Ch#168
==================================================
The transition of the seasons was impossible to ignore. A biting chill drafted through the iron-reinforced window, and the stone walls seemed to weep with dampness. The cot provided was far less forgiving than it looked; every time she shifted her weight on the thin, singular blanket, the wood groaned in protest.
It was undeniably a dungeon.
She hadn’t expected a feast, but a small part of her had wondered if a prisoner of noble birth might receive better treatment. That hope had been misplaced. As dusk settled, the guards brought a solitary candle, which she placed into a tarnished holder on the small table. It was a mere scrap of wax that cast a flickering, weak light. Outside the narrow slit in the masonry, the sky was a heavy shroud of gray. The entire atmosphere was stifling.
She let out a long breath.
“This is tedious.”
The room offered no distractions. Silence reigned, broken only by the sound of her own lungs and a rhythmic cough echoing from a neighboring cell. The isolation was absolute. Adi ran her fingers along the rough stone, the freezing temperature of the wall only sharpening her sense of restlessness.
Her world was reduced to a bed, a table, and a solitary chair.
As her hand dropped from the wall to the floor, she accepted the reality of her limited options. To pass the time, she began to train.
She spent nearly the entire day pushing her body through sets of push-ups. Had the cell been even slightly larger, she might have attempted to run, but she was forced to settle for jogging in place. After exhausting every other movement, she eventually inverted herself, balancing in a handstand against the wall.
The strain on her shoulders was punishing, but she welcomed the physical agony. It served as a shield against her wandering thoughts and numbed the gnawing boredom. She had never realized that having nothing to do could be such a brutal form of torture.
In her past duties supporting the Public Order Division, she had seen common jails packed with petty thieves. At the time, she’d been baffled by how they endured such cramped quarters, but now she realized that having a cellmate to argue with would be a luxury compared to this solitude.
There was, of course, a person on the other side of the wall she was currently using for her handstand, but she had no desire to speak with them.
Her only strategy was to work her muscles into failure so she could collapse into sleep. Roy had offered to smuggle in better meals since the prison fare was wretched, but in this moment, she craved a book—something she rarely bothered with in her normal life—more than any delicacy.
Time dragged on. The rhythmic thud of boots signaled the changing of the guard, but a different sound accompanied it this time. It was a light, metallic clink. It lacked the weight of a sword or even a dirk. Just as she was trying to identify the noise, the heavy door creaked on its hinges.
Adi blinked, her perspective still flipped. Spencer Grimaldi stepped into the cell, his face twisting into a look of confusion. Clearly, he hadn’t anticipated finding her upside down.
Slowly, she brought her feet back to the stones. She stood, brushed the dust from her palms, and faced him directly.
“Spencer Grimaldi.”
His jaw set firmly as he marched toward her. His expression made it clear he had reached his limit with her, as if he were finally stepping in after showing too much restraint. Without a word, he swung his hand at her face. Adi remained composed, tracking the movement and swaying out of reach before the blow could land.
A heavy, awkward silence followed. Neither seemed willing to break the tension. Eventually, Adi decided to speak, wanting to end the stalemate.
“I am no longer your ward,” she said coolly. “There is no reason for me to endure your strikes anymore.”
She realized immediately that hitting a child was wrong regardless of their status, but she didn’t bother correcting herself. Spencer took a step back, his eyes boring into her. He seemed irritated by her lack of deference.
“It’s just as I thought,” he sneered. “You are the one who should have been lost.”
If he intended to wound her, he had technically succeeded, but Adi refused to show it. Giving him a reaction would only be a surrender. She let the silence hang for a moment before responding.
“I fail to see why you’ve come here just to lash out.”
Lost, she thought. He meant she should have perished instead of Adrian.
“You are the reason Grimaldi has fallen,” he spat.
“That failure belongs to you, not me,” Adi countered. He was a man who lived to deflect blame, ignoring that his own path had led them here. “We are in this position because you made one catastrophic error after another.”
She stared him down.
“If you had been truthful about Adrian’s death from the start, none of this would be happening.”
Furthermore, his recent choices defied logic. Attempting to assassinate the Duke in that manner was a tactical disaster. The charge of treason involving a body double was a direct consequence of his own stupidity.
Her own involvement in such a scheme had been born of a desire to protect someone she cared for. The situation had spiraled into this strange confrontation, which was likely equally unpleasant for both of them.
“No,” Spencer said, his voice low. “Your role in destroying the family was written long ago.”
“If you only came here to recite nonsense, you should leave. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“Adrina Grimaldi.”
The name felt heavy. She was used to being called Adrina, but the weight of the Grimaldi name, now synonymous with ruin, felt foreign.
“I truly should have explained why you were referred to as a curse,” Spencer stated. Adi’s brow furrowed. “That is my sole regret.”
He lingered for a second, staring at her, before rapping his knuckles against the wooden door. He had either run out of insults or simply couldn’t stand her presence a moment longer. The small observation window slid open, and the jailer looked in. Seeing the distance between them, the guard reached through the opening.
Spencer dropped a single Black silver coin into the man’s palm.
Adi realized then what the metallic clinking had been. It wasn’t a weapon; it was the sound of a bribe.
As the door swung open to let him out, Adi called after him. “Is that all you have to say? You traveled all this way just for that?”
Spencer didn’t reply. He simply looked at her one last time, his features frozen and unreadable. He remained motionless until the jailer nudged him, citing that his time was up. Finally, he turned and walked away.
Adi watched him disappear, his cryptic words echoing in her mind. A reason why she was a curse?
“What was he talking about?” she whispered to the empty room.
*
Though the legal profession was ancient, Adi had never actually met a lawyer. Her life as a palace knight had never required one. If she had to take a life, it was always in service to the crown, which provided its own sort of legal protection.
“How are you settling in?”
Two men stood before her. One was the lawyer, a man she didn’t know, and the other was Joel.
“A cell isn’t meant to be pleasant,” Adi said. “But the boredom is suffocating, and the food is nearly inedible.”
“A prisoner isn’t usually in a position to be a critic,” the lawyer remarked. His tone was dry, and Adi felt a flash of irritation. Perhaps her patience was simply frayed from the isolation.
“His Excellency has given instructions to provide whatever you require,” the lawyer continued.
“Even while I’m locked up?”
“Yes. Legally speaking, once your status as a Guard is restored, these charges will evaporate.”
The trial was expected to be brief, especially with a witness now in custody. There would be no need for appeals or lengthy proceedings. It was a straightforward case for the lawyer, provided the witness played their part.
The Duke had assured her that the witness was handled.
“Are you finding this double life enjoyable?” the lawyer asked.
“Not in the slightest.”
“It is, however, quite a fascinating predicament.”
It was strange how something so fundamentally simple had become so incredibly tangled.
“I’ll arrange for some decent meals and a few books to be sent in,” the lawyer promised. “You won’t be residing here much longer, anyway.”
He glanced at Joel, who reached into his tunic and produced a folded piece of paper. It was larger than a scrap but smaller than a formal missive.
“His Excellency sent this for you,” Joel said, handing it over.
Adi took the paper. She realized this was the first time she had ever seen Yuls’s personal handwriting—a message written specifically for her.
Her expression softened as she looked at the script. Joel noted the change, wondering if he should mention to Yuls how much the gesture seemed to mean to her.
“Now then, Guard Adrina Grimaldi,” the lawyer intervened. “We need to coordinate our accounts of the events.”