As Layla lay in a deep sleep, exhausted after a long day working at the hospital and preparing her remedies at the palace, she suddenly felt an overwhelming fatigue she could no longer bear. She allowed herself to be gently wrapped in a welcome calm, far from the day's troubles, when she suddenly heard footsteps in the room.
She opened her eyes, slightly disoriented, and saw two women enter. One of them was the siren she recognized; the other was a stranger.
Layla's heart tightened in her chest. Fear gripped her once again, forcing her to sit up abruptly in bed. The siren swiftly removed her coat and stepped closer, a serious expression on her face.
— You have to come with me.
Layla hesitated for a moment, a wave of déjà vu washing over her. Another chase? Another trial?
Seeing her hesitation, the siren spoke firmly:
— Or would you rather go with the golden belly?
At those words, Layla leaped out of bed. Her heart pounded. She grabbed her coat hastily, saying nothing, and followed the siren out of the room. They climbed into a carriage that carried them far from the palace.
During the ride, Layla lost herself in thought, staring around her without truly seeing. She had left the prince behind. What would he think of her absence? What would she do if he ever came looking for her? And, most of all, she wondered where they were taking her now.
After a long journey that stretched through the night, Layla finally arrived before a grand and imposing palace, far from everything she knew. Upon their arrival, several attendants awaited them, their faces warm and reassuring. The atmosphere of the place was calm and filled with an air of certainty, as if everyone present already knew exactly what was about to happen.
Layla stepped down from the carriage, her thoughts still swirling. But before she could gather herself, the siren hurried inside without a word, and one of the attendants gently led her to a magnificent room. The chamber seemed meticulously prepared, and the view from the window was breathtaking immaculate gardens stretched out below, with elegant silhouettes moving gracefully in the soft glow of the moon.
But it was what she saw beyond the window that unsettled her the most.
The siren stood near Oris, her hand resting on his shoulder with an ease that spoke of familiarity. They spoke in hushed tones, their faces close, and an uneasy knot tightened in Layla's stomach. She tried to look away from the scene, but it was impossible to ignore.
Then, all at once, Oris turned his head. Their eyes met.
He had seen her.
Her heart stopped for a brief moment. He had seen her.
A rush of embarrassment overwhelmed her, and she hurried back into the room, shutting the door behind her as if it could shield her from that piercing gaze.
Was she glad to see him here? The question lingered in her mind, but an unfamiliar sensation coursed through her. Why was the siren with him? Layla was confused. Everything she had believed to be true was starting to crack before her eyes.
And now? What would happen next?
Layla's heart pounded faster, an unsettling sense of uncertainty washing over her. She stood in the lavish room assigned to her, her thoughts spiraling. Why all of this? Why so many enigmas surrounding a simple healer like me? She was nothing but a stranger in this golden world, far from the modest hospitals where she once treated the destitute. How did I even get here?
She rose and walked to the window, gazing at the horizon without truly seeing it. The pale blue sky seemed as hesitant as she was. And now? Where am I supposed to go? What am I meant to do here?
Suddenly, the door creaked open, shattering her thoughts. A servant entered, her face calm and unreadable. She stepped closer and, without ceremony, said, "Follow me, please."
Her voice was polite but devoid of emotion, as if this scene played out every day. Layla, frustrated by the constant lack of explanations, thought bitterly, Why does everyone here give me orders? Why does no one tell me anything?
Before she could respond or even think further, a familiar voice echoed...that she had come to recognize all too well.
Oris.
That mocking, careless voice filled the room, stirring an irritated spark in her chest.
"You never stop complaining, do you?" he said, his tone both teasing and amused. It was as if he took pleasure in seeing her lost and confused in this world.
Layla's gaze darkened. I'm not complaining, she thought. But aloud, she murmured, almost to herself, "I'm just trying to understand what's happening to me."
"So, the life of a princess doesn't suit you?" he continued, sarcasm dripping from his voice, as if he found her struggle amusing.
She clenched her fists in silence. She was no princess. She had nothing of royalty in her. She was just a healer, thrown into a world that made no sense to her. She had never wanted any of this.
She met his gaze for a moment, her mind racing. Then, unwilling to let him get the better of her, she answered firmly, "Not at all."
Oris turned slightly toward her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't worry," he said. But this time, his voice held a different note something darker, a hidden warning beneath his usual mockery. "There are others who will come after you. This is just a game of power, and you're part of the scenery now."
Layla froze, her eyes narrowing slightly. A chill ran down her spine. A game of power… She already felt lost, but his words only deepened the uncertainty.
She refused to be a pawn in their game.
She was not made for this.