Chapter 4
After All Those Days

Layla left the mansion just as the western sky began to turn rosy. Passing through the rear gate that led to the rose garden, she was greeted by a cool breeze.

Her hand tightened around the gold coin she held as she walked with determination. But her resolve didn’t last long. Beneath a pergola heavy with climbing roses stood Claudine. Surrounded by cousins, chatting merrily, Claudine met Layla’s eyes and offered that same faint smile from earlier.

“Goodbye, Layla.”

Claudine spoke first. The young men with her also turned to glance at the girl. Thankfully, the Duke of Herhardt was nowhere to be seen.

Layla bowed her head in reply. It wasn’t poor manners, at least—Claudine said nothing more.

Only once she had passed out of their sight did Layla break into a run. She longed desperately to escape that strange, alien world and return to Uncle Bill’s cabin. But misfortune struck at the very last step.

At the border where the garden met the forest path, Layla stumbled and fell. The gold coin rolled away across the paving stones, finally coming to a stop at the tip of a man’s polished shoe.

Squinting, Layla watched it spin. The man calmly pressed it down with the toe of his shoe.

Her gaze traveled upward—from gleaming leather, to long legs, to the face of the man looking down at her.

The Duke of Herhardt.

Startled, Layla sprang to her feet. Her white dress was soiled with dirt and streaked with blood from her scraped knee. He watched her quietly, expression unreadable, lips faintly tilted at one corner.

Layla pressed her lips together, brushing dust from her skirt. In the meantime, the Duke stepped back with unhurried grace. At his feet, the coin gleamed with the reflection of sunset.

She wanted nothing more than to leave it behind. But still, Layla stooped before him to pick it up. As she did, Claudine’s words stabbed her memory: Not even better than a puppy.

Clutching the coin tightly, Layla bowed to the Duke. She never once lifted her head. She bent as low as she could, holding her breath. Though her body had stung with pain moments ago, she felt nothing now. A strange thing.

Turning away from him, Layla began running again. Her knee throbbed, and she couldn’t run as fast as before, but she didn’t stop. Something welled up inside her throat, sloshing as if it would spill.

Only when she reached the cabin and saw light glowing through the cracks did she finally understand what it was.

Sorrow.

“I’ll give this to you, Uncle Bill.”

Layla set the gold coin on the table with a solemn air. Bill’s heavy brows twitched slowly.

“And what’s this?”

“A gold coin.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Miss Claudine gave it to me.”

“Claudine? Ah, the young count’s daughter.”

Bill nodded at last, understanding.

Since returning from the mansion, Layla had spent two whole days subdued. She hadn’t chattered needlessly, hadn’t roamed the woods or garden. To his surprise, Bill realized he had grown used to her small presence in his daily life.

With her silence, the whole world felt quiet. And he didn’t like that quiet one bit.

“So why are you handing me the money?”

Bill leaned forward over the table. Layla sat straight, her eyes fixed on his.

“Because it’s a lot. A big sum, right?”

“It is.”

“So if it’s such a big sum, throwing it away—even if it made me sad—wouldn’t be right. I thought about it a lot. That felt wrong. But if I give it to you, then I’ll at least pay back a little of what I owe. That’s why it should be yours.”

“Goddamn bastards.”

Bill muttered under his breath. Layla flinched, but he didn’t care.

From the moment she’d returned in that state, he’d known she must have been hurt somehow. Nobles were all the same. He’d kept quiet, afraid of making her cry, but now his anger boiled over.

“Layla.”

At the sound of her name, her too-mature expression softened back into that of a child.

“That’s money you earned. It’s yours.”

“Earned… money?”

“Yes. You worked for it. Entertaining a spoiled noble with nothing better to do—that’s a shitty job, but you did it. You earned it, so you take it. That’s the right thing.”

Layla frowned faintly, trying to grasp his meaning. Watching her think so hard, Bill downed his beer.

“Is that true?”

She tapped the coin with a finger, head tilting.

“It’s true.”

Wiping his beard with his sleeve, Bill answered heartily.

Money I earned.

As she repeated the words to herself, her face brightened.

“Congratulations on becoming an adult, Layla.”

Bill dropped a generous slice of meat onto her plate.

“An adult? Me?”

“Once you can earn your own keep, you’re an adult. And you did it.”

“But it was just once. Just one coin.”

“There are plenty of people who live their whole lives without even managing that once. You’ve made a fine start. With a start like this, you’ll make a fine adult.”

He piled bread and roasted vegetables onto her plate too.

“Uncle Bill, it’s too much.”

Her eyes went wide.

“You’ve pecked like a bird for days. Eat properly now.”

“But…”

“You know me. I like kids who eat like cows.”

Layla gasped, then burst into a clear laugh.

“If I eat well, do you think I’ll grow?”

“Of course. What, someone teased you for being small?”

“Not teased, exactly… but I must look too much like a little kid. It bothers me.”

Because you are a little kid, Bill nearly said. But he held his tongue.

She dug into the meat with determination. Watching her, he realized she had grown a lot these past months. No longer stick-thin, she was beginning to look almost pretty. With such a delicate frame, she’d never grow large, but there was no doubt she would become a beauty.

The thought unsettled him.

For a poor girl, beauty was more a curse than a blessing. Left to wander, she would be easy prey. She needed to be sent somewhere safe. But could he trust an orphanage? More likely it would ruin her.

Damn this world. Damn those who dumped her on him.

Bill drained his beer, muttering curses. His life had once been simple: flowers in bloom, fruit ripening, that was enough. How had it come to this—worrying about a child?

“Uncle Bill… if this money’s mine, then it wouldn’t be shameful to spend it, right?”

Layla asked after chewing carefully.

“Of course not. Something you want?”

“My notebook’s full. I want to buy a new one.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you think I could buy colored pencils too?”

“As many as you like.”

“And you, Uncle Bill? Don’t you need something?”

“Why? You planning to buy me something too?”

“Yes.”

“What if I ask for something ridiculously expensive?”

“Then I’ll save up more and buy it.”

Her expression turned earnest. When she grew serious, her green eyes deepened. At such moments, she looked clever—and heartbreakingly sweet.

Bill laughed loudly, refilling his mug, pouring Layla a glass of apple juice.

She lifted it high and clinked it against his. Beaming, she drained it in one gulp.

One day, this girl’ll turn into a real drunk, he thought darkly, shaking his head.

It’s only for now.

He told himself that as he finished his beer.

Days passed. Long days.

And all through them, Bill kept thinking.

Why he couldn’t raise her. Where he could send her. What to do with Layla—the lovely burden that had suddenly entered his life.

And in those thoughts, the girl grew.

The clothes he’d bought grew small, her skin soft and pale. The storage room he’d lent became a young lady’s room, filled with gentle air. Once she had darted down the path like a little bird; now she walked toward him, graceful as if skimming over water.

Sitting beneath the porch, Bill stared in astonishment. Layla waved, basket of wild strawberries in hand.

“Uncle Bill! You’re back early today.”

She skipped to him like she was dancing, golden braid swaying beneath the brim of her straw hat. Her flushed cheeks bloomed like the roses he tended.

“Off to the forest again?”

“Yes! Look at this haul.”

She proudly held up her basket.

“I’m going back tomorrow too. I’ll make sooo much jam.”

“Planning to go into the jam business?”

“That wouldn’t be so bad.”

Smiling, she sat beside him. And of course, there were two chairs. In fact, everything in the cabin had become, somehow, for two. Though Bill’s own thoughts were far from settled.

She dug into the basket and handed him a wild peach. Bill split it easily, giving her half.

Side by side, they ate, watching the forest. Leaves rustled in the breeze, birds sang in the distance.

“Summer again already,” Bill murmured without thinking.

Layla smiled quietly, removing her hat and stretching lazily. Bill chuckled when he spotted the old satchel by her knees—the one he’d given her that first year.

“You plan to use that thing until it falls apart?”

“It’s comfortable. And still good.”

She laughed, shaking it. Inside, he knew, were the same clattering things: tin pencil case, pocketknife, worn notebook, feathers and petals. In some ways, she hadn’t changed at all.

It was an ordinary evening.

Layla took in the laundry, Bill split wood. She prepared supper while he fed the chickens and goats. By the time they sat down together, the sun had set.

“Kyle’s coming tomorrow. We’ll study and then have dinner here. That’s okay, right?”

She asked as she set down a steaming plate.

“Why does that brat keep eating my food when he’s got a rich doctor for a father?”

“You like him, Uncle Bill. Don’t pretend.”

“Bah.”

Even as he grumbled, she smiled and poured him half a glass of beer.

“What’s this half measure?”

“You need to cut back. For your health.”

“That Etman boy told you that?”

“Uncle Bill!”

“Useless brat,” he muttered, but didn’t push it further.

They shared a cozy dinner. Later, Layla tidied up, bathed, then settled at her desk, lamp glowing. Exams were near; the summer’s happiness seemed to rest on the results.

Through the night breeze came the cries of birds. Her pencil scratched across paper.

Eventually her eyes ached, her head throbbed. She set the pencil down. Her poor eyesight had worsened. Since childhood, she’d always squinted to see clearly, but now it was harder.

She blew out the lamp and lay down. Soon, she thought, she would have enough saved for glasses.

Twenty jars of jam… no, thirty.

It wasn’t far off.

She could ask Uncle Bill—but that made it harder still. He had given her too much already, while she had given nothing back.

When he declared he would send her to school, most people had sneered. Why waste education on an orphan? Why not let her grow up as a servant? But Bill had been firm. He always said the same thing: Layla, you’ll grow into a fine adult.

Her headache eased with her eyes closed. She tried to sleep, but her mind only grew sharper. As always on such nights, thoughts wandered.

The returning birds. Summer plans. The mystery novel in the paper, and its culprit.

And the Duke of Herhardt.

At his name, Layla’s eyes opened. She gazed into the darkness: swaying branches, night sky, moon and stars.

Fixing her eyes on the pale blur of light, she held her breath.

The Duke had graduated from university, gone on to the Royal Military Academy as tradition demanded, and been commissioned as an army officer. He had served on foreign fronts, away from the estate all last year. For Layla, and for the birds in the forest, it had been a season of peace.

But this summer, he would return.

The master of Arvis.

The Duke of Herhardt.