Ch#162
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How had he managed to conceal a blade? Had some accomplice passed it to him in secret? Such questions were irrelevant now; the moment for prevention had long since vanished.
Lev had already driven the steel into Macauliffe. While the Palace guards held back, wary of the man’s desperation, the warriors from Ionad were positioned much closer. They had likely felt a false sense of security, believing their shared heritage with Lev offered some protection.
That kinship meant nothing to him now. Lev lashed out with violent kicks and swung the dagger in wide, frantic arcs to keep the surrounding men at bay.
One particularly youthful knight moved in too close. Lev’s blade caught him across the brow, splitting the skin and sending a torrent of crimson down over his eyes. Blinded and terrified, the boy shrieked, his weapon clattering to the grass. Lev pounced on the opportunity, seizing the discarded sword. It was impossible to tell if he intended to use it for an escape or to continue his slaughter.
The gathering collapsed into absolute bedlam. Screaming aristocrats scrambled for safety the instant the first strike landed. While a small contingent of royal and local guards formed a perimeter around Claude, the Woodpecker Watchmen moved swiftly to shield the remaining nobility.
The scene of a refined garden party was utterly desecrated. Blood splattered the fine linens draped beneath the canopy where, only minutes ago, laughter and the chime of crystal had filled the air. Most of the lanterns had been extinguished in the fray. In the murky, flickering shadows, a suffocating stalemate took hold between Lev and the knights.
Lev was trapped, and he surely knew it. There was no path to victory and even less hope for flight. With a massive trunk at his back and a crescent of steel facing him, he was cornered. The Ionad men, shaken by the sight of their wounded comrade, were slow to advance. Meanwhile, the Knights of Pallesa Palace watched him with cold, calculating eyes; they had never harbored any warmth for him and felt no impulse toward leniency.
Even those who had once considered Lev a friend looked on with masks of pure shock. The air was thick with a tension that seemed to vibrate. Despite the distant wails of the fleeing crowd, the immediate circle was hauntingly quiet. Macauliffe’s screams had ceased. He had bled so profusely that the spark of life had likely already left him.
“Lev Zid.”
A voice rang out from the Pallesa contingent.
“Your villainy is exposed. You are under arrest by the authority of the Throne.”
Lev met the speaker’s gaze with a look of pure loathing. Beneath his surface rage, there was a glimmer of frantic annoyance, as if he simply could not process the reality of his downfall.
“You are responsible for the destruction of the ducal woods and the murder of a peer. You will answer for these crimes in a court of law. Surrender now, or the consequences of your resistance will be far more severe.”
“Crimes?”
Lev barked a sharp, hollow sound that might have been a laugh.
“I am not the one you want. He is.”
He gestured wildly toward the slumped, dying form of Macauliffe.
“He provided the venom!”
The accusations poured out of him. He claimed the man had commanded him to torch the woods, promising that destroying the Witch’s creation—the very foundation of the Duke’s power—would restore the natural order. Lev had been led to believe that this path would lead him to his heart’s desire.
He had dreamed of returning to Grimaldi. At the time, that was the only goal he understood. Looking back, he wasn’t even certain if the land itself was what he craved. Regardless, the yearning had been a physical ache—to return to those frozen, beautiful northern wastes and the people he once knew. To one person in particular.
“Adrina,” he whispered.
“Speak up,” the knight commanded, confused. Lev’s eyes were fixed solely on her. He had known she was here in Woodpecker and had intended to reclaim her, to bring her back to their shared home.
But the woman standing beside the Duke was a stranger to him. Instead of her familiar armor, she wore a soft, verdant gown. He had never seen her in such attire, and her beauty was arresting. However, his gaze snagged on the vivid red ring adorning her hand. The stone was a deep, piercing crimson—the exact shade of the Duke’s hair.
“Ha.”
A ring.
The realization shattered him. For a heartbeat, he tried to convince himself that this woman was merely a double, an impostor wearing Adrina’s features. But he knew that face too well.
Lev shouted her name again, his voice cracking. The surrounding guards looked at one another, completely lost by his fixation.
“Adrina!”
His face twisted into a mask of fresh agony and fury. At the sound of her name, she finally looked at him. While Lev was a storm of unbridled emotion, Adrina was a pool of still water. Her expression was hauntingly neutral. After a brief look, she leaned toward the Duke, an act of intimacy that turned Lev’s vision red with hate.
“Your Excellency, I believe his focus has shifted to us,” Adrina remarked. Yuls suspected she was completely misreading Lev’s actual motivations, but he simply nodded in agreement. Her emotional oblivious nature was almost a blessing in a moment like this—though it was a miracle she had ever found the words to confess her love to him.
Yuls let out a soft laugh. Adi looked at him, her brow furrowed.
“Forgive me, but this seems an odd time for mirth, Your Excellency.”
Her bluntness only made his amusement grow. He couldn’t help himself. She watched him with genuine bafflement, clearly unaware of the irony.
“I was once told something quite profound,” Yuls said, his arm sliding naturally around her shoulders. “That winning the heart of someone so guarded is a far greater feat than earning the affection of a passionate soul.”
“A sensible observation,” she replied.
“And yet, I find myself loved by the most guarded person of all.”
Yuls turned a sharp, triumphant look toward the man standing by the tree. It was a silent boast, a declaration that he possessed everything Lev had ever wanted. The message hit its mark. Lev’s eyes burned with a murderous light. The Duke had stolen her. Without his interference, everything would be different; the Duke had dismantled his entire world.
Lev shifted his weight, tightening his grip on the stolen sword. The knights braced for a frontal assault, but Lev’s target was far more specific.
He bolted. The knights expected him to strike at them, but he ignored the blades that bit into his shoulders and arms, using his momentum to smash through their line.
The sudden break caught the guards off guard. Nobles in his path shrieked and dove aside as the blood-soaked man tore through the clearing.
The Woodpecker knights were forced to prioritize the safety of the guests. If a noble was harmed on their soil, the political fallout would be catastrophic. This left a clear path for Lev as he sprinted toward the Duke.
No one had anticipated he would be bold enough to target the Duke directly. The royal escort, the Watchmen, and the scattered nobles could only watch in stunned silence as Lev raced toward the edge of the blackened Oak Forest.
“Duke!” Lev screamed.
Adrina moved instantly, stepping into the gap to shield Yuls. Her hands vanished into the folds of her skirt, and when they reappeared, she held steel in both. A light rapier occupied her right hand, while a heavy dagger was gripped firmly in her left.
Lev swung. It was the Grimaldi style—the same art she had mastered, the moves he had watched her perform a thousand times. The man who had once been her mentor was now trying to cut her down. But Lev had never been a true master of the technique.
He lacked the lineage.
“Adi!” A chorus of voices shouted her name—some warning her, some pleading for the Duke’s safety, others purely terrified for her life.
The legends said the Grimaldi style was unbeatable.
But those legends didn’t account for a Grimaldi fighting back.
She caught his heavy downward strike with her dagger, redirecting the force as she whipped the rapier upward, aiming for the base of his skull. In a disciplined duel, the fight would have ended there. But Lev was beyond caring for his own life; he took the cut to his shoulder to wrench his body away and reset his stance.
Even as his blade flowed into the next position, Lev’s eyes wide with a strange, internal panic. It was as if his body were moving on an instinct he didn’t quite recognize.
Adrina showed no such hesitation. She drove her dagger deep into Lev’s wrist and followed with a brutal, horizontal sweep of her rapier.
The blade was too thin for a clean bisection; had she been carrying her heavy duty sword, he would have been severed. As it was, the steel only bit halfway through his torso.
It was enough. The wound was fatal. Lev’s strength vanished, and he began to collapse, his legs giving way.
The spray of blood from his chest painted Adi’s light green dress.
It was a vibrant, shocking red.
“Are you unharmed, Your Excellency?” she asked.
The color was a perfect match for the Duke’s hair.