Chapter 25
Adi had been unaware that the Duke’s living quarters claimed the entirety of the floor. Though they had shared a chamber for the sake of practicality, the sprawling level actually belonged solely to the Duke.
She had received word that her belongings would be transferred to her permanent room once morning arrived. It was of little consequence; her possessions were few, and she harbored no secrets within her bags.
“A professional killer, then.”
“Despite the fact that Adi finished him.”
Bert shifted his attention toward Adi. He appeared to be weighing the possibility that she had silenced the intruder with intent. Once the rot of distrust took hold, Adi realized that no explanation would suffice; he would interpret her actions through a lens of skepticism regardless of the truth.
In the corner, an attendant was busy sorting through the Duke’s paperwork, looking distressed as he calculated how to purge the crimson sprays from the parchment. The Duke remained in his nightclothes, perched in a seat beside the bed. He rested his jaw against his knuckles, his crossed leg bouncing with restless energy.
“The man lacked a tongue,” the Duke observed.
He continued, “Capturing him would have yielded nothing. We would never have pried the employer’s name from him.”
“I should investigate the syndicates,” Bert suggested. “Mutilating their own like that… perhaps an Eastern sect?”
“The Easterners are far more sophisticated and carry a higher price tag,” Yuls countered. “Furthermore, they avoid such obvious signatures. Cutting a tongue makes their profession too apparent. This smells like a local, low-tier guild. Assign someone capable to track the lead.”
Bert gave a sharp nod, though his wariness remained etched on his face. Suddenly, Yuls’s features twisted into a strange grimace. Following the Duke’s line of sight, Bert noticed Adrian. The young man was hauntingly white, his skin glistening with a heavy layer of perspiration.
“Adi.”
A ragged, whistling sound escaped her throat. Alarmed by her deteriorating state, Bert called out again, but she offered no reply.
“Adrian.”
Adi finally shifted her focus toward them. Both men recoiled slightly at the sight of her glazed, unfocused stare. Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before she managed to break the heavy quiet.
“…My humble apologies.”
She swallowed hard. “I suspect I have been tainted by venom.”
The agony had sharpened with every passing minute. She had been careless, assuming the initial dull ache was manageable. Though she was well aware that toxins could move with agonizing slowness—and that even minor oversights could be fatal—she had arrogantly believed herself immune to such a fate.
“With your permission… I require a moment to seek aid.”
Yuls stood frozen, watching her. She looked as though she might crumble into dust at any second, yet she spoke with formal restraint.
He harbored no love for Adrian Grimaldi, but it seemed the feeling was mutual. A normal person would have requested a physician the moment they were struck, yet she had endured the pain with a stubborn, almost foolish pride. Perhaps she assumed a minor injury didn’t warrant his concern.
Or perhaps, he wondered, such stoicism had been beaten into her from childhood.
“Where were you struck?” Yuls demanded.
“The ankle, I believe.”
“Remove the boot.”
She hesitated.
“I gave you an order. Take it off.”
Yuls rose from his seat and gestured to the attendant. The servant helped Adi into a chair. Once the leather was pulled away, it revealed a foot that was dangerously inflamed, the skin stained a sickly, bruised violet.
Her feet were surprisingly delicate. The word ‘runt’ surfaced in Yuls’s mind; he recalled hearing that the first-born of some lines were often smaller in stature. Perhaps that explained it.
“You should have reported this the instant it happened,” Yuls scolded.
“…It felt like a mere scratch,” she whispered. “A tiny prick… I didn’t think it mattered.”
Yuls made a sharp clicking sound with his tongue. If it were truly nothing, she wouldn’t be struggling to form words. Bert’s expression mirrored the Duke’s disapproval.
“Never take an assassin lightly,” Bert warned. “These are men who will use their bare teeth to finish a contract. They don’t care if they die, provided you go down with them.”
“I am sorry…”
“Sire, we require Joel’s presence.”
“Get him. It is poison.”
The attendant bowed low and sprinted from the room. Adi’s face was a mask of suffering; she gnawed on her lip to keep back the pain, yet not a single whimper escaped her.
She was formidable, Yuls realized. A quintessential Grimaldi—resilience seemed woven into her very marrow.
It wasn’t long before Joel’s voice echoed from the corridor. He burst through the entrance, gasping for air as if he had run a marathon.
“Your Grace! Are you unharmed?”
“I am fine. Adrian is the one who was hit.”
“Oh…”
A flicker of relief crossed the healer’s face. While he took no joy in injury, it was a mercy that the Duke had been spared.
“Tend to the wound,” Yuls commanded, gesturing toward Adi.
Adi squinted at the newcomer. She recognized him immediately. He was the same servant she had encountered on her arrival—the one who had provided the list of the Duke’s many grievances. He was now clutching a medicinal vial.
Joel knelt to inspect her foot. He scanned the discolored skin until he found a minute puncture, no larger than a tiny freckle.
“An assassin’s ring,” he concluded.
He began dabbing a solution over the site. “The needle was coated. It was a desperate, final strike.”
“Fitting, since the wretch is now dead,” Yuls remarked.
“Is the toxin lethal?”
“In this dosage, no. It isn’t the high-grade venom used by the Hashashin. This looks like a local brew made from common ingredients. Since we have the ring, I can isolate the components and formulate a cure.”
“The timeline?”
“Four days at the most.”
“Provide her with something for the fever and the pain,” Yuls ordered. “Spare no expense on the supplies.”
“As you wish.”
Joel wiped his hands and hurried out to gather the necessary draughts. Adi remained locked in a private struggle against the pain, her lips turning a ghostly white from the pressure of her own teeth.
“Stay with us, Adrian.”
“Adi is…”
Her voice trailed off into a faint tremor. She was whispering, but the words were unintelligible.
“I’m… truly alr…”
The sentence died in her throat as consciousness finally fled. Yuls and Bert exchanged a long, silent look of bewilderment.
“What a stubborn creature,” Yuls muttered.
“She was clearly in agony,” Bert added. “She should have asked for a bed.”
“Had she gone to rest alone, we would have found a corpse in the morning.”
Yuls stood over the unconscious figure. She looked incredibly thin and breakable. She didn’t possess the ruggedness of a Knight, yet her instincts and prowess were undeniable. He wondered how she had sensed the killer before anyone else.
“Do you still doubt him?”
“…I have my reservations,” Bert admitted, “but no one would gamble with their life this way.”
Even if she wanted to deceive them, she would have sought help earlier. Holding it in was a fool’s errand. Poisons were unpredictable; a mild dose could turn fatal under the right conditions. The fact that she had fainted proved how close she had come to the edge.
Joel returned, laden with a chest of medicines—temple sanctified oils and magi-crafted elixirs. While they wouldn’t waste the crown jewels of their collection on a mere guard, they had plenty of effective remedies.
He carefully tilted a potion into Adi’s mouth. As he worked on the swelling, Bert leaned in. “Will she recover fully?”
The deep blue staining her leg looked ominous.
“The treatment is straightforward,” Joel explained, “but the next few days will be grueling. Expect a high fever and hallucinations.”
“I’ll have to adjust the rotation with Gallardo,” Bert sighed. “Back to two men. I’m getting too old for these double shifts.” He looked at the girl with a touch of genuine concern.
“She won’t lose the limb, will she? The Grimaldi family would have our heads.”
“Nothing so drastic. This isn’t a necrotic toxin. If it were, she wouldn’t have been standing at all.”
“There are such things?”
“In the South, yes, though they are rare. If her constitution is as strong as it seems, she’ll pull through quickly.”
“That is a relief,” Bert said.
Yuls remained silent, staring down at Adi. Her features were delicate, her skin like porcelain in its paleness. It made him think of the twin sister Adrian was said to have—a girl he had never met. He couldn’t help but imagine she would look exactly like this.
He turned to the window. The midnight celebrations had finally died down. The nobility had retreated to their dreams, and the morning guard would soon be stirring.
“I’ll take the first watch,” Bert offered.
“No,” Yuls replied. “Go get some sleep, Sir. I have paperwork to finish. I’ll rest once Roy is awake.”
“Gavin. Ensure the secret entrance is secured. Tell Roy to inspect the corridor.”
“I can handle that, Sire.”
“It’s beneath your station, Bert. Let the rookie do it. Consider it Roy’s welcome to the unit.”
Bert suspected Roy’s real welcome would involve a lot more sweat once they reached Woodpecker, but he didn’t argue. He looked back at the pale figure in the chair, unsure of the next step.
“Gavin, regarding Adi Grimaldi…”
Yuls considered the options. Sending her to the common barracks was out of the question; no one would be able to monitor her breathing, and Joel couldn’t spend his nights in the knight’s quarters. Furthermore, the Grimaldi family must remain ignorant of this lapse in safety.
“Move her into the adjacent chamber,” Yuls decided, pointing to the small room connected to his own.
