SECRET ELOPEMENT

THE STRANGER

Now With her immediate needs for food and shelter addressed, Kariyah found a sense of stability in her newfound solitude. Despite the potential embarrassment of returning to the Masons after her outburst, she harbored no regrets for her actions that day.

To journey to the nearest village, Kariyah contemplated the arduous trek ahead, knowing she would have to traverse the one-way road on her fragile feet. Considering the option of dismantling her furniture to aid in her journey, she hesitated before ultimately returning to her place by the fireplace.

As if on cue, the aroma of the cooked potatoes filled the air, signaling their readiness. Using a skewer to retrieve one of the piping-hot potatoes, Kariyah winced at the searing heat before patiently allowing them to cool.

Carefully slicing the steaming potatoes in half, Kariyah observed as the soft, fluffy insides spilled out from the golden, baked skins. After enduring a day of hunger, the first bite brought her parched mouth sweet relief. The well-seasoned potatoes proved to be a satisfying distraction, occupying her thoughts for a considerable time.

However, upon regaining her senses, Kariyah realized with a start that the potatoes she had intended for the following day were now depleted.

"When was the last time I ate this much?"

she wondered aloud, reflecting on her past experiences with food. Living under the Masons' roof, Kariyah considered herself fortunate to even have one meal a day, though the quality often left much to be desired, often resulting in sickness and discomfort.

"I've had enough of this repulsive leech!"

Kariyah recalled the venomous words of the Countess directed towards the Count when she was merely eight years old. Despite lacking the signature red hair and freckles of the Masons, the Count had begrudgingly acknowledged her as one of their own. In her youthful innocence, Kariyah had once believed in the existence of kind-hearted individuals who would accept her for who she was. However, her idealism soon shattered as she came to realize the true nature of the Masons.

Their acceptance of her stemmed not from kindness, but from the cold calculation of nobility, identifying her as the illegitimate offspring of one of their own. Yet, during her time under their roof, Kariyah had never suffered from hunger. On occasions deemed special or when Jasia's mood was amiable, she would be permitted to dine at the table. Yet, more often than not, she found herself dining alone in the seclusion of her own chamber.

If the Countess happened to be in a foul mood, Kariyah's meals would go to waste—a stark reminder of her tenuous position within the household. She had resorted to pilfering food from the kitchen on one occasion, avoiding the gaze of the servants who turned a blind eye to her plight. Despite their familiarity with her bouts of stomachache, their assistance proved to be too inconvenient, leaving her to suffer in silence.

The sole reason Kariyah endured these solitary meals with the Masons was for the chance to savor fresh meat—a luxury she would otherwise be denied. Satiated from today's indulgence in potatoes meant for tomorrow, Kariyah patted her stomach contentedly before rising to seek out water. It was the first time in a long while that she had enjoyed a truly satisfying and fulfilling meal.

Despite the soreness and swelling in her feet from the arduous trek down the mountain to the nearby village, Kariyah found solace in the tranquility of her current existence. The prospect of lugging her wares to the village no longer seemed burdensome, imbuing her with a newfound sense of peace and contentment.

As Kariyah made her way back to her villa, humming softly, she cradled her newly purchased vegetable seeds, envisioning the vibrant garden she hoped to cultivate around her home. Though the soil might freeze in the impending chill of winter, she remained determined to try her hand at gardening as a pastime.

Upon opening the door to her villa, Kariyah was greeted by the warm glow of a burning candle, banishing any remnants of cobwebs, dirt, and insects that had once plagued her abode. This pristine cleanliness was a testament to her unwavering dedication to maintaining her surroundings.

While the villa boasted considerable space, Kariyah had long since abandoned the notion of cleaning the second floor, resigning herself to inhabiting only the more manageable first floor. Hastily conducting a skilled inspection of the premises, she prepared herself for the night ahead.

"Winter is fast approaching,"

Kariyah remarked aloud as she cracked open a window to allow fresh air to circulate within the villa. With fall drawing to a close, she anticipated the opportunity to finally utilize the firewood she had diligently collected over time.

Tossing a few logs into the fireplace, Kariyah resolved to treat herself to a hearty stew in celebration of the day's endeavors. The cooking process was straightforward; she retrieved a rusty yet serviceable pot and meticulously removed any traces of blood from the freshly purchased meat.

As she peeled the potatoes and carrots, Kariyah retrieved her secret ingredient, firmly believing that the key to a delicious beef stew lay in the careful selection of spices. Recalling the advice of a merchant lady she had encountered, she plucked a handful of bay leaves, trusting in the wisdom imparted to her.

Just as she began to infuse the simmering pot with the aromatic flavors of her chosen ingredients, a loud knock reverberated through the door, shattering the tranquility of her solitude. Startled, Kariyah hastily wiped her hands clean and rushed to the living room, her heart racing with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

"Who's there?"

Kariyah murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, a habit ingrained deeply within her.

Could it possibly be someone from the Masons? Perhaps they had sent someone to confirm her demise, assuming she had met an untimely end. But to their dismay, she was very much alive.

It hadn't been too long since Jasia had cruelly yanked on her silver locks for what felt like an eternity. Yet today, her hair gleamed like a golden honeycomb, a stark contrast to the memories of pain it held.

And as for Kariyah's arms? They had finally filled out enough to resemble those of a healthy human being. Yet thoughts of the Masons swiftly erased her newfound confidence, transporting her back to memories of her once emaciated self.

The mere thought of the Count discovering her current state of well-being filled her with dread, knowing all too well that he might seek to reclaim her house. With a heavy heart, Kariyah laid her dishcloth on the table, weighed down by the gravity of her predicament.

"Do I need to mess up my hair?"

she pondered aloud, her mind racing with apprehension.

Suddenly, Kariyah's attention was drawn to something peculiar. Despite her initial alarm, there had been no further sounds emanating from the front door. Could it have been nothing more than a passing mountain animal? With a mixture of caution and curiosity, Kariyah approached the door, pressing her ear against the c***k in a bid to discern any lingering traces of intrusion. Yet, to her relief, there was nothing but silence, though her anxious thoughts continued to torment her despite the absence of external disturbance.

"Perhaps a bird lost consciousness after colliding with the door?"

Kariyah mused, a glimmer of hope flickering within her.

But as she entertained this possibility, doubts crept in. Even if it were a bird in distress, what could she possibly offer to help it? Her provisions were limited to potatoes, hardly suitable for tending to injured wildlife. Despite her reservations, curiosity got the better of her, prompting her to cautiously open the door.

To her surprise, standing before her was not a bird, but a man.

Her initial impression of him was one of sheer size and stature, towering over her to the extent that even craning her neck offered only a partial glimpse of his face. And then, a sudden assault on her senses—the unmistakable scent of rusty iron, mingled with the coppery tang of fresh and dried blood that clung to the man's form.

Is he dead? Or alive?

He remained utterly motionless, not even a twitch from his fingers, resembling nothing less than a solitary knight amidst the chaos of battle. After a moment, his lips parted ever so slightly.

A faint, scratchy sound escaped his lips, barely audible amidst the stillness of the night. Intrigued, Kariyah leaned in closer, her gaze fixated on the man before her, hoping to discern his words.

And then, she saw them—the deep, dark green eyes that bore a striking resemblance to those of the Tharia imperial family. It was a feature she couldn't mistake, a trait that hinted at a connection she hadn't anticipated.

Could he be... her husband?

The man's appearance certainly matched the descriptions she had heard of Duke Bloodmoon. A renowned figure on the battlefield, his reputation had been marred by accusations of treachery and rebellion, tarnishing his legacy even in death.

"Nanny...?"

he muttered, his voice husky and strained, as if unused to the act of speaking. His eyes, though unfocused, seemed to search for something in the darkness, perhaps seeking solace in the familiarity of an absent figure.

With a sudden lurch, his towering frame faltered, threatening to collapse. Reacting swiftly, Kariyah reached out, her arms wrapping around him to prevent his fall. His body felt cold and rigid, a stark contrast to the warmth of her own.

And then, his words came, whispered in a voice laden with emotion and exhaustion.

"I... didn't do it... nanny."

The confession hung in the air, its weight palpable even in the silence that followed. And then, as swiftly as he had spoken, the man slipped into unconsciousness, his body going limp in Kariyah's arms