Chapter 43
The orchestra’s melodies surged, swallowing the murmurs around the dining table. Similarly, the hushed exchanges between the knights positioned against the stone walls remained out of earshot for the diners. This was common knowledge, yet a heavy silence persisted among them.
A steady procession of servants emerged, bearing course after course. The spread was excessive for a trio, featuring both shared platters and individual sets tailored to specific tastes. It was evident that someone had meticulously researched their culinary preferences. Beneath the rhythmic layers of the music, the metallic ring of silverware and the low hum of voices merged into a singular background noise.
“It has become quite difficult to catch a glimpse of you.”
Lev’s voice carried clearly to his immediate neighbor, shielded from the main table by the musical swell. He had finally decided to break the tension. Adi’s brow furrowed in a sharp scowl.
They were not alone in their vigil; the Crown Prince’s personal protector stood right beside them. Every syllable uttered would likely find its way back to the royal. This meant any response had to be carefully filtered and stripped of sensitive details.
The superior strategy, however, was simpler.
“Adrian.”
“Be quiet. I have nothing to say to you.”
Refusing to engage was the only way to ensure safety. Adi had no desire for this interaction.
“Your coldness won’t stop what is coming,” Lev remarked. “The plan remains in motion.”
Adi wished the man would simply fall silent. Why discuss such matters within earshot of the Crown Prince’s man? Lev wasn’t a fool; he had to know the risks. This provocation was calculated.
Perhaps Lev was merely seizing a rare moment of proximity, knowing Adi had been avoiding him. Regardless of the motive, it was an intrusion Adi despised.
“In the end, the Count will follow through on his initial decree.”
“You can’t be certain of that, Lev.”
The retort was biting. Adi’s long-standing dislike for the man had curdled into genuine hatred ever since the Count had unveiled his scheme.
“Lev.”
“I am listening.”
“I understand you are scheduled to face my friend in a duel?”
“A friend…” Lev repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism.
The implication was clear: Lev doubted someone like Adi could possess such a thing. In their homeland, Adrina had been a pariah, a cursed soul whom no one would dare call a companion. But things were different here.
While true friendship was still a luxury, Roy was a different matter entirely.
“How deep does this bond go?”
“He is the only friend I have.”
“I was under the impression that I held that title.”
“Were we ever friends?”
“We were,” Lev replied smoothly. “And our connection will soon evolve into something else.”
Adi remained silent. The nearby guard watched them with a flicker of curiosity, perhaps speculating on the nature of their history. To a stranger, they might look like a typical noble and a devoted subordinate from the Zid family.
Yet, poisoned by the knowledge of how the Count intended to exploit him, Adi viewed every glance as an insult. He loathed being the subject of such scrutiny and hated the bitterness of his own thoughts even more.
When Adi offered no further words, Lev pressed on.
“True talent is scarce in this place.”
“That is an incredibly arrogant thing to suggest.”
“The fame of Pallesa is a relic,” Lev countered. “Ionad has surpassed it in every metric.”
The Crown Prince’s guard gave a subtle nod of agreement, revealing his own origins. Though Adi had never served as a page within Pallesa’s walls, his loyalty instinctively leaned toward the central palace over the capital.
“Though, naturally, Ionad is a destination you will never reach.”
“Pallesa suits me perfectly, Lev.”
“Pallesa is a ghost story. It has rotted away.”
“Is that your assessment? We shall see if your duel reflects that.”
“They claim Illich is the finest blade Pallesa has to offer,” Lev said dismissively. “I have already bested him.”
He was referring to the prodigy who lacked ambition. Illich had always seemed bored by the very concept of combat. Adi felt that if he possessed the wealth to command anyone, he would choose a man like Illich—someone who had climbed to the top through sheer merit despite his background.
“The past does not dictate the present. People grow.”
“Most do not,” Lev argued. “They stagnate. Time rarely grants excellence to those who lack the spark.”
“…I would hope that comment wasn’t aimed at me.”
“That was not my intent, Adrian.”
“Do not use that name.”
A wave of physical revulsion washed over Adi. It was strange; when the Count or others used the name, he could stomach it. But coming from Lev, it felt like a violation. The disgust was rooted in the knowledge of exactly how Lev perceived him.
“You will fail to grasp what you desire,” Adi whispered.
Eyes often carry more weight than blades. Adi felt an overwhelming urge to flee from Lev’s unwavering stare.
“Do you honestly believe you know what I want?”
“I know it perfectly.”
But the time wasn’t right.
“Which is why you will lose,” Adi said. “You lack the fortitude to even embrace the curse.”
“…That curse has been broken.”
Adi let out a sharp, mocking laugh and finally turned to meet Lev’s eyes.
It appeared that even a supposed genius like Lev Zid was haunted by the shadows of Grimaldi. Every soul from that northern land lived in terror of the dark legacy, usually masking their fear with performative contempt.
Lev had been no different.
At least, not in the years gone by.
“Is that what you tell yourself?”
In truth, Lev had merely been an expert at pretending.
“Lev Zid.”
He had played his part to climb the ladder.
“That is the reason you failed.”
The Zid family always chose the path of highest utility. Lev’s mother had served as a maid, and his father had been a butcher of witches. Lev himself had feigned a lack of fear just to stay close to Adi—and to burrow into the heart of the Grimaldi power structure.
Adrina, he had called her once. A memory from a shared childhood.
“Back then, you were there.”
He had been at Adrian’s side for every training session and every ride.
“You should have stayed with Adi instead of rushing to Ionad.”
“You speak as if I am the one who took his life.”
In the end, Adrian was gone, and a symbolic grave had been dug for Adrina. Only Lev had walked away from that wreckage unscathed.
“You are the one who ended Adrian, Adrian.”
“I won’t deny it. The blood is on my hands.”
Adi accepted the weight of it. Adrian’s demise was his own doing.
“But you are no different.”
Adi didn’t strictly blame Lev; he simply found him loathsome. The genesis of the Twin Curse was inextricably linked to Lev’s presence.
Perhaps it was just a desperate need for a scapegoat, and Lev was the most convenient target. Regardless, Adrina could never find a path to forgiveness.
“I could be the one to kill you, Lev.”
“If you ever ascend to the Count’s seat, perhaps.”
Both men knew that was an impossibility. Lev’s habit of masking cold calculation with a veneer of kindness was the hallmark of a Grimaldi native.
Adi’s quiet snicker coincided perfectly with the sudden cessation of the music.
His face went pale. The timing made it seem as though his laughter had caused the silence, but a glance at the table showed Claude raising a hand for attention.
“Julius.”
The Crown Prince’s voice cut through the air.
“What do you need, Claude?”
“I require the services of your guard for a moment.”
The request left the room puzzled. Only Claude seemed to find the situation entertaining, his gaze drifting over the men standing by the wall.
Yuls took a slow sip of water before responding.
“It sounds as though your own protectors are lacking.”
“They are perfectly capable,” Claude replied. “They simply lack the aesthetic appeal of yours.”
He spoke of them as if they were mere ornaments. In the awkward lull that followed, the only sound was the scrape of a knife. Count Grimaldi was focused entirely on his meal, his expression unreadable as he dissected a piece of meat. He seemed completely unbothered that his son was being discussed like a piece of property.
Yuls let out a short laugh.
“True. Mine is quite a sight. A very pretty thing, indeed.”
“Yes. A thing many would desire.”
“They can desire all they like. He belongs to me.”
“Nothing lasts forever,” Claude countered. “He was mine before he was yours. I was the one who granted him his knighthood.”
The claim was a lie. He hadn’t even looked at Adi until the arrival at Pallesa.
“I am merely asking for a loan. I will return him in an hour.”
Yuls looked toward Adi, his face as blank as the Count’s. Then he looked back at the older man. The Count was eating with an appetite that seemed at odds with the tension in the room.
“Very well.”
It might have been a performance.
“One hour exactly.”
Adi wondered what either of them was truly plotting.
“See that he is back by then.”
If Yuls were to ask what occurred during that hour, Adi wasn’t sure he would even tell him the truth.
He couldn’t be certain of anything anymore.
