“What did you do today?”

It was far better to concentrate on the woman lying next to him than to dwell on his confused thoughts. Somehow, when he talked to Malyn, his worries seemed to melt away. At his question, Malyn chuckled, still lying down.

“As I told you, I spent the day laughing and enjoying myself. I lead a charmed life.”

“I envy you.”

He replied with a smile, brushing his thumb gently across her cheek. His comment was casual, but Malyn’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You envy me? But you’re the king… Well, I suppose it must be hard to play the role of a king when you’re not one…”

“It’s not so much the burden of playing someone else’s role, but rather, hmm…”

Since the King always wore his mask and did not like his subjects to look at him, Layla found it relatively easy to play the role once he had overcome the challenge of facing the Knight Commander. The real difficulty, however, was actually ruling as king. Veldam was a large country, with five major lords under its rule, and there was an endless stream of matters that Layla had to deal with in the King’s place. Remembering what he’d learned in passing during his time as a princess, he struggled to keep up with the responsibilities, and it drained him completely.

Hearing this, Malyn burst out laughing.

“So even esteemed lords have such problems? I always thought it would be great to be a king.”

“Well, you learned from being a princess that it’s not all that pleasant, didn’t you?”

One of Malyn’s eyebrows twitched at that, though her mouth curved into a smile, and Layla knew she wasn’t really annoyed. She curled up and pretended to bite his wrist where his hand rested on the bed. Amused by her playful gesture, Layla couldn’t help but smile and leaned down and kiss her forehead.

It wasn’t long before their kiss deepened. Malyn’s slender arms wrapped around Layla’s neck and he kissed her neck, forehead, cheeks, nose and lips again and again. He held her waist tightly, his other hand parting her thighs as he settled between them. Layla felt her fingers fumble with the front of her dress against his chest and couldn’t help but laugh as he kissed her.

“Why are you laughing?”

Malyn asked, pretending to pout. Layla pressed a soft kiss to her lips and whispered.

“Just thinking about how well I did.”

They both knew what he hadn’t said – that watching her small fingers move so earnestly made him feel he had made the right choice in taking on this role. The thought soon dissolved in her soft moans. With a hasty movement, he buried his face in her chest and let all other thoughts go.

* * *

“Should I hit you after all?”

It was a playful remark, as if to say, ‘How can a madwoman and a mad king have so much fun? Malyn, her head resting on Layla’s chest, chuckled softly and rolled over.

“Well, if you like, bring a riding whip tomorrow.”

“Really?”

Layla’s eyes widened and Malyn grinned.

“I’ll give you a few strokes myself if you like.”

Their soft laughter filled the room and soon faded. The sounds of their pleasure, which had probably reached the ears of those outside, still lingered in the silence. Layla ran her fingers gently over Malyn’s shoulder, tracing the curve of it as she leaned against him.

Layla couldn’t help but worry every time he saw Malyn’s thin, bony shoulders and collarbone. He often asked her to eat more, but she always said that most food made her nauseous, so she only nibbled at fruit. Besides, she said, her thin, frail appearance suited her role as a madwoman. “I have always had a hard life and never had the chance to fill up, so this is normal for me,” she would say. It hurt him to hear it and made him want to do something for her. But as they both struggled to maintain their false identities, he realised how hard it was just to live in peace.

“I wonder what that pesky Paradi is up to now.”

“Paradi?”

“The thought of a riding crop just reminded me of him.”

She was thinking of the horse that used to gallop freely around Veldam’s courtyard when Layla was away, escaping with a wild spirit. Despite her words, her expression softened, betraying a hint of fondness.

“I should have given him a good smack on the nose before he left.”

No, scratch that – maybe she didn’t miss him after all.

Layla couldn’t help but smile at the slightly sharp but endearing words of the woman he loved. She spoke with such feigned harshness, yet he found her utterly lovable.

“You come too often.”

Malyn murmured, lying sprawled across his chest. Her gaze was too clear and bright for a so-called “madwoman,” and Layla’s expression softened, somewhere between a smile and a sigh.

“I know. Just indulge me until today.”

“As if I have a choice. You are the king, after all.”

She said with a slight pout, though she still didn’t tell him to leave.

Layla understood the unease that Malyn felt. But falling asleep alone had become difficult for him. Malyn, too, was aware of this and, knowing his struggles, never protested or uttered a single word of complaint.

Even until the day Layla donned the King’s mask, he knew nothing of anything beyond the King’s chamber and his own. The servants had cleaned the King’s blood-soaked chamber with astonishing speed, as if they somehow knew whose blood had stained the sheets.

Of course they didn’t, but with remarkable speed they erased every trace of the man who had tormented them. They replaced every sheet and even brought in a new chair. The wall hangings were changed and even the silver candlestick, blackened with blood, was replaced with gold.

Still, Layla could not sleep in that room. He had only ever seen Malyn enter the King’s chamber, heard the screams and pleas echoing from within, and forced himself to grit his teeth through it all.

Now to lie in this very room felt wrong, unsettling. The darkness itself felt ominous, making sleep impossible. Wearing the King’s mask, Layla complained of insomnia and asked for a new room. A completely different chamber was prepared as his new sleeping quarters, but he still couldn’t find rest. As erratic behaviour was typical of the King, no one questioned Layla’s frequent room changes.

But Layla’s unease only grew. Even after the Knight Commander had retreated, he still felt unsettled, and eventually he sought out Malyn’s room. Dark circles under his eyes, he clung to her and finally found peace enough to sleep soundly in her bed.

Before coming to Veldam, Layla had been almost obsessive about personal space, uncomfortable with anyone getting too close. He could still vividly remember the dried tears of the girl who had once clung to him in the cold, seeking warmth. Sharing a bed with someone was a recent development for him, and the reason was clear.

“How does a man with such fears expect to make it?”

Malyn murmured quietly.

“That’s why I made such a pathetic wish for courage from Paradi.”

Layla replied, smiling.