Ch#158
The reception was technically informal, but a heavy sense of importance hung over the gathering. Much of that gravity stemmed from the venue itself—the Oak Forest. As the couple stepped into the ballroom, the twisted brambles that might have slowed anyone else seemed to offer no resistance to their progress.
Lower-ranking guests bowed their heads in a silent show of deference as the pair glided into the room. Only one man remained upright, possessing the status to keep his gaze level. Claude, the Crown Prince, lifted his drink in a silent greeting.
Every person in the room instinctively tracked Claude’s movements. Protocol dictated that he was the first to be acknowledged. Other members of the Royal Family were scattered throughout the hall, but for the time being, everyone maintained the illusion of mutual anonymity.
Standing right beside the Prince, his head dipped in a respectful curve, was another man.
It was Macauliffe.
The schedule hadn’t called for an encounter yet, but there he was, positioned right at the center of power. Whether this was a deliberate maneuver by Claude remained a mystery.
Yuls stole a quick look at Adi, who met his eyes with a comforting beam. He wasn’t entirely sure if her cheer was genuine or if she was simply following the instruction to smile through uncomfortable moments. Regardless, her expression fit the atmosphere perfectly. Yuls felt a quiet laugh bubble up in his chest; the reason for her smile didn’t actually matter.
“Your Highness,” Yuls acknowledged.
“Duke,” Claude replied.
“The journey was long. I imagine you are quite worn out.”
Claude tipped his glass slightly. “I wouldn’t dream of missing the moment my most steadfast subject announces his betrothal.”
As the Prince spoke, a sudden, freezing sensation pricked at the back of Adrina’s neck. Feeling the weight of a dozen unseen eyes, she glanced over her shoulder. Someone had definitely been watching her with intense focus, but the feeling vanished the moment she turned.
“Isn’t that the case, Adrina?”
Adrina remained silent. Her gaze fixed on Macauliffe. He kept his posture low, though his eyes were sharp and calculating. Seeing the faint curve of Adi’s lips, Macauliffe interpreted her expression as a smirk of triumph.
In his own mind, Macauliffe was convinced this entire event had been orchestrated for his benefit.
“And the Viscount is here as well,” Yuls noted.
Adrina and Macauliffe were already locked in a silent stare.
“I wasn’t aware this was a debut for your future bride, Your Excellency. My best wishes to you,” Macauliffe said, his voice smooth as he took control of the rhythm of the conversation.
He leaned in slightly. “I was under the impression this party was held in my honor.”
The subtext was sharp: That’s what you promised me, Duke. It was a subtle demand for restitution, as if he were being compensated for a previous Slight. Yet the reality of the event was shifting beneath him. The Crown Prince’s presence and his specific choice of words suggested that he and Yuls had coordinated this long before the first guest arrived.
“A party for you, Viscount?” Yuls let out a soft, amused sound. “Rest assured, I have made arrangements for your interests as well.”
The implication was clear: a separate venue would have sufficed. So why were they here? Macauliffe was desperate to secure a foothold in the South, the wealthiest province in the Kingdom of Dalkatir. He needed to win over the local elite, but the Duke’s mysterious fiancée was currently monopolizing everyone’s curiosity.
He wondered how he could possibly outshine her. If he couldn’t beat her, perhaps an alliance was the more logical path.
“Then, would you permit me to address you as Adrina?”
Adrina turned her gaze toward him. Her features were a mask of perfect neutrality, offering no hint of her thoughts. Even the most disciplined faces usually leaked some emotion, but she gave him nothing at all.
“I…”
The atmosphere grew tense. Her next words would dictate the political alignment of the room.
“I would prefer you address me as Guard, Viscount.”
She was shutting him out. It was a rejection he hadn’t anticipated. He wondered if the Duke was being possessive, unwilling to share her influence. Yuls was proving to be far more avaricious than he had signaled—much like Count Grimaldi.
“I understand,” Macauliffe replied. He decided to pivot and claim whatever ground was left before he was pushed out of the inner circle entirely. “As you wish, Guard.”
He needed to act before the spotlight was completely stolen. “In any case, I appreciate you hosting this.”
Yuls hadn’t yet explicitly defined the purpose of the night. Because he had arrived with a woman on his arm, the guests naturally assumed it was an engagement announcement. Simultaneously, because Macauliffe—the man holding the keys to the proposed free trade city—was present, investors were hovering like vultures.
Had the Duke arrived solo, Macauliffe would have been the undisputed star of the evening. But Claude’s endorsement and the presence of this unknown woman had changed the math.
“What exactly are you thanking me for, Viscount?”
A fresh face was always the catalyst for gossip. For now, the Duke’s future wife was a far more compelling mystery than a trade delegate.
“Well, you did accept my proposal, so a thank you is in order, isn’t it?”
Claude took another sip, his eyes dancing with mischief as he watched the play unfold. He was well aware that Macauliffe had tried to distance himself from the throne. The King had forbidden Claude from making any overtures to the man, and thanks to the sorcerer Yuls provided, the Prince no longer needed Macauliffe’s services.
Was the Viscount looking for a new master because he felt his influence slipping?
Yuls remained largely silent, though he could feel the weight of the room’s scrutiny. In this world, the smallest gesture was dissected for meaning. He reached out and placed a hand firmly on Adi’s waist. The crowd’s eyes followed the movement instantly. Yuls’s eyes crinkled with a genuine-looking warmth.
“It is certainly entertaining to watch the Viscount try to take charge.”
Macauliffe looked down at the Duke’s hand.
“However,” Yuls continued, “I have a much more vital objective for this evening.”
It was becoming painfully obvious that the Duke and the Prince were in total alignment. Macauliffe glanced at Claude, who maintained that same impenetrable, pleasant mask. It was a look that mirrored Adrina’s stoicism. There was a strange, unsettling similarity in their expressions.
“…”
Macauliffe realized he had seen that specific look once before. Count Grimaldi smiled exactly like that. He wondered if that cold, artificial cheer was simply a trait shared by the elite of the Kingdom of Dalkatir.
“I believe the Viscount’s business can wait for another occasion,” Yuls declared.
With one sentence, he stripped Macauliffe of his leading role. Adrina Grimaldi clearly had no intention of sharing her territory, and the Duke seemed completely captivated by her. With Claude no longer offering a hand, Macauliffe felt the walls closing in.
“Even if that person…” Macauliffe stepped into Yuls’s personal space. His voice dropped to a whisper, intended only for the four of them. “…is the offspring of a house that stands in direct opposition to your own, Your Excellency?”
He watched Yuls closely. “The room would be horrified to learn the true identity of your bride-to-be.”
Yuls’s face went rigid for a heartbeat.
“You are being played, Your Excellency,” Macauliffe hissed.
But then, the Duke’s smile returned, more mocking than before. It was the look of a man who was entirely unaffected by the threat—or perhaps, a man who had been waiting for it.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re implying, Viscount.”
“Wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness?” Macauliffe pressed.
Claude, suddenly being dragged into the confrontation, merely shrugged. His expression was one of bored detachment, signaling that he had no intention of throwing Macauliffe a lifeline.
“Your Excellency, that woman is your sworn enemy.”
“Is that meant to be a slight against my fiancée?”
“No, sir, I was only—”
“Even Claude would find it difficult to ignore an insult directed at my future wife.”
The Prince watched the exchange with visible delight. He could see the other guests straining to overhear the hushed argument, though the distance ensured they wouldn’t catch a word. Claude chuckled quietly to himself.
“I am perfectly aware of her background,” Yuls announced, his voice suddenly projecting across the immediate area. “Isn’t that so, Guard Adrina Dean?”
The name “Dean” hit the room like a physical weight. The connection was made instantly; the Duke was intending to marry a woman of low birth. It was a scandal that would dominate conversations for months, even if the reaction was largely one of disdain.
“Your Excellency, please, what I meant was…” Macauliffe started again.
This time, Yuls moved toward him, cutting him off.
“There was never any true animosity between myself and Count Grimaldi, you see.”
Macauliffe’s expression faltered before he regained his composure. The Duke knew. He knew Adrina Dean was a Grimaldi.
“If only the Viscount…” Yuls paused for effect. “…hadn’t made use of Lev Zid.”
The man who had started the blaze.
“You didn’t hide the evidence well enough.”
The true purpose of the gathering in the Oak Forest finally became clear.
“Lev is still breathing.”
The secret they had kept hidden beneath the trees was now in the light.
“So, Viscount,” Yuls said, his voice cold. “It isn’t your turn to speak yet.”
Macauliffe felt a sudden, primal urge to flee.
“You’ll just have to wait.”