The Great Escape

Chapter- 13

A/N: Unedited at it's best, please do point out any typos if you see them lol

"You have made yourself quite comfortable here, Lady Kiara." A deep voice came from behind her.

The lady turned around.

Count Monroe smiled politely at her. Red hair parted from the left side, swept behind and tied in a pony behind his head. Beard trimmed to perfection and moustache groomed beneath a strong, long nose. He wore a well-ironed black coat and pants. A golden rose brooch on his breast pocket and it's chain pinned to the black tie.

"Good morning, my Lord." Lady Kiara bowed. "A beautiful morning, is it not, my Lord?"

"Not for everyone, I am afraid, Lady Kiara." He gestured at the hallway exit.

Lady Kiara walked out with the Count beside her. The blood on the doorknob of Ada's room called out for her immediate attention as she walked past it.

Should I tell the Count?

Is he credible?

She curbed the urge to take a closer look.

"Your mornings start early," Count Monroe spoke from beside her.

"No, my Lord, yours start late—" Lady Kiara closed her lips shut in regret, but laughed softly behind her gloved hands to not to appear offensive.

To her relief, the Count laughed too. "You possess a merry disposition, Lady Kiara. Surely you must be an awful company when one wants to cry their heart out."

"I have been told I am an awful company regardless of the situation." She shrugged as they stepped out of the hallway into the backyard.

"Up until now, what you have been told seems wholly untrue."

Five servants rushed towards the Count and held the large umbrella above his head, shielding him from the sun rays.

Lady Kiara did not correct him and stepped further into the backyard. The dead bodies had been removed. The soldiers were now pouring water and salt on the stained grass.

"What is the status of my missing knights, my Lord?" She asked.

"Worry has made a permanent residence in your heart. This might cause you to be ill, I am afraid."

"My heart seems fine to me."

"The illness comes with advancing age."

"I received this splendid trait of being a worrywort from my father's side. The finest specimen exhibiting it is my aunt. The devil of a woman is still alive after exploiting the world's resources for over hundred years."

Count Monroe laughed. "Mayhap, she is an exception."

"I concede." She smiled. "Inheriting her exceptions is the prime part of my nightly prayers, my Lord."

"Prayers seldom yield fruit. If possible, you must choose to take least risk."

"That is a pessimist bend of mind." She pointed out. "My father taught me, greatest risks bears sweetest fruits, my Lord."

"I can not challenge that idea." Count Monroe quirked his eyebrow. "Unless I wish to have your father challenging me for a duel."

"My father is not that easy to flare up." She chuckled. And he has better things to do, she added mentally.

The guards were leaving the backyard after coating the blood tainted grass with salt and lime. They bowed and departed in a formation.

"We are not on the same page on that matter."