Velvet looked warm at first glance, but when you wore it you felt cold. It was an expensive, showy fabric with no real warmth. The cold wind seeped through it and Layla must have felt it in her bones. Some maids wore extra layers from home under their maid’s uniform, but Layla probably didn’t have that option.

“And you’re cutting up the feed with your hands?”

Malyn already knew that the stableman occasionally had Layla cut up feed for the horses. Ten horses – no, eleven, including Paradi – consumed an enormous amount of feed. In the cold, bluish light of dawn, Layla sometimes chopped the feed. Malyn knew that when Layla cut the hay with a sharp knife, she almost cut her nails. She had once noticed a horizontal scratch on the nail of Layla’s left index finger.

This princess did jobs that even a maid didn’t have to do.

Pretending to be a maid.

“Well, I’m the one who handles the food that goes into Paradi’s mouth…”

“Ah.”

Malyn scoffed.

“So you still think the horse is yours?”

Layla hesitated. Malyn added.

“Or maybe you just haven’t been pushed hard enough to lose that illusion.”

“……”

“Have you ever cooked feed?”

Layla’s blue eyes turned toward Malyn. Those eyes again. Malyn disliked Layla’s calm gaze—those deep eyes that hid her thoughts. She spoke without thinking.

“You wake up at dawn, take a dull knife to chop the feed, and throw it all into a pot this big to boil. You crouch by the pot, waiting for the feed to soften, but you start dozing off—only to fall forward and singe your bangs on the stove. If it’s just your hair, you’re lucky. But if you end up with burns on your face, that miserable life you’ve been struggling to hold onto could end right there. Yet, even knowing this, you still doze off because you’re simply that exhausted.”

“……”

“You haven’t reached that point yet, so I guess you still have the energy to worry about a horse.”

Layla spoke quietly.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“If that were the case, do you think I’d have thrown a mere jar of oil at you?”

Malyn propped her chin on her hand. She had already shown this princess plenty of her flaws, but she still wanted to appear as if she was in control. Raising an eyebrow, she continued.

“That horse wouldn’t go with you if you tried to escape. What knight would let a maid steal a princess’s horse and get away with it? They’d be tracking you in no time.”

“……”

“Even if you ride him for a few days, that horse will stay here, living his life as my horse—a horse that can’t even be ridden properly. So worry about your own situation and put on that oil instead of thinking about the horse.”

Only then did Layla glance back down at the jar of oil in her hand. Between her long, fluttering eyelashes, there seemed to be a hint of sadness. Malyn took a deep breath, the kind that only someone who’d let out a flood of words could. For a brief moment, silence fell between the two of them.

“…I’m sorry. No, I’ve committed an unforgivable offense.”

With that, Layla knelt down. Malyn instinctively straightened her back. Layla, still holding the oil jar, bent low to the ground and pressed her forehead to it. Thud, thud, thud – three times. Layla had often apologised to her, and each time Malyn had told her to stop after three bows. This time, however, Malyn just watched, saying nothing as Layla went through the motions. Slowly, Layla rose to her feet and, without looking at Malyn, held out the jar with calm composure.

“I return this to you. I have overstepped and asked for something far beyond my position.”

“No…”

“I forgot that you are enduring enough cruelty and hardship on my behalf.”

Layla’s lips moved faintly as she looked down at the floor. Malyn watched her without blinking.

“I’ll make sure not to trouble you again… or rather, I’ll try. But if, in my foolishness and clumsiness, I fail again…”

She trailed off into a long silence, leaving the words hanging in the air.

And if it happens again? Will I beat her? Throw her to the king’s savage dogs as food? Or, like the old her who looked down on me, will I continue to forgive her each time she tells me she’s committed an unforgivable offense? A thousand thoughts flashed through Malyn’s mind.

But instead of speaking, Layla slowly set the jar of oil down next to where Malyn was sitting. A bit of the white oil had seeped through the seams of the finely crafted wooden container. Layla took a respectful step back and said.

“Thank you for your consideration.”

Malyn was astonished. Layla’s behaviour was exactly the same as when she had reluctantly handed the gift from the knight’s squire to the stableman a few days ago – right down to the hesitant withdrawal of her hand.

‘Who does she think I am?’

The sight of Layla refusing help, even with her hands cracked and bleeding, made Malyn feel as if she had become that squire herself, which made her feel angry. Of course, she had always been willing to give Layla a hard time, but this… this felt like something else entirely.

‘Do you think I actually like you?’

Consideration? Who does she think I am, treating me like some squire! Annoyance flared up within Malyn. As if I’m doing this out of some strange fondness for her. I’ve never shown her any consideration—it was simply a reminder of her place.

The white oil the princess had so readily refused now belonged to Malyn. Since her arrival at Veldam Castle, Layla had not enjoyed a single luxury. But her calm rejection of this oil, as if it were scattered everywhere and easily accessible, was something Malyn could neither understand nor accept. Without realising it, she stood up and grabbed Layla’s arm just as she was about to turn away. Layla jumped at the sudden grip.

“What are you…”

“Don’t get any ideas. Consideration?”

With that, Malyn pulled Layla down forcefully, causing her to stumble and sit on the floor. It was a ridiculous sight, watching her fall so clumsily. Malyn sneered, pressing her knee into Layla’s thigh. Layla took a sharp breath; the pressure on her thin, firm thigh must have hurt.

Malyn climbed onto Layla’s lap, who was still sitting on the floor, and twisted open the jar of oil. With a small cracking sound, the wooden container opened easily. Layla’s eyes widened in surprise; no matter how calmly she tried to act, the situation was clearly unsettling.

“Know your place.”

Malyn scooped out a generous amount of the oil with two fingers and roughly spread it onto Layla’s hand. The thick, white oil hit her skin with a squelching sound. Layla tried to pull her hand back in shock, but Malyn was relentless. She gripped Layla’s hand firmly with her left hand and rubbed the oil onto it with her right.

“With hands like these, bleeding and cracked, stop wasting your thoughts on a horse.”

“But…”

“Every word you say just annoys me, so don’t say anything.”

Malyn grumbled under her breath as she meticulously spread the oil over Layla’s hands. Her skin was so dry and cracked that it quickly absorbed the oil wherever it touched. Even after applying the oil, Malyn pressed her thumbs firmly into Layla’s hands to ensure it fully absorbed.

After finishing one hand, she moved to the next, pressing the oil into the cracked skin between each finger. By then, Layla seemed to have resigned herself, letting her hands relax. Malyn’s hands became sticky from the excess oil, even after covering every joint on Layla’s hands. She clicked her tongue in annoyance and rubbed her hands together to wipe off the excess, which was more than she usually used.

Then, unexpectedly,

“…Thank you.”

A small voice echoed in Malyn’s ear. Startled, she looked over – and was even more shocked. Layla’s deep blue eyes looked directly into hers. Unlike their usual glances, either up or down, they were face to face, side by side, and very close. Malyn suddenly realised that she was still sitting on Layla’s lap. She tried to pull away in surprise, but stumbled and fell backwards. Layla reached out to catch her, but Malyn’s fall was too fast.

As a result, Malyn ended up sitting back, and Layla’s body leaned over hers. It felt strange. For some reason, in that moment, Layla’s gaze seemed to move slowly, almost like watching clouds drift across the sky. Both of them were silent, locked in each other’s eyes.

One, two, three.

It was a brief moment, yet it felt as if time had stretched endlessly. Malyn felt like she should say something and, almost without thinking, said something she didn’t truly mean.

“If… if there was some benefit in it for me, I might be willing to help you.”

“A benefit?”

Wait. Why did I say that? Malyn wanted to stop herself, but the words kept spilling out, going entirely against her intentions.

“It’s hard to read on my own. Trying to go through ‘The Thorn Princess’ alone is challenging again.”

“…Would you like me to read the book to you?”

“And it seems I should teach you to ride as well.”

Layla’s face flickered, and Malyn tilted her chin up, annoyed that Layla’s gaze was slightly above hers, giving her the feeling of being looked down upon.

“Besides, that horse is mine now, so there’s no chance you’ll ride it to escape.”

Taking what Layla once had and claiming it as her own—acting more like a princess than this fake maid—was Malyn’s way of rationalizing her actions. By evening, she could convince herself that this was all about asserting herself.

But part of the moment was impossible for her to fully explain. She told herself she simply wanted to read ‘The Thorn Princess’ and that, in the long run, acting more like a princess than the actual princess would work in her favor… or so she decided to believe.