Chapter 113
“If I spare Macauliffe’s life, what reward will you grant me, Your Highness?”
Bloodlines certainly manifested in the strangest ways. The blunt manner in which she dictated terms was a perfect mirror of Spencer Grimaldi. It was unsettling, considering they had spent almost no time together; it wasn’t as if the man had ever had the chance to coach her in the art of the deal.
“State your price,” Claude replied.
“I have no specific request at this moment.”
Claude frowned. “Then why bring it up at all?”
“The future is unpredictable,” Adi answered.
Her intent was clear: she wanted a favor held in reserve, a debt from the crown.
“I want your word,” she continued. “If I ever require your intervention later, or if I happen to overstep my bounds and show disrespect, you will grant me a single pardon.”
Claude watched her for a silent beat. “You truly are the Count’s daughter. He used to negotiate with that exact same logic.”
“I’ll take that as your consent,” she said.
“Are you certain he didn’t raise you in secret?”
Adi didn’t bother to justify that with an answer. The history was common knowledge: Spencer Grimaldi had been a fixture in Ionad until the King exiled him. By the time he actually returned to his northern lands, his offspring were already adults. Shortly thereafter, one of those children was reported dead—yet here she was, the supposed corpse standing right in front of him.
“Then again,” Claude mused, “the Count appeared out of thin air just as you did. No one expected a man of his caliber to emerge from the Grimaldi line.”
Prior to Spencer’s rise, that family was regarded as little more than a pack of northern butchers. They were a primitive house of hunters, indifferent to whether their prey was a beast or a fellow man.
Then Spencer had arrived, seemingly out of nowhere. He was so distinct from the previous Count that rumors of illegitimacy would have been rampant if not for their shared physical traits. He had spent his youth as a page in the capital, earned his spurs, and served in the Escort Knight Division until his father’s passing forced him back to his inheritance.
Claude couldn’t quite recall the details of the man’s marriage. Most of his knowledge was based on palace gossip. Regardless, the Count had remained in Ionad even after the wedding to serve the current monarch.
“Was your grandmother a woman of particular note?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Forget it. I agree to your terms. Should you act out of turn, I will look the other way once. Should you need my help, I will lend it—just once.”
Adi narrowed her eyes at him. The speed of his agreement made her wary.
“However,” Claude added, “I have my own stipulation.”
She had expected as much. “I am listening.”
“I need a vow. A guarantee that you will never turn against me or my brother.”
“How can I provide such an assurance?”
“Who can say? Perhaps we should merge our houses?”
Marriage was the most durable contract, but Claude immediately dismissed the thought. He was trying to sever ties with the Grimaldis, not bind himself to them. And Yuls? No, that wouldn’t work either. There seemed to be no conventional way to secure her loyalty.
“But what does it matter?” Claude said with a hollow laugh. “You are the Count’s own flesh and blood, yet you are already plotting his downfall.”
“This is a matter of vengeance, Your Highness.”
“Vengeance and betrayal are two sides of the same coin. You refused to kill Macauliffe, didn’t you? To the Count, that is an act of treason, not just a personal vendetta.”
“I didn’t betray him; I simply declined a task. I suspect the Count sees the distinction as well.”
Claude wasn’t the type to argue over a settled refusal. But he had another thought.
“I suspect the Count is focused on something far more significant than that.”
There was only one prize the Count truly wanted from Adrina.
“He would certainly view that outcome as the ultimate betrayal.”
Even if it wasn’t her doing, the Count would blame her. And when that day arrived…
Adi felt a ghost of a smile touch her lips. She imagined he would be absolutely livid.
“May I go? I left without informing anyone of my absence.”
“Go ahead.”
He gave his permission. As she turned to bow and leave, Claude’s voice stopped her.
“Adrina.”
Before she could react, Claude reached out and grabbed her cravat. He jerked her downward by the collar, forcing Adi to look up at him as she struggled to keep her footing.
“Take the front entrance. Don’t use the secret path.”
“…….”
“The King has no interest in you. He trusts Yuls as much as he trusts me. Walking out the main gate won’t cause the Duke any trouble.”
His temper was insufferable. He could have just said the words without the physical intimidation.
Still, he was the Crown Prince, so she kept her mouth shut. Besides, the prospect of trekking through the woods and sneaking back into the Duke’s estate was exhausting.
“He is a member of the royal family before he is a Duke, Adrina.”
In any event, the King wouldn’t penalize Yuls over a common knight. Adi watched Claude for a moment before nodding. His insistence suggested that if a conflict ever arose, the Crown Prince might actually stand by the Duke.
Claude let go, and Adi straightened her clothes. She smoothed the wrinkled fabric of her neckwear, brushed the dust from her legs, and offered a stiff bow before departing. Claude watched the door close and let out a long, weary breath. He knew that door would open again soon. Once the Count realized his daughter was gone, he would arrive in a rage.
“I am so tired of this,” Claude whispered, pressing a hand over his tired eyes. “I am sick of it to the point of death.”
Yuls couldn’t get a read on them. He was certain they were hiding a deeper agenda, yet they refused to discuss anything but the trade bill.
“The Kingdom of Dalkatir is far too closed off compared to our neighbors,” one of them argued. “We cannot sustain this isolation.”
“And what of our local industries?” someone countered. “They will be crushed.”
“That is why we focus on our weakest sectors first. Stimulating the economy and increasing efficiency is far better than rotting in solitude. The world is changing; we cannot remain frozen in time.”
“If the Crown won’t move, then at least remove the trade barriers on the individual territories.”
Baron Bringli picked up the thread from Baron Chenigudel. Yuls rubbed his chin, his eyes turning into cold slits as he listened.
Their logic wasn’t entirely flawed, which made it more irritating. What bothered him was that none of the men speaking actually held any land of their own. Furthermore, Macauliffe had remained strangely silent.
The debate flowed perfectly, as if every rebuttal and point had been rehearsed in a script.
“Your Excellency, giving Lords the power to set their own trade rules would breathe life into their domains,” Viscount Zauner added.
“Prosperous territories mean more tax revenue. It’s a win for the Crown. Every fief would have a chance to shine. Look at the Montac family and their pearls, or the Bashtro timber. If they could sell freely, the entire kingdom would flourish. We just need to step away from this old-fashioned exclusion.”
“I hear you,” Yuls said.
It clicked then. These men didn’t need land; they could make fortunes as brokers between Dalkatir and the outside world. By championing the rights of the lords, they were also buying political allies.
“It is a compelling argument. But how do we ensure Dalkatir isn’t exploited? Have you thought of the risks?”
Yuls leaned forward.
“Currency values fluctuate wildly between nations. Without strict oversight, our markets will be flooded with foreign goods. We have to consider taxes, transport, and the inevitable legal battles. Even if we pass this law, the implementation will be a nightmare.”
Macauliffe’s eyes brightened. “We have addressed those concerns, however—”
He stopped mid-sentence, his expression flickering with shock. He had noticed a chamberlain entering the room.
Yuls followed his gaze. Ivan was walking toward the window, where he leaned in to whisper to Dimitri. Dimitri’s face went pale as he listened.
A moment later, Dimitri approached the Duke.
“Your Excellency,” he whispered, leaning close. “Adrina is gone.”
The color drained from Yuls’s face, leaving it like cold stone.
