Chapter 40
The Woodpecker King.
Adi had once assumed the moniker was a simple acknowledgment of his massive southern holdings and his proximity to the throne. She figured the royal court’s silence on the matter was merely a courtesy extended to a powerful relative.
She had been far too naive. Even within the same household, noble siblings often tore each other apart over titles and prestige. Adi realized now that her warm relationship with her own brother was an outlier, not the rule.
Besides, the lordship of Grimaldi was never something she expected to inherit upon Adrian’s passing. She suspected her brother had felt the same; he was a sickly boy who likely knew his years were numbered.
Neither of them had ever lived up to the Count’s expectations. Had a sudden tragedy not claimed their father, he probably would have discarded them both in favor of a more suitable protégé—someone who actually shared his temperament.
But those were useless “what-ifs.” In the end, she was the sole survivor.
Adi began listing names in her journal to organize her thoughts.
There was Claude, whose surname was undoubtedly Dalkatir, though his middle names remained a mystery.
Then there were the primary players: Julius Woodpecker and Spencer Grimaldi. Looming over them was a King whose face she had never even seen. She wondered if she was witnessing a lingering spark from a previous generation’s war for the crown. What had caused the rift between Spencer Grimaldi and the sovereign?
If she ever managed to gain the King’s ear, she doubted it would change her fate. He had no reason to shield her from the Count; she offered him no leverage.
Even the Crown Prince, despite his current rapport with Spencer, would prioritize the Count’s political utility over her life if forced to choose.
The Duke of Woodpecker was the only outlier. He was clearly at odds with the Grimaldi line. While he didn’t seem to view her as an adversary—given that he was housing her—he was the only one of the three who actually required her presence.
It all came back to the curse.
She decided it didn’t matter where she had to kiss him, be it his hand or his mouth. If it allowed her to remain under his protection for even a short while, she would do it.
Adi toyed with her curls, lost in thought.
It was wiser to grow her hair out and pin it up rather than keep it short. If the time came to flee, a feminine appearance would serve as the perfect disguise. No one would connect a lady in flight with a fallen knight.
The idea of presenting as a woman felt foreign to her, though. No matter how she pictured it, the role didn’t seem to fit.
“Step one,” she whispered to the empty room, “is securing the Duke’s favor.”
The path to his good graces was obvious: lift the hex. She remained skeptical that she was the true catalyst for his moments of clarity, but if the Duke believed she was, she would lean into that delusion.
Adi drew a heavy circle around the Duke’s name.
*
“You’ve arrived early.”
Adi inclined her head in respect. She had encountered Yuls in the hallway, flanked by Bert and his chief chamberlain. The chamberlain moved to open a nearby door; it appeared the Duke was preparing for bed. Since her own belongings had likely been sent back to the northern estate, she was still stuck in the oversized garments provided to her.
As the Duke began unfastening his coat, the chamberlain stepped in to assist. His physique was lean and powerfully built, a fact that baffled Adi. He spent his days in relative idleness, yet he possessed the body of a man who trained relentlessly.
“Wait for me in the bedroom, Adi.”
The command didn’t raise any eyebrows among the staff, and Adi had grown used to it herself. She stood by the window in his chambers, watching the moonlight and wondering what was taking him so long. He had likely stayed behind to discuss matters too sensitive for her ears.
She needed to find a way into that inner circle.
Earning their confidence was essential, yet she had to be careful not to reveal her desperation. Roy had a legitimate place at the Duke’s side, but she was an outsider—someone more likely to be branded a double agent than a confidant.
Her only saving grace was the Duke’s current fixation on her. But how long would that last if the curse remained unbroken? He had spent thirteen years hunting for a cure. He wasn’t looking for a “possibility”; he wanted results.
“Adrian.”
If she failed to deliver, he would eventually find her expendable.
“I am here, Your Excellency.”
“Come closer.”
She stepped toward him. Despite his height, his face retained a youthful quality that made it impossible to believe he was twenty-six.
“It is time for your duties.”
To the world, she was his guard, but in this room, her “duty” was reduced to a ritualistic kiss on the back of his hand.
In her mind, the Duke and the Count were two sides of the same coin. One would use her until she was broken and then toss her to a man like Lev; the other demanded intimacy every night. The only difference was that the Duke seemed like someone she could actually negotiate with.
Adi took his hand and pressed her lips to his skin, watching his expression. He looked annoyed. Nothing had changed. They both knew the ritual had failed again.
“I was hoping to have a beard by morning,” he muttered.
“The way you look now is quite becoming, Your Excellency.”
“I didn’t take you for a flatterer.”
Adi remained silent. It wasn’t flattery; it was a distraction. She had a different plan for this evening and couldn’t understand why he misinterpreted her words.
“Break this spell quickly, Adi.”
“That is… a difficult request.”
“It has to be you,” Yuls insisted, his voice hardening. “That is the only reason I tolerate the scandalous talk surrounding us.”
Adi suppressed the urge to point out that he was the one fueling the rumors. She was the one who had to deal with the fallout, though she wouldn’t have minded the gossip if Spencer Grimaldi hadn’t arrived.
With the Count on the grounds, those rumors became dangerous. Both Spencer and Lev Zid would be watching her every move, looking for a weakness.
Yuls moved to the edge of the bed and sat down, stretching his neck to ease the tension. He looked up, catching her eye. In the dim light, Adi’s pale brown eyes took on a golden, predatory sheen. She looked nothing like the Count in that moment.
Adi crossed the room and stood between his knees as he sat. Yuls looked up at her, confused. Usually, he was the one who felt looming and powerful, but from this angle, she seemed to hold the upper hand. Before he could react, she reached out and cradled his face in her palms.
It was a vulnerable position. Had she been holding a blade, she could have ended him in a heartbeat. Yuls considered pushing her away, but he found himself paralyzed as she leaned in. Her lips brushed against his forehead before she pulled back.
The sensation left him reeling. Being kissed without his consent by someone smaller and younger was a jarring experience. It was one thing when he was the one in control, but this role reversal felt alien.
“I’ve decided to try different locations,” she explained calmly. “Perhaps the curse must be dismantled piece by piece, one spot at a time.”
He wondered if she was finally taking her task seriously. Her sudden proactivity was a welcome change, but the timing was suspicious. Why now, immediately after the Count’s arrival? If he voiced his doubts, however, he knew she would only retreat.
“The lips were a failure,” he noted.
“Perhaps the lips are the final key,” she countered.
“At this rate, you’ll be kissing my feet.”
“I will do so if you order it.”
“You are a knight, not a servant,” he snapped. Only those in total subjugation kissed feet. While some lords enjoyed that level of debasement, Yuls found the idea repulsive. If he allowed such a thing, it might reignite the very feudal brutalities he wished to leave behind.
Yuls climbed under the covers. “You heard the news, I assume? Claude is hosting a gathering for the Count and myself shortly. You will be my escort. I understand Lev Zid will be acting as the Count’s shadow.”
He checked her face for a reaction, but she was a mask of indifference.
“I’ve commissioned appropriate attire for the event. See Joel in the morning to collect it.”
“As you wish.”
She didn’t argue, even though her standard uniform was perfectly acceptable. He found himself eager to see if the new clothes would crack her stoic exterior tomorrow. Sometimes, it felt as if Adi Grimaldi had no heart at all.
“If you succeed in breaking the curse,” Yuls added, “I will grant you any wish you desire, no questions asked.”
A spark of life finally hit her eyes. She wasn’t a statue after all.
“…Even if the cure comes from someone else?”
“You have very little confidence in yourself.”
It wasn’t a lack of confidence; it was logic. The legend stated the curse would break for a lover. There was no love between them. She briefly wondered if the Duke’s true soulmate had been her twin brother.
The thought made her pause.
“I need to return to my proper age,” the Duke sighed.
Adi watched him. She was masquerading as Adrian, but she knew her true self was still tucked away. If the Duke’s destiny was tied to her…
“Once that happens,” he continued, his voice heavy with a weight that didn’t match his youthful face, “I can finally be the Duke I was meant to be.”
It sounded less like a hope and more like a grim vow.
Adi realized this man was carrying a history she didn’t yet understand. That didn’t mean she would stop manipulating him for her own survival, nor did she feel any real pity.
She felt a sudden, sharp pang of self-loathing. No matter how much she despised her father, the Grimaldi blood was clearly there. She was just as calculating as Spencer.
