Chapter 35
The Duke dismissed both Adi and Grimaldi simultaneously, suggesting the pair likely required some private time to converse as father and son. Once they stepped out, Gavin and Bert entered the room, trading meaningful looks. Though they acknowledged Adi with a brief, silent smile, neither man spoke a word.
Caution was paramount; walls often had ears. Even in the absence of obvious spies, a man as guarded as Spencer Grimaldi would never raise his voice within a residence provided by the Duke.
They crossed paths with Joel while exiting the reception area. The attendant’s eyes flickered between the two before he offered a smile, volunteering to show them to their quarters. Grimaldi waved off the gesture.
“There is no need to trouble yourself. My son is already familiar with the layout, so we can find our own way.”
“As you wish. I shall leave the guidance to Sir Adrian Grimaldi, then,” Joel replied.
Adi noted that this was the most composed and professional she had ever seen him. Usually, Joel appeared somewhat flighty or easily rattled, but today he was the picture of a disciplined servant. It was clearly a facade he maintained for the public eye.
Adi led the way to the designated suite. Servants were already stationed there, likely having received prior orders from the Duke’s personal staff.
“I will show you to the sleeping quarters,” Adi said. Grimaldi followed in silence.
The artwork hanging above the bed, which had previously concealed a passage used by a killer, had been swapped for a new piece. Adi reached for the frame, testing it with a firm tug. It remained fixed in place; the secret route had been permanently obstructed.
“What a tasteless painting,” Spencer Grimaldi remarked.
He surely knew his critique would find its way back to the Duke, though the Duke would hardly care. This was Pallesa Palace, not his personal estate. If the comment was an insult to anyone, it was aimed at the Crown rather than the Duke himself.
“The room is secure. You can relax here,” Adi assured him.
Grimaldi watched her for a long moment before finally speaking. “This is quite a surprise.”
He paced the room slightly. “I instructed you to earn his favor, but I didn’t anticipate him providing the Grimaldi family with a residence within the palace.”
The tone was sharp, a veiled inquiry into just how intimate their relationship had become. Adi had no desire for such closeness; in fact, she wished to retreat. The daily pressures were becoming an immense weight, though she kept those reflections to herself.
“Adrian.”
“Yes, My Lord?”
“You may address me as Father.”
Grimaldi stepped forward, gripping Adi’s shoulders. To an outsider, it might have looked like a father’s affectionate touch after a long separation, but the pressure was agonizing. His fingers dug in so hard she felt as though her bones might snap. He leaned in, his voice a low hiss.
“Remember, there are listeners everywhere.”
Adi looked down, signaling her understanding. Grimaldi’s hand then moved upward, twining his fingers into her wavy locks before suddenly wrenching her head back. Despite the sharp pain, Adi remained perfectly silent.
“You should probably shear this off. Does it not serve as a reminder of things best forgotten?”
“It does,” she replied.
Satisfied with her compliance, Grimaldi released her. Adi gave him exactly what he required: total, unquestioning submission. She offered no resistance, either in word or spirit.
When Spencer moved back into the sitting room, Adi followed. He claimed the sofa—the very seat the Duke usually occupied—with an air of natural authority. Adi stood before him, positioned directly in his line of sight.
“The reports say you were poisoned.”
“A minor incident.”
“Minor?”
“The killer had already fallen. I became careless.”
“Where was the wound?”
“By the ankle.”
“I see.”
That location meant the secret was safe. Even during a medical examination, her true identity wouldn’t have been exposed by a wound so low.
Grimaldi scanned the room, his eyes eventually settling on a specific cabinet near the window. Adi followed his gaze, noticing a decanter and glassware inside. She retrieved them and brought them over.
As she held out a glass, Grimaldi reached for it. She waited until he had a firm hold, knowing he would likely drop it if she let go too soon. Once it was secure, she poured the dark, translucent liquor.
“On another note,” he began, watching the liquid rise in the glass. “There are peculiar rumors circulating.”
He took a sip, acting as though he owned the suite. His gray eyes caught the dim light, shimmering with a cold intensity.
“People are whispering about a significant connection between you and the Duke.”
Adi met his scrutiny with a mask of indifference. “The rumors are baseless. It is merely a result of my assignment as his personal night watch.”
“And you expect me to believe Bert Dean simply stepped aside?” Grimaldi muttered to himself that a man like that wouldn’t yield so easily. He leveled a disapproving stare at her.
“Have I failed in some way?” Adi asked.
“Not yet,” Grimaldi said, clinking the glass onto the marble tabletop. “But stay alert. The upcoming festival will likely be the catalyst for everything.”
Adi didn’t ask for clarification. Probing for answers was a dangerous habit when dealing with Grimaldi.
“I understand.”
“Your response?”
“I understand, Father,” she corrected.
Grimaldi clicked his tongue, his brow furrowed. In their youth, the true Adrian had been frail and small, bearing a striking resemblance to Adrina. But the person standing before him now had matured into a capable figure.
Compared to the son rotting in a grave, this version looked like a far more impressive young man. Since his memories of the real Adrian were fading, the illusion was almost perfect.
Yet, a nagging instinct told him he was looking at a woman. Despite her lack of feminine mannerisms and her convincing performance as a knight, the feeling persisted. It soured his temper to see Adrina instead of Adrian. Perhaps it was the length of her hair or her slight frame.
“It is a pity you didn’t grow taller,” he remarked.
Adi was of average height for the region, though small by Northern standards. It wasn’t enough to blow her cover, especially given her deep voice and the rough, calculated persona she adopted around palace officials. She was confident in her disguise. She was Adi, after all.
Her height, however, was a fixed variable. There was no point in promising to grow more. As she stood in silence, a soft knock echoed through the room.
Grimaldi looked toward the door, and Adi moved to open it. Standing there was a knight she recognized immediately, though he wasn’t one of the Duke’s men.
“Lev Zid,” Adi said, her expression tightening. She hadn’t expected him to be here.
Lev gave her a dismissive glance before walking past her toward Grimaldi.
“His Excellency the Duke has requested Sir Adrian Grimaldi’s presence.”
“Did he send an attendant?” Grimaldi asked.
“Yes, he is waiting in the hall.”
Spencer considered this. Adi wondered if he would have kept her longer if the Duke’s man hadn’t been right outside. Their dynamic was a test of endurance, and Adi knew she possessed far more patience than her father.
“Leave us,” Spencer commanded.
Adi bowed and turned to go. Lev Zid blocked her path, refusing to budge. She deliberately shouldered past him, but stopped when Spencer called her name one last time.
“Adrian.”
“Yes, Father?”
“Write to the Countess. She is distressed and waiting for news.”
Adi knew the truth. The Countess wasn’t waiting for a letter from her daughter. She wanted a sign of life from the son she had lost. No matter how perfectly Adi mimicked Adrian’s handwriting or his gentle tone, it was a hollow lie. The woman was essentially writing to a ghost every day; she didn’t truly want a reply from the void.
Knowing the letter would likely never be sent, Adi exited the room quickly. The door remained ajar behind her.
“Sir.”
“Joel,” Adi said, her tension easing slightly at the sight of him.
“The Duke is expecting you.”
Joel glanced toward the open door as it began to swing shut. Even as the heavy wood clicked into place, his eyes remained fixed on the room they had just left.
Once they were alone in the corridor, Joel reached out and gently patted Adi’s shoulder. When she looked at him in confusion, he began to straighten her hair with a sympathetic touch.
“Your hair is quite lovely, though it’s become a bit tangled,” he murmured.
Adi realized he was trying to offer comfort, having witnessed or sensed the cruelty of the man inside. But comfort wasn’t what she was looking for. She realized then that Grimaldi’s suspicions were correct.
“I’m alright,” she said.
The Duke’s people had been eavesdropping on every word.
