Ch#170
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The previous seventy-two hours had been a grueling ordeal for Yuls. He had attempted to stomach the wait by focusing on their scheduled reunion on the fourth day, but a series of obstacles seemed determined to thwart him.
Protocol had barred him from seeing the Chief Justice, who was reportedly traveling from Ionad, while the local magistrate from Pallesa Palace lacked the authority to do anything beyond shifting the court dates. To make matters worse, Count Grimaldi was behaving with a suspicious ambiguity that defied analysis, and most frustratingly…
“You have arrived on time, Your Excellency.”
Claude was making a transparent effort to avoid any direct interaction with Yuls.
The timing was disastrous. With autumn being the most demanding season for land management, his lack of physical presence at his estate was a significant burden. Although his staff traveled back and forth to deliver reports, the distance made it impossible to replicate the efficiency of personal council with his subordinates. This accumulation of stress left Yuls in a foul mood. He was rarely a man of easy temperament, but the current circumstances had pushed his patience to a razor’s edge.
“This feels like an unexpected blessing.”
Yet, the moment Adi offered him a smile…
“I’ve longed to see you.”
…the heavy weight of his irritation seemed to evaporate instantly.
Adrina reached out, taking his hand and leaning her face against it.
Yuls felt a sudden, fierce desire to abandon the legal proceedings entirely and spirit her away to his lands. If not the main estate, then at least his city townhouse—anywhere but this place. He envisioned her in a lavishly appointed suite on a soft mattress, rather than confined within these cramped, windowless walls of sweating stone.
“……”
The very concept of this trial felt absurd to him. Had he handled the matter privately within his own borders, it could have been erased from history without a whisper. Unfortunately, the presence of the Ionad knights—sent to collect Macauliffe—had complicated everything. He hadn’t intended for them to witness the fallout, yet his own planning had backfired. In hindsight, since the man had already been labeled missing, Yuls realized he should have simply ended his life and been done with it.
Adi placed her palm over his. She appeared slightly more gaunt, the strain of her confinement clearly taking a toll. The sight sent a pang of guilt through him. As he traced the lines of her fingers, he whispered, “Your skin has become coarse.”
He wondered if he should have bribed the guards more heavily. To think she was being kept in such a pathetic cell… even for a noble prison, this was beneath dignity. While Yuls masked a boiling resentment beneath a stoic mask, Adi merely shrugged it off.
“They have always been this way, Your Excellency.”
He couldn’t argue with that. He recalled how she habitually wore gloves with her formal attire to hide them. In truth, Yuls admired the strength in her hands and the hard-earned calluses they bore.
“Indeed. These are the hands of a warrior.”
He pressed a lingering kiss to her palm, earning a faint, genuine smile from her. His resolve to liberate her doubled; she didn’t belong in this squalor for another second. He took some small comfort in the fact that the hearing was set for the following morning. “Try not to let this weigh on you,” he urged.
“I am not worried,” she replied.
She hadn’t expected Spencer Grimaldi to be so cooperative.
“It’s odd, but I feel quite calm. I have a sense that the outcome will be favorable.”
Adrina wasn’t typically one to follow her gut feelings, but she felt a strange lack of dread. Her legal counsel’s bizarrely relaxed demeanor was confusing, yet she felt certain of a positive resolution.
“However…”
She wondered if Yuls was aware of the recent developments.
“His Highness Claude paid a visit to Lev a few days back.”
She watched his face closely as she shared the news.
“And the Count came to see me here.”
A sharp, knowing smirk touched Yuls’s mouth.
He was aware of Claude’s meeting with Lev, but the Count’s visit to the prison was news to him. Not a single report had mentioned it. ‘Bribe money,’ he realized. He understood now why Adi had mentioned the guards earlier. The Count had moved in the shadows, paying for silence to secure a private audience.
“What was the nature of his visit?”
Yuls prompted. Adi took a moment to gather her thoughts.
“He alluded to a specific reason behind the curse I was supposedly marked with.”
The comment had bothered her immediately after he left, but the exact wording had grown fuzzy over the last few days. Nevertheless, it suggested a hidden depth—a Grimaldi family mystery she had been kept in the dark about, much like the secret of that toxic fruit.
“I see.”
Yuls’s tone made it clear he intended to investigate. He was equally baffled by the family’s treatment of her. Still, that was a problem for another day.
In this moment, he simply craved her proximity. This brief, supervised contact was agonizing. Seeing her look so at ease—her usual guard completely dropped in his presence—made him want to hold her close and never let go. Perhaps the prison setting was a blessing in disguise; had they been alone elsewhere, he might have lost his restraint.
Yuls was rhythmically tapping his fingers against her shoulder, a habit born of restlessness, and Adi was about to ask what was bothering him when a sharp rap came from the door.
“Time is up.”
The guard swung the door open, revealing Dimitri standing in the hallway. Yuls’s grip on her shoulder tightened instinctively. The sudden pressure was firm but not painful. When she looked up at him, he averted his eyes toward the exit. “I will see you at the hearing,” he said. When she didn’t immediately respond, he looked back down at her.
The flickering candlelight made it hard to tell, but her cheeks seemed to hold an unusual color.
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
As his hand began to pull away, Adi briefly caught his fingers in a silent gesture of solidarity before letting go. Neither of them wanted the moment to end.
Yuls stepped out but hesitated for a long beat in the corridor before finally forcing himself to walk toward the exit.
He had heard that prisoners were forced to navigate the bowels of the facility through cramped, low tunnels to disorient them. Paths so narrow they had to crawl. However, officials and guests used a different, more dignified route. Even so, he kept his thoughts to himself; the walls here had too many ears.
Once they were back in the carriage and the door was sealed, Yuls looked at his companion. “Dimitri.”
“Are you familiar with any legends regarding a Grimaldi curse? Anything at all?”
“There are whispers, naturally, but the specifics are guarded zealously by the main line. I have no concrete details,” Dimitri admitted. He paused, then added, “Though there is one thing.”
“The Grimaldi family has always maintained a pathological obsession with the idea that twins signify the downfall of their house.”
Yuls scowled. It was a lead, but not a solution. Spencer Grimaldi held the keys to the truth, and he wasn’t about to hand them over. But what about his wife?
“Go to the Grimaldi residence and arrange a meeting with the Countess.”
“The Countess, sir?”
Yuls nodded.
“I need clarity on what this all means.”
The courtroom was a tomb of silent, polished white stone. The Chief Justice sat at the elevated bench, flanked by the presiding judge and the court clerk. Though the King was in residence at Pallesa Palace, he was conspicuously absent. This trial evidently didn’t warrant royal attention.
Below the Chief Justice and his Gavel, rows of aristocrats sat in hushed observation.
Adi walked through the center aisle, the weight of a hundred stares pressing against her. She recognized many of them: Yuls, Claude, Marchioness Connolly, and Lea were all in attendance. The collective atmosphere was one of cold judgment.
To them, this was the story of a commoner trying to kill a nobleman. Despite her knighthood, they viewed her as fundamentally inferior to Lev, who held the birthright of the elite.
A brief, knowing grin touched Adi’s face before she smoothed it into a mask of professional neutrality. Her lawyer, standing nearby, looked like he was attending a funeral. He finally understood why the Duke had been so insistent that his fiancée maintain a stern expression. That smile of hers suggested she was playing a different game entirely.
Adi stood at the designated mark in the center of the hall.
“We convene today to adjudicate the charges of assault and attempted homicide of a social superior within the Woodpecker lands. The accused, Adrina Dean, faces counts of Defamation, Assault, Insubordination against the Crown, and the Attempted Murder of Lev Zid. This court will examine all evidence and hear all testimony before the assembled witnesses. By royal decree, we shall proceed with fairness and speed.”
The Chief Justice struck his Gavel once, the sound echoing sharply.
“The Registrar will present the formal charges. The Defense may then begin.”
The room was filled with the Chief Justice’s booming authority.
Adi watched as the official stood. Every head in the gallery turned. While the charges had been summarized, the detailed reading was grueling. It was clear the nobility cared less about the violence and more about the breach of the social order. Whispers of outrage followed every mention of ‘insubordination’ and ‘defamation.’
Finally, the defense attorney rose.
“Honorable Justices and esteemed guests. This entire prosecution is built upon a false premise. My client’s actions were a necessary and immediate defense of her sovereign, Duke Woodpecker, against an attack by Sir Lev Zid. While injuries were sustained, they were the result of a reactive, unplanned defense in the face of a direct threat. Furthermore…”
The lawyer produced a set of documents, matching the ones already placed before the judges.
“The charge of High Treason is predicated on the idea that a commoner violated the hierarchy by attacking a noble. However, while the defendant is currently unranked, she is, in fact, the biological daughter of a Count. This grants her a status that actually exceeds that of the victim, Sir Lev Zid.”
The room fell into a stunned, heavy silence. A higher rank? If she were a high-born lady, she should have been a fixture of the social seasons, yet she had only appeared recently in Ionad, and without any proper backing.
“The crux of this trial isn’t an act of treason, but a case of mistaken identity. The prosecution only exists because they believe a commoner dared to strike an aristocrat.”
The gallery buzzed with speculation. Was she a secret heir? A bastard? From which house?
“If her bloodline is superior to the victim’s, the legal standing for these specific charges vanishes.”
The audience was rapt. The lawyer, enjoying the dramatic tension, allowed a small smile to play on his lips. “To clarify this matter, I wish to call a vital witness.” The Chief Justice gave a curt nod. Every eye followed the lawyer as he prepared to reveal his mystery guest. He paused for effect before speaking the name that would change everything.
“The defense calls Count Spencer Grimaldi to the stand.”
The announcement caused a wave of shock to roll through the room. From among the observers, a man stood up.
While the gallery murmured in confusion, the lawyer watched calmly as Spencer Grimaldi walked down to the witness box. Once the Count was seated, the lawyer turned back to the bench.
“This witness holds the key to the defendant’s true heritage.”
His voice was clear and full of certainty. The Chief Justice looked toward Spencer, as did the lawyer.
“Count Grimaldi,” the lawyer began.
“Can you confirm that Adrina Dean is a biological member of your noble house?”
The Count looked at Adrina, standing alone in the center of the room. He then slowly turned his head, surveying the sea of expectant faces in the gallery, and let out a dry, mocking laugh.
“No,” the Count replied.