Chapter 23
The rhythm of the days had become a blur of repetition. Adi remained in deep slumber until the sun began to dip, eventually rising to freshen up and share a meal with Roy. Her body felt heavy, a lingering consequence of oversleeping, and the complete inversion of her natural internal clock left her feeling strangely out of step with the world.
Duke Yuls Woodpecker was once again buried in documents. It was evident he intended to push through his workload deep into the night before seeking rest. This evening, the inkstand sat securely upon a tray, appearing far more stable than it had previously.
Adi took her post near the window, a vantage point that offered the best tactical advantage for a protector. From here, she could monitor the door for arrivals while simultaneously guarding against any intrusion from the exterior.
The room was swallowed by a dense, heavy stillness that stood in stark contrast to the distant echoes of the palace. The only sound was the rhythmic rasp of paper being turned, until the Duke finally broke the silence.
“How are you finding your time here?”
Adi shifted her gaze to him. A massive landscape hung behind the Duke’s seated figure. It was a peculiar choice for a man of his station; typically, the aristocracy avoided such scenery. They favored art that screamed of their own importance—grand, idealized portraits designed to broadcast their noble bloodline and status.
She recalled hearing that these natural vistas were currently all the rage among the wealthy merchant class. It was a rare reversal of the usual order; normally, the merchants mimicked the high-born, but this specific trend had somehow managed to captivate the nobility.
Essentially, the Duke was simply keeping up with the latest fashion.
When Adi failed to answer immediately, her eyes lingering on the canvas, the Duke seemingly mistook her silence for scrutiny of his person. “Well?” he prompted again.
“Life within Pallesa Palace is unremarkable,” she replied. “Though I will say the nights in the Outer Palace are far more tranquil than they are in this wing.”
“Is this your first assignment within the Inner Palace?”
“It is. Unless one belongs to the 1st or 2nd Knights Order, there is almost no occasion to set foot here.”
“You served in the 3rd, correct? I find that curious. You certainly don’t lack the talent or the presence for a higher posting.”
“The reason is simple: I was not raised as a page here in Pallesa.”
“An outsider, then,” he mused. “And who was it that dubbed you a knight?”
“The Crown Prince himself.”
The name caused Yuls to fall silent. While such details were undoubtedly in the background reports he commissioned, he clearly hadn’t studied them with much care. In the modern era, the identity of the person who granted the title mattered less than the master a knight currently served.
The old, rigid codes of chivalry might have dictated otherwise, but those traditions had faded for most. There were exceptions, of course—men like Grimaldi.
Spencer Grimaldi had pledged his life to the royal who knighted him, eventually securing that man’s place upon the throne.
And Adi Grimaldi was the daughter of that very man.
“…Have you actually spoken with the Crown Prince?”
“I have never laid eyes on him.”
Yuls looked perplexed, his expression demanding to know how such a thing was possible. Adi offered more detail.
“Count Grimaldi was the one who brought me the blade and the title. I was quite sickly during that time. One could call it a deception… or perhaps an act of grace.”
Yuls started to speak, catching the word she had nearly used. She had corrected herself to ‘grace,’ but ‘deception’ had slipped out first. Regardless of the circumstances, most knights held a profound sense of debt toward the source of their status. Having a high-ranking benefactor was a point of pride, but even without status, the bond was usually one of deep loyalty to the person who first validated their worth.
Adi’s perspective was jarringly different.
“Is it wise to speak of such things so openly?”
“The facts are common knowledge. There is no point in trying to mask how I obtained my rank.”
“Do you feel no shame as a member of the order?”
The question escaped him before he could check it. Yuls immediately regretted the bluntness of the inquiry. Adi watched him for a long moment before responding. “I…”
“I don’t possess any knightly honor.”
“…”
“I am simply an instrument that follows orders.”
“You make yourself sound like a mindless doll.”
“The comparison is accurate enough.”
Yuls found himself at a loss. For the first time, he felt he was looking at something utterly incomprehensible. She lacked the pride of her station and was the kin of his greatest adversary, yet she was precisely the kind of subordinate he valued most.
“Why not remain in my service permanently?”
He wondered if he could simply win her over. Roy had suggested her family ties were strained, despite the flow of affectionate letters—particularly those from the Countess—that suggested a desperate closeness.
“I appreciate your hospitality; I am quite comfortable,” she said.
“…I don’t recall being particularly hospitable.”
“The accommodations are pleasant.”
“I see.”
It was clear she had missed his point entirely. He had asked her to stay for good, and she had responded as if he were asking for a review of her guest quarters. She wouldn’t be easy to manipulate, and keeping a Grimaldi close was a gamble. Yet, if she bore any other name, she would be his ideal knight. He decided he had time; perhaps a long period of observation was the best course.
Yuls looked back down, leafing through his papers.
“I look forward to your continued service next year.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve grown fond of you, Sir Knight. You are far more compliant with my requests than your predecessors were.”
Adi tried to recall his various demands. There had been many, and while a more difficult person might have found them grating, she found them easy enough to satisfy as long as the core duties were met.
“Furthermore,” he added, “you don’t smell.”
Adi had no defense for that particular observation. Most knights, drenched in the sweat of daily drills, did carry a certain odor.
However, those assigned to escort duty were typically more fastidious. Guarding the high nobility required a level of grooming that sometimes involved powders or scents. It was a matter of fragrance rather than stench.
As Adi remained quiet, Yuls looked up once more. He studied her face.
“You look as though you want to say something.”
“I do not.”
“Speak your mind anyway.”
His persistence suggested he wouldn’t be an easy master to please. After a brief pause, Adi spoke.
“I was told you travel here annually.”
“Is it so strange for a noble to visit Pallesa Palace? The King turned the grounds over to the aristocracy. Anyone wishing for a retreat is welcome to use it.”
It was a factual statement. After the court moved to Ionad, the King had offered Pallesa as a free resort for the nobles. Of course, since the King collected their taxes anyway, ‘free’ was a relative term.
“He only lets them stay here because he doesn’t want to pay for the upkeep himself,” Yuls muttered, tossing his documents onto the bed. He looked at her then, appearing ready to truly engage in the conversation. “It’s a playground for those who neglect their own lands, or for social climbers who have no real home to speak of.”
He paused, a wry look on his face. “And I am counted among them.”
The self-deprecation was absurd. The master of the Woodpecker Duchy was a titan among the peerage, the King’s own nephew, and a man with a legitimate claim to the crown. His own holdings were more magnificent than the palace itself. He couldn’t be compared to a common social climber.
“If you must serve a scoundrel,” he continued.
Adi watched him carefully.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to stick with the one you already know?”
His expression was an enigma.
Adi was used to faces that were easy to read. Usually, they were filled with varying shades of disdain or hatred directed at her. She was an expert at identifying ill will.
But the Duke’s face was different. She couldn’t find the words for it.
It was an emotion that seemed to bypass her understanding entirely.
“If that is what Your Grace desires,” she said.
“Never mind what I want. I was asking for your preference.”
“As to whether I would be of any true use to you…”
She trailed off, her voice dying away.
Yuls wondered if he was being rejected. But then, Adi’s hand blurred toward her hip. The Duke recoiled at the sudden motion.
Despite his own training, he knew he was no match for a knight of her caliber in a sudden fray. He had assumed that if she ever turned on him, it would be a calculated move, not a sudden outburst in the middle of a conversation. Panicked, Yuls shoved his hand beneath his pillow.
He found no weapon there.
“Your Grace.”
Adi lunged toward the bed.
“What are you doing?”
The Duke tried to maintain his dignity, even as he realized she had seen him reach for a nonexistent blade. Adi didn’t take a defensive stance; instead, a faint smile touched her lips.
“Forgive my lack of ceremony.”
She unsheathed her dagger. Yuls roared for his attendant, “Gavin!” Adi vaulted onto the mattress, her blade raised high. The bedroom door crashed open at that exact moment.
“Your Grace!”
“Sir Knight!”
Adi’s dagger didn’t find the Duke. It buried itself deep into the landscape painting hanging above the headboard.
The blade tore through the image of the lush woods. As the canvas ripped, a spray of dark, red blood erupted from the wound in the wall.
