Your Majesty, Please Spare Me This Time

Chapter 2

Surely Lehan hadn’t made it to heaven. My eyes widened at the fact that my brother, who had died before I had, was here—and I had no doubt that this was the afterlife.

“Lehan is here?”

“Why do you keep saying nonsense? Where else would the master be if not at Bellua Manor?”

“He can’t have been sent to heaven...” I began to retort, but then I shut my mouth.

What had she just said?

“Where are we again?” My voice grew raspy as I frowned deeply.

Nanny softly stroked my creased forehead with her thumb until it was smooth again.

She answered, “We’re in the Empire of Vellnelni, at Bellua Manor. And this is the attic of the annex. My lady, are you still dazed from sleep?”

“This is Bellua Manor?”

The manor had been burned down in a fire someone had started a month ago, the day Father and Lehan had been arrested. I had seen with my own two eyes how only the blackened frame had remained. It just didn’t make sense.

I pressed my hand to my racing heart and looked around the room. Yes. I knew this room. This was the room of penitence, a room Father had often used to punish me and Lehan as children. It was an old attic in the annex of the manor. I had always hated this room because both its darkness and being alone had terrified me, but I hadn’t been inside once since I’d turned twelve.

“My lady?”

“What day is... I mean, how old am I now?”

“It’s your birthday today, so you’re twelve now.”

“Twelve?”

I froze in place, as white as a sheet. Nanny looked at me with concern. No way. This couldn’t be Bellua Manor. Twelve? I had died at eighteen.

Leaving Nanny’s worried gaze behind, I ran to the door. If this was Bellua Manor, and if I had woken up in the room of penitence, Lehan was surely sleeping in the small bedroom next to this one. He had been a good little brother—as a child, anyway—and had always stayed in the room next door whenever I’d been forced to spend a night in this room because he knew how utterly terrified I was of being alone.

I could barely speak, but I eked out a few words to call for my brother.

“Lehan, Lehan!”

The door didn’t open. Riddled with terror, I banged on the hard, paulownia wood door with my hand.

Be there, please be there. Please. Please.

“Lehan! It’s Laliette. Please open the door! Are you in there?”

My desperate voice now hitched with sobs. I wanted to see Lehan again. If this wasn’t heaven, and I didn’t care if it was hell, I wanted to see my little brother, the one I hadn’t been given the chance to say goodbye to before he’d perished by guillotine.

“Lehan!”

The heavy door hastily opened with a click, and out came a boy who had barely finished dressing.

“What can I do for you?”

He wasn’t the sturdy young man I remembered, but the young face resembled Lehan’s.

No, it was definitely him. His tangled hair covered half his face. Unlike my dull, pale brown hair, Lehan’s was the deep, dark brown of the Bellua family.

I rushed in to hug young Lehan, who seemed a little confused. Once I’d charged into him unexpectedly, Lehan peered up at me. His eyes were serious, not befitting of a child.

“Have you had a nightmare, Sister?”

Ever since he was ten years old, Lehan maintained a respectful manner when addressing me. I had cried, thrown tantrums, and raged for him to stop. But until the day he’d died, he’d made no attempt to quit. Oh, how much I’d missed his darn tone. Smiling as I cried, I kissed Lehan on the cheek.

“Good morning, Lehan.”

“Happy birthday, Sister,” Lehan said stiffly, wiping away the tears in my eyes with his tiny hands.

◇ ◆ ◇

There was a dress spread out neatly across the bed, probably by a maid, and I picked it up in my arms. It was a thick, winter frock made of green velvet that suited the light green velvet ribbon that held up my high ponytail of fine, brown hair.

I had been too excited to feel the cold before, but now that I was hugging the thick dress with beautiful golden embroidery, I quickly realized how scantily I was dressed. I had been running around this whole time in only the negligee I wore to sleep. I understood now why Nanny had strangely walked with me in her arms even though I was already twelve. I had always been weak against the cold.

Shivering, I hopped in place as I quickly threw the dress over my head. Usually, a noble young lady would wait proudly until a maid came to dress her, but thanks to Father’s frugal nature, I had never even had a personal maid.

Nanny returned with a basin of water to wash my face and stretched out her hands as if to help me. But before she could even reach me, I had changed into the dress myself.

“Oh, my lady. When did you learn to put on a dress by yourself?”

“I’m twelve already!”

In my previous life, I had started changing alone without Nanny’s help when I was fourteen, two whole years from now. Of course, I had the ability before then, but that had been the age when I absolutely didn’t need her help anymore. I held my head high, as if I had always been this independent. Turning around to face her, I shrugged.

“I’m all grown up, you know.”

“You’re right. My little lady really is all grown up.”

I had thought that if I learned to dress myself, Nanny would be happy and proud of me, but even back then, she had looked very disappointed. Right now, she had the same—no, even worse—crestfallen expression with a forced smile. Her lousy, fake smile caused me to realize I had made a mistake, so I ran to her and opened my arms.

“Hold me.”

“Huh?”

“It’s cold. Hold me.”

I had spoken highhandedly, but Nanny seemed touched by my brassy, arrogant command. As soon as she’d embraced me without hesitation, I unfastened the hairstyle I had put up myself.

“All right, I dressed myself, so you should quickly brush my hair again and put on my shoes.”

“Aw, my lady. You just said you were all grown up.”

“And wash my face.”

“Just for today, okay? Since it’s your birthday,” Nanny said with admonishment as she sat me down in front of the vanity, acting like she had no choice. But I saw that her face lit up again.

As Lehan and I matured more and more by the day, Nanny wasn’t able to hide her melancholy. But as with most children, we had wanted to grow up as soon as possible. The more Father had emphasized the duty of nobility and how we should serve as examples, the more I had wanted time to pass and to become a grown lady who could lead my life completely independently. I had failed to remember that once my childhood was over, Nanny would no longer be by my side.

“You want it braided?”

“Yeah. You do it prettier than Dorotha.”

The comment had been calculated to lift her spirits, but it was still the truth. Dorotha was clumsy with my hair and sometimes made a mess of it. I snuck glances at Nanny, who looked proud to hear it, though the same comment would surely disappoint Dorotha.

I giggled. “Nanny, when I’m all grown up and you return to Coen Manor, you still have to come and visit every single day, okay?” I added.

She laughed a little too. As I listened to Nanny’s soft laughter echo in the room, I closed my eyes softly. Her hands tenderly brushed down my hair. It was pleasant.

It had been forever since she had handled my hair. The year I had turned fifteen, Nanny had returned to her hometown, Coen, for good, and then she had died the next year. I wrinkled my nose and resolved to never let Nanny anywhere near a carriage.

“By then, you won’t be here at Bellua Manor either,” Nanny answered, a beat late.

I scoffed, knowing that, even by the age of eighteen, I hadn’t gotten married. The House of Count Bellua had been a respected household, but despite our reputation, I had never received a marriage proposal. Not a single house had wanted to build a relationship with the Bellua family through me, and everyone had thought it strange.

Even as I thought back on it now, I didn’t understand it. Not to mention that it had been a little humiliating. Lehan was a year younger than me and, as a man, could get married slightly later than a woman. And yet, since he’d been about fifteen, all sorts of young ladies from all sorts of families had been pushed on him for all sorts of reasons. I, on the other hand, had merely been flirted with once by some baron I had never even heard of.

I had been extremely ordinary. I was the only daughter of House Bellua, a house respected by the common people as well as the nobility. I was the only girl in a family full of sons, even among our extended family. Physically, I had no particular flaws, and other than the fact that I was a little short-tempered, I was truly indistinctive.

Taking after my father, I was dry, stiff, and not the least bit affectionate. It certainly wasn’t a temperament likely to be popular among men, but noble marriages were arranged between families. Such trivial issues couldn’t be considered a problem, and the renown of House Bellua was more than enough to supersede them. Most young noblewomen had grown up self-centered and had terrible personalities anyway.