The Maid and The Usurper - Chapter 63
“Do you remember me?”
Grotesquely torn lips exposed bare flesh drenched in blood. A face crushed against the rocks, gripped Layla’s arm tightly. These memories still haunted her relentlessly. Layla desperately shook off the hand and ran without looking back.
It was the same mountain path from that time, the branches that clawed at her calves. The night was pitch-black, devoid of any moonlight. Blood dripped from the hem of her skirt.
“Ahhh!”
A hand shot out from the ground, grabbing her ankle. She fell forward, scraping her skin painfully against the earth. From the darkness that obscured her vision, only a red glow shone through.
“Do you remember me?”
The voice was like nails scraping across a metal plate. Blood poured down like rain from the top of the torn head before her, staining the silvery hair a grayish hue. The pale, lifeless face before her was one she recognized. It was the woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to her.
“You stole my name, you stole my family, and now you’re living well?”
The sludge, mixed with congealed blood, engulfed Layla’s body. Hands reached out from the mire.
* * *
“Layla!”
“Ahh!”
Cold sweat ran down her body. Layla gasped as she sat up abruptly, her disheveled silver hair falling over her face. She buried her face in her hands.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
A firm hand gripped her shoulder. Leopold’s hand brushed over her sweat-soaked body. Layla lifted her face from her hands and saw Leopold standing before her.
“Count?”
Worry hovered on the tip of his tongue, but Leopold swallowed it down hard.
“Did you have a nightmare? Why are you being so noisy this early in the morning?”
His cold words pierced her ears, and all the memories she had cast aside surged back like waves. Leopold’s demeanor now was far more intimidating and oppressive than before.
“It’s nothing. I’ll head back now.”
“It’s still early and the sun hasn’t even risen yet. You can sleep in a little longer.”
“I’m fine. I have to be back in Orléans before it gets late…”
The moment she set her feet on the floor, her body swayed. Leopold caught her arm and hauled her up. Layla’s face flushed red.
“Do you think you can make it back alone, looking like this?”
There was a hint of mockery in his voice. Leopold laid her back on the bed.
“To be honest, I think you’d be in for a nasty surprise if you tried to hitch a ride on a wagon in this condition.”
Leopold sat on the edge of the bed. He wiped the cold sweat from Layla’s forehead with his sleeve. Her small face hadn’t changed one bit. No matter how much he tried, he could never be cold towards her. He forced his expression into a scowl, squinted his eyes, and swallowed the countless words that came to mind. He wanted to ask about her nightmare, but instead held back.
“Wait, I’ll take you back myself.”
As Leopold stood up, Layla gently tugged at the hem of his clothes. He turned to look at her.
“I’ll head back now. I know a trustworthy coachman.”
“Even if you trust him, I don’t.”
She still had that foolish pride, refusing help even when she clearly needed it. She wouldn’t ask for assistance, not even to save her life.
“Let’s have breakfast together. We have a lot to talk about.”
Leopold pulled the service cord. Despite the early hour, a maid appeared promptly. She showed no surprise at seeing Layla in her master’s chambers.
“I plan to have breakfast a bit earlier than usual today. And as we have a guest, prepare enough for two.”
“Of course, my lord. Is there anything else you require?”
“Bring a wet cloth as well. Someone here needs it.”
His words were vague but unmistakable in their meaning. Layla hurriedly adjusted her disheveled appearance. She didn’t look very presentable at the moment. Leopold glanced at Layla before walking closer to the maid. He leaned down and whispered softly to her.
“As you wish, my lord.”
The maid, who seemed discrete, quickly bowed her head and withdrew.
“You don’t have to look after me like this, Count.”
“I’m not looking out for you, Layla. I’m acting in my own self-interest, just as you advised.”
He had to say it, even if it was only in words. Otherwise, it was clear he would be swept away like he had been in his youth.
“You’ve changed a lot.”
