Chapter 3
Bring That Girl Here

The sunlight was harsh, but under the breeze-cooled shade of the trees it was pleasantly cool. Layla sat on a blanket, hugging her knees. Bill and the gardeners were busy digging up withered rose bushes and planting new ones that bloomed later in the season.

The garden behind the mansion looked as if it held every variety of rose in the world. Roses were the national flower of the Berck Empire, and also the blossoms most beloved by the two ladies of the Herhardt household.

Gunshots echoed from the forest, leaving Layla restless. She had paced the house nervously until Bill had suddenly offered his hand. When she took it in surprise, he had brought her here to the garden. Only when the gunfire faded into the distance did her heart finally settle.

Uncle Bill is working in the heat, and I’m just sitting here?

Layla glanced at him uneasily, then sighed and closed her eyes. He had warned her not to follow him around, saying he couldn’t stand children who disobeyed. So however uncomfortable she felt, she had no choice but to wait here quietly.

Resigned to that conclusion, Layla opened her eyes again—and flinched. A strange boy stood before her. Neatly dressed, he looked about her age.

“Hi.”

He smiled as their eyes met. His platinum-blond hair gleamed, his smile bright and pretty.

“Do you live here?”

He asked seriously, looking around.

“Yeah. With Uncle Bill.”

Layla narrowed her eyes slightly as she answered.

“Uncle Bill? You mean that scary gardener?”

“He’s not scary.”

“Really? He looked scary to me.”

Tilting his head, the boy sat down beside her as if it were nothing.

“Do you live here too?”

Layla asked, a little wary. The boy laughed and shook his head.

“No. I came with my father. He’s the family doctor, and today’s the Dowager’s checkup. Sometimes I come with him, since the Dowager says it’s fine.”

“I see.”

“How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“Same as me. But you’re tiny.”

He burst out laughing as he stared at her. Layla’s cheeks flushed in protest.

“You’re small too.”

“I’m the tallest in my class, I’ll have you know.”

He straightened his back indignantly. It wasn’t entirely a boast; he did look a little taller than most boys his age.

“Well… you’re still smaller than Uncle Bill.”

Layla muttered in a smaller voice. The boy blinked at her—then laughed again, loud and cheerful. He seemed like a boy who laughed easily.

“Who’s taller than that man? Even most grown-ups aren’t!”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Embarrassed, Layla plucked at some blades of grass outside the blanket. Green stains clung to her fingers. She wished he would go, but he showed no sign of leaving.

“Want this?”

She asked on impulse, glancing at the peach beside her. The boy nodded eagerly. He was as bold as he was cheerful.

Layla pulled out the pocketknife Bill had given her and sliced the peach. The boy snickered softly at the sight.

“That’s funny. A girl pulling a knife out of her bag?”

“Uncle Bill gave it to me. Don’t make fun of me.”

She wrinkled her nose and handed him half of the peach. Sweet fragrance drifted between them as they ate side by side.

“Why do you look so down? Did something happen?”

The boy asked gently once he had finished.

“The Duke and his friends keep hunting birds.”

Layla’s voice sank. The boy tilted his head, puzzled.

“So what?”

“They kill them for fun.”

“Isn’t that what hunting is?”

“You too?”

Layla lifted her earnest green eyes to his face. He didn’t look like he could even hold one of those big, terrifying rifles.

“Uh… no.”

He blinked, then shook his head hard.

“I wouldn’t. It’s cruel.”

He spoke with surprising conviction. Slowly, Layla’s lips curved into a smile.

“Want another peach?”

Her voice was lighter now. The boy nodded again without hesitation.

This time, she handed him a bigger piece. His cheeks had grown flushed, perhaps from the stuffy neatness of his clothes.

“Kyle! Kyle!”

A distant voice called. The boy leapt up.

“I have to go.”

“I see. Bye.”

“Kyle Etman.”

He suddenly extended his hand.

“My name. And yours?”

“Layla. Layla Llewellyn.”

Awkwardly, she shook his hand. Peach juice still dampened their small palms, but they shook solemnly.

“Bye, Layla. I’ll bring something tasty next time.”

He called out as he ran off.

Layla almost told him she might be leaving this place soon, but bit the words back. She was afraid that speaking them aloud might bring them true. Instead, she waved faintly.

When Kyle was gone, her world grew quiet again.

She waited for Bill under the rose-scented breeze. At some point she drifted into sleep, and only woke when his voice called her name. Blinking awake, she saw that the long summer day was already fading into evening.

She leapt up, slung her bag over her shoulder, and gathered the blanket. Her steps were lighter as she ran toward Bill.

“Uncle Bill, I met a boy earlier…”

She began, but froze when she saw the group approaching from the opposite direction. The Duke of Herhardt and his companions.

Matthias paused at the center of the rose garden. Bill Remmer bowed his head. Only then did Matthias notice the small figure hiding behind him.

“It’s been a while, Mr. Remmer.”

Matthias inclined his head slightly. His companions stopped a pace behind him.

“This girl will be staying in Arvis for the time being.”

Bill said awkwardly.

He tapped her back gently, and Layla stepped out hesitantly. Her bright golden hair caught Matthias’s eye—he remembered her now. The ridiculous little girl in the tree, whom he had nearly mistaken for a bird.

“I already received permission from the two ladies, but I thought I should tell you as well, Your Grace.”

Bill bowed again. Layla followed his lead.

Matthias lowered his gaze lazily. Their eyes met. She flinched, yet studied him intently—eyes narrowed, lips pressed tight. The same expression she’d worn when spying on him in the forest.

“You’re that one. The kid in the woods.”

His cousin Riette chuckled behind him. Blushing scarlet, Layla ducked back behind Bill’s broad frame. Just as she had in the hunting grounds, staring at him before darting behind a tree—only to return later, weeping, to bury the fallen birds.

“As you wish, Mr. Remmer.”

Matthias answered briefly with a polite smile. Whatever the gardener chose to keep in the woods was no concern of his.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Bill bowed once more. With a slight dip of his chin, Matthias moved on.

Only after he passed did Layla dare lift her head. His friends and relatives followed close behind. Though the heat had driven them to shed coats and roll up sleeves, the Duke of Herhardt wore his hunting attire in perfect form. Only the hat in his hand broke the image.

Layla stared after him, then stumbled back at the sight of servants carrying rifles and bloody game. The stench of iron filled her nose. She hunched her shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut.

Bill’s large, warm hand settled on her trembling shoulder. Clumsy but kind, he patted her gently.

Claudine propped her chin on her hand and sighed theatrically. The soft curls of her chestnut hair swayed with each breath. Countess Brandt shot her daughter a sharp look.

“You must act like a young lady, Claudine.”

Her low voice betrayed her impatience. Claudine was still a little young to be called that, but the setting demanded it. Oblivious to her mother’s feelings, the girl sighed again.

“It’s so lonely and boring.”

The ladies at the tea table turned their eyes toward her.

“Then go play with your brothers.”

Her flustered mother tried to smooth things over, but Claudine persisted.

“My brothers act like I don’t exist. They only talk in ways I can’t understand.”

Her pitiful expression made the other ladies laugh softly.

“True enough. It must be dull, with no friends your age.”

Elise von Herhardt stroked the white dog on her lap and nodded.

“See, Mother? Lady Herhardt understands.”

Claudine’s face lit up with a triumphant smile.

“Who’s that girl?”

She pointed toward the garden, where Layla trailed behind the gardener. The other ladies followed her finger.

“Can I play with her? She looks about my age.”

“I doubt it. She’s a foreign orphan, isn’t she? Not quite suitable as a companion.”

“I don’t mind. It’ll be better than playing with the dog.”

Her words, calm and decisive for her age, made Countess Brandt flush red to the ears. Elise von Herhardt, however, laughed in amusement and rang a bell.

“Bring that girl here.”

She instructed the maid who had come quietly at her call.

“The one the gardener is looking after.”

The maid fetched Layla into a strange new world—beneath a billowing white canopy, surrounded by ladies in gowns as bright as candy.

“She’s a rather cute child.”

One of the beauties remarked slowly.

“Well, Claudine? Do you like her?”

Her gaze moved to the brown-haired girl beside her. Claudine beamed and nodded.

“Thank you, Lady Herhardt.”

Layla could barely understand what they meant. Her head spun. She wanted to run back to Bill’s cabin, but no one seemed to care what she felt.

At a word from one of the ladies, the maid seized Layla’s hand again.

Dragged from hand to hand, Layla was washed in a splendid bath she had never seen before, then dressed in clothes so white and soft they felt unreal. A maid combed and braided her tangled hair, tugging so hard it hurt, but Layla clenched her lips shut. One wrong word could bring trouble for Uncle Bill.

“Miss Claudine is the daughter of Count Brandt. That means you must treat her with the utmost respect. Do you understand?”

The maid warned sternly as she led Layla up to the second floor.

Layla nodded quickly. The maid opened the parlor door. Claudine greeted her with a deliberately mature air.

“Hello. What’s your name? And your age?”

“My name is Layla Llewellyn, miss. I’m twelve.”

“Really? I thought you were younger. You’re so small.”

It was the last thing Layla wanted to hear, but she swallowed it down. For Bill’s sake. Repeating it in her mind like a spell, her patience stretched further.

Claudine didn’t bother introducing herself. She simply turned, and Layla followed stiffly.

Piano. Singing. Flower arranging.

She suggested them all, but Layla could do none.

Dice games. Word games. Chess.

It was the same. Layla had no idea how.

Claudine’s eyes flicked between the toys piled on the table and Layla’s blank face. A faint, disappointed smile touched her lips.

“Poor thing.”

Sighing, Claudine stood. Layla stared helplessly at the unfamiliar playthings, feeling like a fool.

“You don’t know anything, do you?”

She said, standing in front of Layla’s chair. Her voice was gentle, as if she were trying not to sound annoyed—but that only made it sting more.

Layla couldn’t think what to say. Fortunately, Claudine didn’t wait. She turned away.

At the door, she muttered under her breath.

“What a letdown. Not even better than a puppy.”

Then she was gone.

Layla was left alone in the glittering parlor.

She wanted to leave at once, but instead she stayed, just in case the young lady returned. Yet even as the afternoon sun turned golden, Claudine never came back.

Only when evening fell did the maid return.

“You can go now.”

Her voice was softer than before.

“Miss Claudine said you can keep the clothes. And this.”

She pressed a shining gold coin into Layla’s hand. When Layla froze, she tucked it firmly into her palm.

“Take it. Accepting what the nobles give you is part of proper manners. Do you understand?”