Ch#133
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A pair of coaches, flanked by a contingent of knights and the primary stewards, made their way toward the Grimaldi lands. The massive iron gates had been thrown wide to welcome them, the household having been alerted to their arrival well in advance.
From a distance, the manor appeared smaller than she remembered. Perhaps her time spent within the sprawling Royal Palace or the vast Woodpecker estate had skewed her perspective. Still, the distinctive silhouette of the architecture remained unchanged.
She had never imagined she would set foot on this soil as a guest rather than a prisoner. This time, there was no locked carriage; she sat atop a horse, moving with complete autonomy.
The sensation was bizarre. To return with such dignity to a place where she had once been powerless—suffocated, dismissed, and treated as a non-entity—felt surreal. This triumph was the direct result of her decision to strip herself of the Grimaldi identity.
Adi looked toward Dimitri, wondering if he was experiencing a similar internal shift.
As they drew closer, the rhythm of the hooves and wheels slowed. They crossed the threshold of the towering gates and entered the private grounds.
The Count and Countess stood waiting outside the main entrance, prepared for the formal reception of royalty and high-ranking peers. From her elevated position in the saddle, Adi stared down at them. Her eyes met those of the Countess. The older woman looked at Adi with the blankness one might afford a total stranger before shifting her gaze away.
Ivan stepped forward to open the door of the stationary carriage. Simultaneously, the door to Claude’s transport swung open. Every person present turned to watch the two men emerge.
Adrina slid down from her mount.
Claude took his place beside Yuls, his voice laced with clear amusement.
“She is even more striking than I anticipated.”
Standing near the Count was a gaunt woman who shared a haunting resemblance to Adi. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and her expression was one of profound exhaustion. Claude recognized that look well; it gave context to the Count’s previous distress.
“The resemblance between Adi and the Countess is undeniable.”
It was easy to see why the Count had been so rattled when he first saw Adrina at the gala. It must have felt like looking at a version of his wife plucked from the future. Despite the clashing hair colors, Adrina was a mirror image of Yvette Grimaldi—as if the woman had birthed her without any contribution from the Count at all.
Regardless of that, Claude added a playful remark.
“She fits my aesthetic perfectly, wouldn’t you agree?”
Yuls scowled at the comment. It was a blessing the Count was positioned too far away to overhear the Prince’s flippancy.
After a brief exchange of formalities, the Count retreated inside, followed by the Countess. She appeared entirely numb to her surroundings. Almost immediately, a head steward stepped forward to lead the party to their living quarters.
The accommodations for Yuls and Claude were adjacent to one another. They were situated in the most opulent wing of the estate—a section Adrina had been strictly forbidden from entering during her youth.
Upon seeing the rooms the Count had prepared, Claude mused that if the guest quarters were this grand, the master suite must be truly ostentatious. Adrina was genuinely surprised; she hadn’t realized the manor contained rooms high-end enough to satisfy the royal family’s tastes.
The suite followed a traditional four-room layout, providing separate areas for the serving staff and the knights. A floral arrangement graced the sitting room. While it lacked the sheer decadence of the capital’s displays, the understated northern elegance of the bouquet was captivating.
These were luxuries she had never been permitted to touch.
Adi reached out toward the blossoms, but her hand hesitated, and she pulled back before making contact.
Grimaldi servants began hauling luggage into the suite. The head chamberlains moved efficiently, throwing open windows and adjusting the heavy drapes. They performed a rigorous sweep of the area, searching for hidden exits and inspecting the sleeping quarters for security. Joel, returning from the balcony with a look of mild confusion, reported to Ivan that the outdoor walkway linked directly to the neighboring room.
Claude’s personal staff seemed equally unsettled by the lack of privacy, but Yuls dismissed the concern. Claude appeared just as unbothered.
Yuls settled onto a sofa in the drawing room. The high quality of the craftsmanship only served to irritate him. It was galling to realize the Count possessed such comfort while forcing Adrina to sleep in the servants’ wing. He couldn’t fathom the man’s cruelty. Yuls massaged his brow as Dimitri approached.
“Your Excellency.”
“Is something wrong?”
“It is a minor logistical issue. The stewards can share, but the knight’s quarters…”
The room was intended for two people. The current situation made it impossible for Adi and Roy to share a space as they might have in the past.
“Let her take the side room connected to my chambers,” Yuls directed.
To those familiar with their bond, the decision was logical. However, Yuls knew the Grimaldi household might view it scandalously. He saw no reason to clarify the arrangement to them.
A knock sounded at the door.
When it was opened, a steward from the County bowed low. He informed them that a staff of maids would remain in the corridor for any immediate needs and inquired about specific dietary preferences for the upcoming meal.
Though the interaction was professional, the steward’s eyes kept wandering toward the back of the room. When his gaze finally collided with Adi’s, he looked away with startling speed.
The experience was jarring.
She was unaccustomed to being looked at with such trepidation, just as she was unaccustomed to the luxury of these rooms.
The room where Adrina had spent her childhood was not in this modern wing; she had lived in a frigid stone chamber. Adrian, due to his delicate health, had been housed in the newer section, though his room was far from ideal. Its only saving grace was the light, but it was tucked away on a high floor that was a nightmare to reach.
Because he was bedridden and required constant monitoring, he had been stowed away near the servant quarters. Adrian always insisted he didn’t mind. He used to tell her that the height kept them safe from prying eyes, encouraging her to visit him more often.
They hadn’t been wise enough back then to realize the servants were gossiping about them regardless.
The steward finished his business and the door clicked shut. As he left, the suffocating tension in the room seemed to ease slightly. Everyone remained wary of the Grimaldi staff for their own reasons. Roy, in particular, was on high alert. Beyond guarding the Duke, he was protecting his own neck; he knew the risks of wielding the Grimaldi sword style as an outsider.
While Roy stood like a rigid statue by the entrance, Adi remained by the window, her expression calm. She might not know every corridor, but she understood the temperament of the people here. They held no terrors for her anymore.
Dimitri noticed her strange composure. When she looked his way, he offered a small, knowing smile, silently telling her she could relax.
Then, Yuls spoke.
“Adrina.”
He reached out his hand. Adi moved toward him, expecting a formal gesture, but he simply took her hand and leaned into his touch.
“Your Excellency?”
“You should go,” he said softly.
“I don’t understand.”
“There is a place you wish to visit.”
She was stunned that he had sensed her longing.
“No, Your Excellency. I should stay—”
Adi tried to dismiss the urge, but Yuls saw through the lie. “Go, Sir,” he repeated, the formal title making it an order she couldn’t refuse.
Adi hesitated. The desire to go was a physical ache, yet it was matched by a paralyzing fear.
“I understand, Your Excellency.”
She couldn’t name the source of her dread; she only knew she wanted to run from it.
“I will return shortly.”
*
The distance to Adrian’s final resting place was too great for a walk, but the journey was short on horseback. Even though she had traveled this path a thousand times, a knot of anxiety tightened in her chest with every step.
The passing scenery was a haunting mix of the familiar and the alien. The air was thick with the scent of ripening barley. She was grateful the road was deserted.
The grave was in much better condition than she had dared to hope. It was clear that someone had been tending to it. Adrina slid off her horse, secured the animal to a nearby tree, and walked slowly toward the plot. She rested her hand against the stone, tracing the letters carved by the masons she had commissioned. A ghost of a smile touched her lips.
Then, she looked away, her breath hitching as she finally spoke.
“Hello, Adrian.”
She had never allowed herself to weep in his presence. Not once. She had played the role of the protector, fearing that any sign of weakness would burden him with guilt. He had done the same for her. For reasons they never discussed, they had both maintained a facade of strength for the other’s sake.
“I’ve come back.”
The thought hit her then: she shouldn’t have been so guarded.
She should have been vulnerable. The weight of that missed honesty arrived far too late.
A breeze swept through the grass. Adrina brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes and continued to stroke the cold stone. The brilliance of the summer day felt like an insult.
Her lip began to shake. She turned her head, biting down hard as she stared at the ground.
She was flooded with words she wanted to say, yet her throat felt frozen.
She couldn’t even manage a simple apology.
She wasn’t even sure what she was sorry for, but the grief was a tidal wave crashing over her.
She tried to draw a breath to speak, but nothing came. A sharp sting burned behind her nose. Finally, Adrina gave up, covering her face with her hands.
The tears came then, violent and unstoppable.
Even though she was completely alone in the field, she felt exposed. It felt as if the entire world was witnessing her collapse—as if the sky and the clouds were judging the depth of her pain.
The summer day remained mockingly, perfectly clear.