Chapter 12
Bert returned as the dinner hour approached. Finding Adi still at her post, having not moved an inch since he left, he suggested she take some time to recover. He then turned his attention to Yuls, who was the subject of Adi’s lingering gaze, and addressed him formally.
Yuls looked up from his work. After a brief glance in Adi’s direction, he gave her permission to depart. She offered a respectful bow and exited the room. Bert leaned toward the doorframe, tracking the rhythm of her retreat. He waited until the corridor was silent before pulling back into the room.
“Your Grace,” Bert began.
“Speak,” Yuls replied.
“What did you learn from the encounter this time?”
Bert asked the question without much hope. A decade of the same cycle had conditioned him to expect a familiar disappointment.
“She claimed the wait was nearly over,” Yuls said.
“That woman always makes such promises,” Bert countered.
Yuls continued, his voice neutral. “She gave a timeframe of one week.”
Bert blinked, caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?”
“She insisted the answer would reveal itself within seven days. Apparently, the solution is already in my vicinity.”
“Nearby?”
“I am currently reviewing the inventory of items provided by the Countess,” Yuls explained.
“What sort of object are we looking for?”
“It has to be a physical thing,” Yuls reasoned. “Nothing else has come into my possession lately.”
His certainty was thin. He regretted not pressing the witch for more specific details regarding the appearance of the cure. She had offered her assistance should he struggle, and he wondered if it would be premature to seek her out again the following morning. Precision seemed more valuable than patience at this stage.
“And the task I assigned to you?” Yuls asked, shifting focus.
“They remain stationary,” Bert reported. “There is no sign of them making a move.”
“They have no reason to act yet,” Yuls said. “More importantly, they harbor deep suspicion toward me.”
“They trust your reputation, Your Grace,” Bert clarified. “It is your physical form they find impossible to rely on.”
Yuls let out a dry breath. “Assuming I am ignorant of the world’s machinations simply because of my stature is a mistake only a novice would make.”
“Appearances dictate reality for most people,” Bert reminded him gently. “Is that not the very reason you are so determined to end this?”
Yuls felt a sharp sting of annoyance at the remark, though he knew it was accurate. The world was obsessed with the surface of things; it was the reason the nobility spent fortunes on their presentation. He had learned that lesson the hard way. In the early days of his lordship, he hadn’t understood the weight of his condition.
As the years passed without him aging a day, the whispers had grown into a roar. The Woodpecker line was said to be cursed. He was trapped in a body that refused to grow.
His search for a remedy had taken him across the map to every supposed expert. Because no one could accept a child as the Duke of Woodpecker, Bert served as his public face. Outside of the highest circles, the Duke’s true face was a mystery, especially since he had withdrawn from the social scene once his lack of growth became undeniable.
Yet, one person had seen through the facade.
‘You look out of place in those common clothes, Duke,’ the lone witch of Dalkatir had told him. She had seen everything.
‘The witch is responsible for your state, but it is no curse,’ she had claimed.
Yuls disagreed. It was a curse in every sense of the word.
‘Because, Your Grace…’
The memory made his head throb. He pressed his palms against his temples, trying to soothe a dull ache that seemed to shift whenever he tried to pin it down.
‘…you are not a human being.’
He was certain of one thing: this was a curse.
*
Back in her quarters, Adi pushed open her window. Below, the evening lights began to flicker to life. She turned to survey her room in the dim, natural glow. Everything remained as she had left it. She paused for a second to look at the bedside portrait of herself and Adrian before gathering a fresh chemise and heading for the washroom.
The water ran warm as she undressed. Standing under the spray, she pushed her soaked hair away from her face. A strange sensation settled over her. Her usual experience of Pallesa was one of grit and noise—a chaotic place thick with the scent of sweat and populated by fools looking for a fight. She had always been glad she was the one here instead of Adrian; his gentle nature would have withered in such a place.
But today’s version of Pallesa, draped in the colors of late spring, felt different. It was as if a vibrant filter had been placed over a previously gray world. The greenery seemed more vivid than anything she had seen in Grimaldi. It was beautiful, and that beauty made her heart race in a way that felt entirely wrong.
“This is irritating,” she muttered.
She scrubbed herself with unnecessary force, trying to wash away the confusing emotions along with the dirt of the day.
Once finished, she donned her chemise and secured her leather chest binder. It was time to return to the Duke’s quarters. She was still drying her hair when she felt a shift in the air—an intruder was nearby. Dropping the towel, she moved silently toward the bed, retrieved a hidden blade, and grabbed her change of clothes from the wardrobe. She pulled on her trousers and tucked the dagger into her belt.
A knock followed. While she occasionally had visitors, no one usually lingered at her door with such persistence. She opened it just an inch.
“Adrian?” a voice asked.
“Who wants to know?” she replied, looking at a face she didn’t recognize.
“Roy Gallardo. First Team, Second Knights Order.”
“What do you want?”
“I have a proposal. Are you going to let me in?”
“Identification and logbook first,” Adi demanded.
The man grumbled about her being overly cautious but surrendered his notebook and unpinned the cameo from his neck. Adi allowed him entry.
“You wear your armor even when you’re off duty?” he asked, stepping inside.
“That’s my business,” she said.
“It looks uncomfortable, that’s all. I heard you were free this afternoon, so I came by.”
He made himself at home, taking a seat and glancing around the shadowy room. Complaining about the lack of light, he struck a match and lit a candle on her desk.
Adi inspected his logbook while he reattached his cameo. He began looking around for a mirror, but she cut him off.
“Roy Gallardo of the Second Order,” she stated. “Why are you here?”
Roy leaned back, crossing his legs with an air of practiced confidence. He rested his face on his hand and looked at her with a demanding gaze.
“I want your assignment,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“That post was meant for me. You only got it because I was sidelined during my recovery. You shouldn’t even be there.”
“I don’t follow,” Adi said.
“The Duke only uses new recruits for his personal guard. Under normal circumstances, I would be the one at his side. You were a last-minute addition that cost me my spot. Besides, it’s not like you enjoy the work.”
“Actually, I do,” Adi countered.
“It’s peaceful and predictable,” she added. “Perfect for an escort.”
Roy scoffed. “There’s no way you actually believe that.”
She recalled the servant who had briefed her on the endless list of prohibitions before she started. The rules were intense, but the reality of the job hadn’t been taxing. Still, something didn’t add up.
“Forget whether I like it,” she said. “Why are you so desperate for this specific post?”
“Because it’s Duke Woodpecker.”
“And?”
“What do you mean ‘and’?”
“Why is he the reason?”
Roy rolled his eyes. “This is typical of territorial nobles. You don’t understand how things work.”
He stood up, his frustration mounting. “You have a family name and a future waiting for you outside these walls. I don’t. If I don’t secure a powerful patron by the time I’m thirty, I’m finished. I’ll end up as a common watchman in some backwater town. This job is my only ticket to the inner circle of the high nobility.”
“A patron doesn’t have to be a Duke or a Royal,” Adi pointed out.
“You’re the one who doesn’t need to be here at all,” Roy snapped.
He clearly couldn’t fathom why a Count’s heir would bother with such a position. He was right about the real Adrian, but he didn’t know Adrina.
“The assignment isn’t up to me,” she said flatly.
Furthermore, her father had specifically ordered her to stay close to the Duke.
“If you want the job, take it up with him,” she suggested.
“You think he’d listen to me?”
“You think he’d listen to me?” she mimicked.
“Adi Grimaldi,” Roy said, stepping closer to loom over her. He tried to use his size to intimidate her, but she didn’t flinch. He eventually let out a defeated sigh.
“I am truly desperate here.”
“Then show some humility,” Adi said.
“Your approach is pathetic. If you want me to give up my position, you should be on your knees begging.”
“It’s not a confession of guilt,” he muttered.
“I don’t care about your motives, Roy. Your career goals are your own problem.”
She found the whole situation suspicious.
“If I agreed to this, you’d just tell everyone I quit because I couldn’t handle it. You think the Palace would just let me walk away from a royal assignment like that?”
The Duke’s preference for rookies was odd, but Roy was even stranger. If he wanted a path to power, the princes were a better bet. With summer approaching, the palace would be full of royalty.
“I’m fine with staying exactly where I am,” Adi said, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at him. Her expression was one of cold disdain.
“If you’re asking me to sabotage my own standing for your benefit, you should be groveling like a dog. Why are you standing there acting like you’re superior?”
Why was he so fixated on Woodpecker when there were better options? Was there a hidden reason?
“Is your lack of status the reason you have no manners?” she asked.
She wondered if Roy had been bribed to get close to the Duke, just as her father had pressured her.
“You arrogant brat,” he hissed.
“I suppose I am the brat of Pallesa Palace,” Adi replied, lifting her chin.
