Chapter 122
While mending Adi’s injuries, Joel kept a cautious eye on the room. Yuls appeared tense, his features set in a hard line, while the Count remained as unreadable and cold as a statue. Since both men radiated a palpable sense of displeasure, Joel felt caught in a thick, uncomfortable silence. He decided his safest course of action was to bury himself in his work and focus entirely on the healing process.
Although Lev was positioned right beside Adi, Joel refused to acknowledge his presence. His instructions were specific to Adi’s care; despite their shared profession as knights, he felt no sympathy for a man who would raise a hand against a woman. He took some private satisfaction in the fact that Adi seemed to have given back far worse than she received.
In contrast to the heavy atmosphere, she seemed perfectly composed.
“Dame,” Joel whispered.
“I am listening.”
“How are you feeling?”
“The skin where the gash was feels a bit itchy now,” she noted. “Aside from that, I am perfectly fine.”
That wasn’t the reassurance Joel had been looking for. It occurred to him that Dimitri’s training of the girl was still a work in progress. Time had likely been short, but he felt she desperately needed to learn how to gauge the underlying tension in a room.
It wasn’t his place to lecture her, however. Too many voices giving orders would only muddy her focus. He resolved to mention it to Dimitri at a later time. For now, he offered a small, polite smile. “I’m glad to hear it’s only a minor itch.”
Yuls and the Count were locked in a silent, icy staring match. The only person finding any joy in the confrontation was Claude. Though the Prince shot a sharp look at the head chamberlain for serving tea instead of spirits, the drama unfolding before him was intoxicating enough to make up for the lack of alcohol.
Lev Zid had manipulated his connections in Ionad to trap Adrina. When threats failed to move her, the situation had devolved from a verbal dispute into a violent physical clash between knights.
Lev’s comrades had likely assumed they could easily overpower a lone woman. They had walked into the fight expecting a simple suppression, completely unaware that they were facing the notorious Dog of Pallesa Palace.
The aftermath was swift; those knights now languished in confinement. The final disciplinary actions for the members of Yuls’s Escort Knight Division remained undecided.
“What is your move, Count?”
The fate of Lev Zid was the only thing that seemed certain.
“One of my men has been harmed,” Yuls stated, lifting his tea. His crossed leg moved with a restless, rhythmic twitch. Spencer Grimaldi tracked the movement from the cup to the foot before finally locking eyes with Yuls.
“And yet, she was the victor.”
Yuls’s voice was laced with bitterness. His face was so contorted with anger that one might have guessed he was the one who had been defeated. He spoke with a sharp, biting edge.
“I expect restitution for this.”
“Name your price.”
“I want to see how far the Count is willing to go first.”
Spencer Grimaldi’s eyes drifted toward Adi and Lev. He was weighing the value of his assets.
“Extinguishing his life would be an unnecessary loss,” the Count remarked. “He is too talented a knight to waste over this.”
Yuls remained silent.
“I will grant any other request,” Spencer concluded.
Typically, a lord wouldn’t demand the execution of a subordinate just for losing a duel. As Yuls tried to decipher the man’s logic, Claude—who understood Spencer better than most—realized the hidden edge of the proposal.
If Adrina had been the one defeated, Spencer would have certainly demanded her as his prize. Claude couldn’t decide if the current outcome was a stroke of luck or a different kind of tragedy.
“Strip him of his rank,” Yuls demanded. “Cast him out.”
“Your Excellency, annulment of knighthood is no small matter.”
“A man with his skills won’t stay a commoner for long. Someone else will surely snap him up.”
It was true; Lev would be a coveted prize for any lord if he became a free agent. Had circumstances been different, even Yuls might have seen his worth. But now, Yuls wouldn’t take a dozen men like him if they were offered on a silver platter.
“The Zid line has served the Grimaldis for generations,” the Count countered. “Beyond that, the blow to his mother—my wife’s chief maid—would be devastating.”
“You promised anything, yet you start with a refusal.”
“I am, however, willing to banish him from the Grimaldi lands.”
“Is that not the result you truly desire?”
It was a half-truth. Lev was a threat, and his presence in Grimaldi was a ticking clock. The man seemed obsessed with possessing Adrina by any means necessary. Yuls suspected the Count wouldn’t interfere with Lev’s schemes; in fact, he’d likely welcome Adrina being brought back to the family through Lev’s efforts.
The most important goal was to put distance between them. While losing his title would have been ideal, physical separation was the immediate priority.
“Very well. We have an agreement.”
“I will prepare the formal documents and have a Mage notarize them,” Yuls added.
“As you wish,” the Count replied, showing no sign of regret.
Yuls rose, his irritation still visible, and glanced at Claude. The Prince merely shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I don’t suppose you’re waiting for me to escort you out?”
The thought hadn’t crossed Yuls’s mind. Claude Dalcatir was not the type for such courtesies.
“I think I’ll stay here and offer my sympathies to the Count for his sudden loss,” Claude said. His words were draped in fake pity, but his eyes were dancing with amusement.
“We’re leaving,” Yuls announced.
Adi and Joel fell into step behind the Duke. Spencer Grimaldi watched his daughter. Aside from some dried blood in her hair, she looked remarkably restored.
He found it telling that a rare Healing Mage had been used for such superficial injuries. Such mages were scarce even in the capital. While a Duke could certainly afford one, using such a resource on Adrina Grimaldi suggested Yuls valued her far more than as a mere subordinate.
“I give my blessing,” the Count called out as Yuls reached the exit. “To Adrina maintaining her connection with you.”
Yuls froze and turned back. Beside him, Adi’s posture stiffened.
“She is a Grimaldi, after all. It is her right.”
“Adi is not part of your house.”
“On paper, perhaps. But she carries my blood.”
The sheer arrogance of the statement left the group momentarily stunned. Yuls exhaled sharply and turned away for good.
“Let’s go.”
As they retreated, Claude lifted his cup in a mock toast to their backs. He didn’t care that they couldn’t see the gesture. A soft, dark laugh escaped him.
*
The journey from the Prince’s quarters back to the Duke’s estate was passed in total silence. Yuls usually favored the third-floor drawing room, but today he veered toward the second floor. He didn’t wait for the staff; he threw the door open and entered himself.
Confused, Adi looked at Joel. He was already watching her.
“I have duties to attend to, Dame. Please, go inside. I’ll send for Gavin or Dimitri.”
“Thank you, Joel.”
She understood he had likely been pulled away from important work just to patch her up. Adi entered the room and pulled the door shut behind her.
Yuls was standing in the center of the room, staring at the entrance as if lost in thought. He hadn’t even sat down. When Adi walked toward him, she noticed his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists. He seemed wound tight, like a spring about to snap.
“Your Excellency?” she prompted.
He turned his gaze to her, studying her features for a long moment. “Are you truly unharmed?”
“I am perfectly fine.”
With the magic Joel had applied, there was no reason for pain, but Yuls still reached out. His fingers hovered near where her face had been bruised. The marks were gone, yet he seemed to be searching for the ghost of the injury. When he finally touched her, it was a ghost of a caress, tentative and light.
Adi didn’t understand the look of pain on his face. Acting on instinct, she tilted her head, resting her cheek against his palm. The contact startled him, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he began to stroke her skin gently. A wave of intense, unfamiliar emotion crashed over him—a feeling so old he had forgotten its name.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt the urge to weep. Perhaps when his mother passed, or when the crushing weight of his loneliness first settled in.
“Your Excellency?” Adi whispered. “Is something the matter?”
She could sense he was balancing on an emotional edge. Yuls forced a thin, fragile smile.
“No. It’s nothing.”
His expression betrayed the lie.
“Are you hiding it because you don’t trust me?”
“That isn’t it.”
He simply lacked the words. He was a master of social navigation, yet in her presence, he felt utterly lost. Looking down at her, he spoke without thinking.
“May I hold you?”
Adi paused, surprised by the vulnerability of the request. “Of course,” she replied.
The moment she consented, Yuls pulled her into his chest. She could feel a slight tremor in his hands. Still confused by his behavior, Adi reached up and mirrored the gesture, patting his back to offer whatever comfort she could.
“I am here for you, Your Excellency.”
The irony of her comforting him brought a faint, dry chuckle from his throat. He wondered briefly who was supposed to be the protector in this relationship. He tightened his hold, pulling her close enough to feel her warmth, though he was careful not to hurt her.
Over her shoulder, Yuls stared into the empty room. His eyes were cold and filled with a lethal, silent resolve that Adi could not see.
