Thus, Amaia found herself watching Iona disguise herself as Carmen inside a carriage with all its windows covered.
â...Do you really need to accompany me to such an extent? This feels like a very dangerous choice,â Amaia asked, his voice tinged with worry.
It seemed less out of concern for Iona and more for her own safety. After all, if it were revealed that the person he brought along as the Viscountess was not actually Carmen, Amaiaâs life would be forfeit on that very day.
The bitter irony was that the one who orchestrated all this, Iona, would likely remain unscathed. Iona had both the martial skills and the status to avoid any sudden misfortune.
âWe havenât built that level of trust yet, have we?â Iona replied, tossing her long boots under the chair.
Even during their journey here, Iona had to adopt a disguise to avoid detection. With a headscarf and plain cotton clothes, she convincingly resembled an ordinary housewife.
Still, Amaia didnât place much trust in her ability to disguise herself.
Amaia replied in a firm voice, âYouâre worrying unnecessarily. My life is already on the line.â
âYour life isnât only in my hands. Besides, the Viscountess youâre talking about is quite the unpredictable free spirit,â Iona said, raising her eyebrows in mock agreement.
Amaia closed her mouth, realizing she had no further arguments. With just that brief rebuttal, she was painfully reminded of the necessity of a stand-in.
Carmen, after all, had a history of eloping with her lover. Entrusting her with this critical mission would be foolish at best.
Amaia quickly shifted her persuasion tactics. âYour husband will be worried too.â
âWell, considering youâre the one who actually caused me harm, itâs a bit rich. Ah, speaking of which, my husband asked me to remind you to be discreet and avoid drawing attention.â
â...â
âOf course, Iâm joking.â
Despite Ionaâs reassurance, Amaiaâs hardened expression remained unchanged. The hostility of someone in power was rarely a pleasant kind of attention.
Though it seemed like she had tattled, Iona hadnât intentionally disclosed Amaiaâs actions to Leroy. Quite the contrary, she had done her best to conceal them.
After her skirmish with Amaia, Ionaâs first priority had been to cover the bruise on her face with makeup. Her preparations paid off, as the results were seamless.
The issue arose because Leroy and Iona spent most of their time together.
Even as they were about to sleep, Iona insisted on keeping her makeup on, prompting Leroy to grow suspicious.
âIsnât it uncomfortable to sleep like that?â he asked.
âUm⦠Iâm just too lazy to remove it,â Iona replied nonchalantly, turning to face the other direction.
But Leroy didnât take his eyes off her, noticing the layers of makeup were unusually thick.
âIn that case, just give me your face; Iâll take care of it,â he said.
To her surprise, he wasnât joking. He actually went to the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth.
Startled, Iona sat up immediately. She tried to retreat to the head of the bed, but when Leroy blocked her path, she realized she had cornered herself.
Trapped between the headboard and Leroy, Iona reluctantly offered her face to him.
âYou donât clean makeup like this,â she protested.
âIf you prefer, I can take you to the bathroom instead,â Leroy replied, ignoring her protests.
He seemed to have already suspected what Iona was hiding, and thatâs why he pressed her so firmly.
Leroy tilted her chin upward, gently wiping her cheek with the cloth. His hand wandered aimlessly at first, but eventually stopped at one spot. His gaze sharpened as he examined the area around her temple.
âAhâ¦â
The cloth pressed against her injured spot, and Iona let out an involuntary groan of pain. Leroy immediately pulled his hand back, though his stern gaze remained fixed on her.
âDid you get this injury at the Viscountâs manor? Are there any other wounds?â
ââ¦I just took a punch for show. Something like a performance,â Iona said, pretending to be tougher than she was.
It was a posture often seen in lovers trying to appear strong in front of each other, though their dynamic was a gender-reversed version of that trope.
âSo thatâs why youâve been obsessively checking your reflectionâto hide the injury from me.â
â...â
âWhat if I hadnât noticed? What then?â
âI didnât tell you because I knew youâd react like this. I didnât want to worry you.â
âIf you didnât want to worry me, you shouldnât have let yourself get hurt in the first place.â
Leroy retorted and stared at her silently for a long time.
Did he realize she had hidden the injury precisely because she predicted his reaction?
Still, Leroy didnât scold her further or demand an explanation for the details.
Without hesitation, Leroy reached out and pulled Iona into his embrace.
As he gently stroked her back, he spoke softly.
âDonât do this again. You donât need to pretend in front of me the way you do with others.â
âI wonât,â Iona replied firmly.
âAnd it would be even better if you didnât get hurt at all.â
âIâll try my best,â she answered with determination, wanting to ease Leroyâs worries.
However, Leroy seemed unconvinced, letting out a small sigh. Resting his chin atop her head, he murmured, âIt upsets me.â
Somehow, his words embarrassed Iona, who hesitated awkwardly like a broken machine. Summoning her courage, she eventually wrapped her arms around his back in return.
The warmth they exchanged through their embrace seemed to convey an unspoken understanding and deep emotions. Neither Leroy nor Iona let go for quite a while, prolonging the moment.
Feeling relief that things had gone better than expected, Iona let out a quiet breath. Leroy, however, looked at her with a gentle smile.
And then, in an incredibly soft tone, he asked, âSo, was the culprit that maid?â
Caught off guard by the affection lingering in the air, Iona managed to hold herself together with sheer willpower. She turned her head, pretending ignorance, and replied, âWho knows?â
It was a feeble attempt at feigning ignorance, but at least she hadnât directly thrown Amaia under the bus.
Leroy didnât press the matter, seemingly uninterested in forcing Iona to reveal something she didnât wish to. Still, the strange smile on his face carried a faintly ominous undertone.
âOf course, he wonât just let this go.â
Iona had no intention of stopping Leroyâs private revenge, should it come to that. While she had temporarily set aside her personal grudge for the sake of cooperation, the spot where Amaia had hit her still hurt.
If Amaia dared to argue that she had suffered worse, she wouldnât have much to counter with.
****
âHow do I look? Pretty convincing, right?â
Iona, now fully dressed, asked as she pulled the black veil over her head.
Todayâs outfit was a loose-fitting black dress that concealed her figure, effectively disguising the differences between her body and Carmenâs. The thick, black veil paired with the mourning attire made her stand out even less.
Amaia, who had been silently watching her disguise herself, finally admitted begrudgingly, â...Youâre convincing.â
âRight?â Iona responded lightly, taking a seat and pulling back the curtain on the carriage window.
Fortunately, it seemed they were ready in time, as the carriage was nearing its destination.
The meeting place was a warehouse far from the city center.
âDo people usually meet in places like this?â Amaia asked, his tone skeptical.
âI havenât met them in person myself. The management has changed since I was in Bardem,â Iona replied.
âWhat did you do in Bardem?â
âI handled several people who were... inconvenient to Her Majesty the Empress or her brother.â
âIâm curious how you got involved in such dangerous work,â Amaia commented, her voice tinged with curiosity.
âOnce I took on one job, I couldnât back out. Besides, the pay was good,â Iona replied succinctly, ending the small talk.
Amaia rose from her seat as the carriage came to a halt in front of a small makeshift building.
--- End Of The Chapter ----
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