Bound By Fate: Mated To The Enemy

Chapter8

Layla POV

“Lady Melody?” the voice called from the other side of the door, high-pitched and frantic. I blinked, momentarily frozen.

Lady Melody? The name sounded foreign yet familiar, at the same time. Before I could respond, the door burst open, and a young woman in a maid’s uniform rushed in,

"Oh goddess"I exclaimed when I was not able to cover myself up in time, and then she started screaming.

The girl kept screaming, and I dove to the ground, picking up my dress and tugging it over myself.

"You need to stop screaming like that" I called out hopping on one foot as I tried to detangle the clothes and sheets around my feet.

"Stop it " I screamed, and she stalled immediately, looking at me with wide eyes. I was more dressed now, even but she was still staring at me like I was some sort of ghost. Mostly she was staring at the scar on my chest, the door was still open.

"Close the door, will you?" I muttered, and she turned to do just that.

The maid—she looked to be only a few years younger than me, with dark hair braided tightly down her back—frowned, her hands wringing over her laps.

“Lady Melody, thank the moon you’re awake!” she exclaimed, her voice high-pitched with panic, her face was pale and her hands were wringing a white apron tied around her waist.

I walked back to the bed, and collapsed on it, and it was like she seemed to realize it then that I was out of bed she stopped short at the sight of me sitting, her wide eyes scanning me from head to toe.

“What are you doing up?” she demanded, her tone a mix of concern and exasperation.

“You’ve been unconscious for days, and the moment you wake up, you’re out of bed? Do you want to collapse again?”

"I just wanted to-" I started but she cut me off.

“You’re far too weak for that Lady Melody” she muttered and I blinked at her, my mind reeling.

Lady Melody? That was the second time she called me. My lips parted, but the questions crowding my head refused to form into words. She paused, her hands stilling as she finally seemed to notice that I wasn’t in bed but standing awkwardly by the small table where the tray of untouched cups and kettles sat likely water or maybe tea.

“I—”

“Shh, none of that now,” she said, bustling over to my side and shooing me back down onto the bed as if I was a child who’d tried to sneak out after bedtime.

“You’re still recovering,you really shouldn’t be out of bed, not in your condition my lady. You can’t go around frightening everyone like this."

“My... condition?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper but she was barely listening anyway.

"Your father would have our heads, that’s what!” she continued.

“You were burning up with fever, and after everything you’ve been through—oh, Lady Melody, you mustn’t push yourself! Rest is what you need.” she urged but her words were not computing at all, and I found myself nodding dumbly as she pulled the blanket back over me. I blinked at her, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions she directed at me.

“I... I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course my lady?” she interrupted, her voice softening as she stepped closer, concern replacing the sternness in her expression that had seemed so out of place on her face.

“Oh, my lady, you’ve always been so headstrong. But you must take care of yourself. Please, for all our sakes.”

For a moment, I let her fuss, my mind still stuck on the name she had called me.

Lady Melody. It didn’t make sense.

My name wasn’t Melody—it was Layla. Or at least, it had been. Why was she calling me that? My name was Layla—wasn’t it?

"Why are you calling me that?” I asked unable to stop myself, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay calm.

The maid tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face.

“Calling you what?” she asked her brows wrinkling.

“Lady Melody,” I said, the name tasting strange on my tongue. She frowned, looking genuinely confused.

“But that’s your name, my lady.” she mumbled , looking worried now, It was almost on the tip of my tongue to say no but instead I said.

" Oh" She took a hesitant step toward me, her hands outstretched to touch my forehead.

"My lady, you must be confused from the fever. You’ve been through so much—it’s only natural to feel disoriented.” she added like she were trying to soothe a frightened animal.

I was in a new body now, it made sense that my name would change right, even though my face and body still looked so the same. I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts.

“I need to get up,” I said, my voice firmer this time.

“I can’t just lie here.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself. " She cried, moving around to keep me in bed.

“The healer’s orders,were for you to rest until you’ve fully recovered.” she whispered still wringing her fingers tightly.

“I feel fine,” I lied, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I really couldn't remain in bed for long. My body protested the movement, my muscles a bit weak and unsteady, but I gritted my teeth and stood.

The maid let out a sharp gasp.

“Lady Melody!”

“I’m fine,” I said again, though I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead. My legs wobbled, and I grabbed onto the bedpost for support.

"My lady" she cried but despite her exasperation, there was a fondness in her tone that caught me off guard.

She guided me toward the wardrobe, her grip firm but gentle.

“If you’re so determined to get up, at least let me help you dress,” she said, opening the wardrobe doors to reveal an array of gowns and robes in rich fabrics and colors. I stared at the clothes a bit surprised, my mind spinning.

These weren’t mine. None of this was mine. And yet...

I reached out, my fingers brushing them against the soft silk of a midnight-blue gown.

The sensation was familiar and almost comforting,for a brief moment a memory flickered at the edge of my consciousness—distant, blurred, but undeniably there.

" I'd like a bathe first" I mumbled and she looked conflicted then she nodded.

"Maybe that's not such a bad idea."

“Your father does wish to see you,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“My father?” I echoed,

“Yes,” she said, nodding earnestly her expression softening.

“He has been waiting for you to wake up. He was so anxious—he hardly left your bedside, my lady.”

Her words sent a fresh wave of confusion crashing over me, my father had never worried about me.

“Do what it take to get me to him then” I said finally, keeping my voice steady.