entered the room, her hair slightly tousled by the wind. Her cheeks were flushed red with excitement. Leopold’s hand reached out to touch her cheek. Her still cool temperature made it hard to gauge her state.
“It’s cold out. Is it okay to come dressed so lightly?”
“It’s fine, Count.”
When Layla, startled by his approaching hand, reflexively stepped back, Leopold grabbed her wrist and pulled her close.
“I’m not going to devour you, why are you so scared?”
He had wished she wouldn’t come, yet hoped she would. And now that she was here, it wasn’t so bad. He felt pathetic for still shamelessly pining over a mere maid, but he couldn’t help it.
“I’m not frightened…”
Layla opened her mouth to say something more, but then shut it.
“So, are you here to give me your answer?”
“Isn’t that why you summoned me?”
It was Leopold who had, after all, forced her to make a choice, throwing out ambiguous words that could be interpreted as either a threat or an offer. The decision was entirely Layla’s.
“You know better than anyone that your options are limited.”
There wasn’t a single person in Argen who was unaware of the ambitions of the Archduke of Baden, backed by the Edehardt royal family. The balance maintained by the seven great houses of Orléans, Bard, Zollern, Baden, Tennel, Palts, and Saxony had been disrupted as Baden House grew expansively. The moment the name Baden was attached to Edehardt, Baden made no secret of his ambition to seize Argen.
The weakest prince was crowned king, and his daughter was made queen. The second son became the son-in-law of Tennel and the sole consort of Tennel’s heir, simultaneously holding the position of the Chancellor of the Privy Council. This allowed them to gradually expand their influence. Their next target was none other than Orléans.
Baden had set its sights on Orléans as the consort for King Michael. Unlike the other seven great Houses, Orléans, being a branch of Esselbach, had marriages that could invoke the borders of Esselbach, making it difficult to attempt. Therefore, Bard and Zollern, who were at odds with Baden, resisted Baden by aligning with Orléans.
“Baden and Edehardt want to devour Orléans by using me, so regardless of whom I choose, Baden will continue to pressure and check Orléans.”
Thus, the choices for Orléans were limited: either to oppose Baden or to join hands with them. Layla clutched the hem of her skirt.
“Whether my false identity is exposed and I’m hanged or I rebel against Baden and am executed, the outcome is the same for me.”
If the end was to be the same tragedy, it made sense to choose a path that might showcase a bit of comedy.
“In that case, it’s worth taking a gamble. I must take your hand, Count. Whether your words were a threat or an offer, I’m unsure.”
Her words ended sharply. Leopold poured himself another drink.
