Chapter 16
16
Something That’s Nothing
As the sun began to set, the forest darkened rapidly.
Leila stared at the dead bird with unfocused eyes, while Mathias watched her. Several minutes of silence had flowed by, but he felt no impatience. Leila was right there before him, and she likely wouldn’t be able to flee for the time being.
“Wouldn’t it be better…”
At last, Leila raised her head. Her gaze upon him held a fury the encroaching darkness couldn’t fully conceal. It was an insolent, brazen look without equal, but far preferable to one that dodged away.
“Please tell me yourself. What wrong have I done to you, Your Grace?”
“Wrong?”
“Yes. Please tell me what I’ve done wrong to deserve such… such a horrific punishment.”
“I’ve never given you any punishment.”
Mathias replied with considerable seriousness.
“I’m simply doing my own work, and you’re doing yours, Leila.”
That was his honest sentiment, too.
“A wrong. Well.”
After a moment’s reflection, Mathias regarded Leila with a quiet gaze.
“Why do you like birds so much?”
He posed the same question as before, in a tone utterly unchanged.
Leila squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them, gazing at the darkening sky, then at the dead bird, and finally meeting Mathias’s eyes once more. Her shoulders trembled, but her gaze remained fierce. And Mathias still found it both amusing and faintly irritating.
“Because they’re always there beside me.”
Leila Llewellyn replied with deliberate clarity. It conveyed her anger, but carried little intimidation.
“From childhood, I’ve wandered so many places, but birds were always there, no matter where. Nearby, always. Even those that flew far away with the changing seasons would return if I waited. The birds came back.”
With each word she strung together, Leila’s voice grew calmer. Her soft enunciation made it feel all the more hushed.
“There was no season without birds. No place without them. The most beautiful and free creatures in this world were always by my side—and I loved that.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Meaningless facts to you, I’m sure, Your Grace.”
Bluster from a face on the verge of tears.
Mathias let out a low chuckle as he rose. Dinner hour was drawing near.
“You’re not going to hunt like this again, are you?”
Leila asked urgently of the man about to depart.
“If necessary.”
Mathias answered without a second thought. The despair welling in Leila’s eyes, the fear, the anger she still couldn’t relinquish—it all brought him considerable pleasure.
“Leila.”
He changed his mind mid-stride and turned to face her squarely.
“I want everything in my world to stay in its proper place. Not hiding pointlessly or running away, but right where it belongs.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Stay in your place.”
“What… what place do you mean? I truly don’t understand.”
“Think on it carefully.”
“Your Grace.”
“Who knows? Find that answer, and I might just hunt you kindly.”
Leaving the stunned Leila behind, Mathias turned away without a trace of lingering.
He didn’t expect anything particular from Leila Llewellyn. She simply needed to remain in her place. As the orphan living in his forest. As the curious schoolgirl. And with a little more time, as the teacher—always, invariably, in that rightful spot.
From horseback, Mathias turned to gaze at the shrubbery. Leila sat huddled small before the dead bird. Her cheek gleamed—she was crying, no doubt. Satisfaction flickered in Mathias’s eyes at the sight of those tears.
He had been born into a world ruled by perfect order, soon its master. Under that order, all was simple and clear. Faithfully fulfilling assigned roles and expectations was effortless, even a touch tedious. To his grandmother and mother, a proud heir. To the servants, a generous lord. On the battlefield, a splendid soldier. To the directors, a capable magnate.
Mathias had always been someone’s something, performing those roles willingly. Those around him were no different. Defined roles and attitudes, emotions refined within bounds, flowed in orderly exchange. Those were the feelings Mathias had seen, heard, and learned.
But that lowly orphan in my forest?
Mathias’s eyes narrowed upon Leila.
Nothing at all.
That simple conclusion drew a smile from him.
It was his first time possessing something that was nothing. The life of Duke Herhardt left no room for superfluous presences to intrude.
Holding something that was nothing—no need to make it anything—felt novel, but hardly unpleasant. No. The feelings that unremarkable girl showed beyond all bounds entertained him greatly. Like the instant his shot felled a bird mid-flight.
Above all, her tears. He liked Leila when she cried. She wept so prettily. He wanted to make her cry again—and again.
With a heart much lightened, Mathias departed the forest.
Back at the mansion, the usual routine unfolded. A boisterous dinner. Hollow, elaborate conversation. Cold champagne and laughter like sea foam.
As that brief summer night passed and morning returned, Mathias mused that a gentle hunt next time might not be amiss. Gazing out the window, there was Leila in the rose garden. Helping the gardener in her usual silent way.
See?
Mathias smiled, turning from the window.
Easy, isn’t it, Leila?
“Thank you, Leila.”
Claudine greeted her kindly. The friend seated beside lifted the corners of her mouth in a faint smile of gratitude.
“You’re welcome, miss.”
Leila bowed politely. Faint grass stains lingered on her clasped white fingertips from picking the flowers. A few thorn pricks from the roses had drawn beads of blood.
“I’ll take my leave now…”
“Could you pick some of those red roses as well? A bouquet should suffice.”
Claudine’s gentle request cut Leila off.
Leila turned to follow Claudine’s pointing finger. The central bed, ablaze with splendid red roses.
“Yes, miss.”
As ever, Leila obeyed without demur.
Claudine watched Leila’s retreating figure in silence for a long while as she gathered the basket and shears anew and walked away.
She had spotted Leila while strolling the gardens of Arbis with her visiting friend. Absent for some time, today Leila was diligently aiding the gardener.
Abandoning plans for tea, Claudine proposed flower arranging instead. Emilia accepted with delight, and soon tools for the two ladies were laid out beneath the pagoda wreathed in climbing roses.
And Leila.
Claudine had sent a maid to summon her as a matter of course. It had always been thus since childhood. When Claudine, fond of flower arranging, claimed this spot beneath the pagoda, fetching the needed roses fell to Leila Llewellyn.
Too lacking for playmate status, yet she ran errands capably. In moments of unbearable boredom, summoning the girl for a few words wasn’t so bad.
“That girl acts so polite, but it comes off as strangely impertinent.”
Emilia pouted, watching Leila go.
“Whether she knows her station too well or not at all.”
“Don’t say that, Emilia. Leila’s a pitiful child.”
Claudine frowned faintly. The rose stem Leila had brought earlier snapped cleanly between her scissor blades.
“Of course, I know Leila has that flaw, but let’s extend some tolerance anyway.”
Emilia beamed at Claudine’s addition.
“You’re far too lenient with the servants, in any case.”
“Those who faithfully perform their duties deserve respect.”
Claudine’s voice dipped lower, softer. The blue-tinged porcelain vase filled gradually with the blooms she trimmed.
Leila soon returned bearing a bouquet of red roses. Impeccably polite, without blemish, she placed it upon the table.
Claudine paused, gazing at her. Emilia’s judgment of Leila Llewellyn rang true. Even Claudine, who had watched the girl for years, agreed.
She sensed the reason, dimly.
Leila Llewellyn’s meek demeanor might spring from utter indifference. Though Claudine von Brandt—whom the finest noble ladies vied to befriend—personally deigned to include her, Leila betrayed no thrill, no delight. No sycophantic efforts or fawning airs.
She simply endured in silence.
Claudine found such apathy unfamiliar. That it came from that orphan Leila of all people stirred a twinge of disdain.
“You’ve done well, Leila.”
Claudine bestowed a bright smile.
Leila bowed deeply and withdrew; the waiting maid approached from a few paces off. This was the moment Claudine most anticipated. The orphan of princessly pride clasping a single gold coin—the instant true emotion flickered in Leila Llewellyn’s eyes.
Even after all these years, Leila faltered here. Her hand would tremble faintly upon the coin, like clutching a hot coal, and Claudine felt deeply satisfied. Today brought an extra gift: a party invitation, to bestow a lovely memory on the poor child.
“Is this for me?”
Leila’s eyes widened as she accepted the invitation alongside the gold coin from the maid. Her face registered profound fluster.
“Yes. I asked, and both madams approved.”
“But miss…”
“I want you to come, Leila.”
Claudine cut her off with a voice laced in laughter. As Leila paled, Claudine’s smile bloomed all the brighter.
“I trust you won’t refuse my invitation.”
With those fond, intimate words—as to a longtime friend—Claudine at last averted her gaze from Leila.
Before becoming mistress of Arbis, she must properly break that stiff child in.
Reaffirming her duty with calm resolve, Claudine set to trimming the red roses.
The rose arrangement Claudine crafted with skillful hands was perfectly beautiful.
