Chapter 44
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Yuls had rejected the Crown Prince’s offer of a formal guard. After he collected the blade belonging to Adi, he departed alongside the Count. His demeanor implied that such a gesture was unnecessary since they shared a residence, yet I suspected a hidden motive beneath the surface. It was difficult to pinpoint; his intentions remained frustratingly opaque.
Claude displayed a similar ambiguity. In the flickering, low light, his golden hair took on a muddy, shadowed hue. He wore a playful grin that felt entirely out of step with the typical gravity expected of the Royal Family. There was a flippancy to him, an air of casual disregard that made Duke Woodpecker appear far more regal by comparison.
A warrior stood sentinel beside the Crown Prince now, a change from his earlier solitary wandering. Claude acted as though the man were merely part of the furniture, closing the distance to Adi until he could murmur directly against her ear.
“It was quite a struggle to act as though we were strangers.”
He pulled back, a smirk dancing on his lips.
“A public greeting would have been more appropriate,” Adi countered. “After all, Your Highness is the one who officially granted me my rank.”
“True. That slipped my mind.”
He paused, then added with a sharp edge, “Of course, that would require us to have actually met for the occasion.”
It was common knowledge that the honor had been bestowed through Count Grimaldi rather than in person. However, hearing him admit to the farce so bluntly in front of a third party was startling. Adi glanced toward the silent knight, but he remained perfectly still, feigning total ignorance of their conversation.
The friction between the prince and his guard was palpable.
It went beyond mere dislike; the atmosphere was thick with a heavy, stifling awkwardness.
“By the way.”
Claude’s gaze dropped to Adi’s waist, his expression souring. He was staring at the lone dagger, roughly the size of a forearm, tucked into her loosened belt.
No one had missed the moment she surrendered her longsword to the Duke. Claude’s eyes snapped back up to hers, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss. “The audacity.”
“Is it standard practice for a knight to simply hand over their steel to whoever asks?”
“For the time being, I serve Duke Woodpecker.”
“Temporarily, perhaps. But your primary allegiance belongs to me. I am the source of your title. Yet, you handed my sword to Yuls.”
“That weapon was issued by the armory at Pallesa Palace.”
“And what of the blade I personally gifted you?”
“It remains within the Grimaldi borders. It is far too valuable to carry lightly.”
I had never laid eyes on such a weapon; it was intended for Adrian, after all. I could only assume Spencer Grimaldi kept it under lock and key. Claude maintained a silent, heavy stare before finally speaking again.
“I suppose I shall have to provide you with a replacement soon.”
With that, Claude turned on his heel. The knight followed in his shadow, and Adi trailed behind them at a respectful distance.
While the Duke’s quarters were luxurious, the Crown Prince’s wing was an exercise in staggering excess. Statues and intricate carvings lined even the most deserted hallways, which branched off into a labyrinth of paths. Servants seemed to know his every move, as massive double doors swung wide exactly as he approached.
After a trek through the sprawling complex, the final set of doors opened. This drawing room stood in stark contrast to the Duke’s; heavy, dark drapes were drawn tight across the windows, choking out the sun.
Only thin slivers of light suggested it was day. Had it been winter, with thick velvet blocking the glass, one would have lost all sense of time.
The knight took his post by the window as if by instinct. Claude marched to the center of the room and threw himself onto a sofa, the impact heavy and dull. The vigor he had displayed in the halls vanished instantly, leaving him looking hollowed out.
A head chamberlain emerged from the shadows of the wall, offering a pipe already packed with tobacco. A spark danced on the servant’s fingertips to light it—a mage. The Royal Family’s status was truly unrivaled if they could use someone gifted with magic for such menial tasks.
Claude inhaled deeply, several times, before releasing a thick cloud of grey smoke.
He caught Adi watching him and let out a dry, mocking huff.
“Care for a smoke?”
“I will pass, Your Highness.”
“Do you mistake my words for a mere suggestion?”
“……”
His posture was one of total, weary entitlement.
“If it is a decree, then I shall.”
The scent suggested this wasn’t standard leaf. The chamberlain took the pipe from the prince’s limp hand—Claude looked dazed as he exhaled—and moved to Adi. She took the pipe, drew a shallow breath, and immediately forced the smoke back out.
Claude chuckled at the sight of the billowing cloud, then reached for a glass of water provided by the servant. The logic of drinking water immediately after smoking escaped me. The pipe was returned to the prince’s hand.
“You’ve turned out much more sophisticated than I envisioned,” Claude remarked. “I assumed you would be attractive, but this is an unexpected development.”
He continued, “I saw your childhood portrait. You were charming enough that I specifically requested you.”
“Not you, of course—your brother. Assuming the curse wasn’t a factor. There was no reason for me to invite a blight onto my own reputation, was there?”
The prince laughed at his own words, but the room remained cold. The tension between the servant, the guard, and the prince was a physical thing. It was nothing like the dynamic around Duke Woodpecker. I struggled to find the right word for the feeling in the room.
“Come to Ionad.”
It felt like fear.
“Do you have a use for me there?”
“Use isn’t the word. I simply wish to possess you.”
“I gave instructions to Count Grimaldi to deliver you to the capital, yet he deposited you at Pallesa Palace instead. I wonder about his motives.”
The pieces weren’t falling into place as Adi had expected. She had assumed Spencer Grimaldi was trying to mend bridges with the Crown Prince after falling out with the King. But ignoring a direct order from the prince suggested he didn’t view Claude as a viable alternative just yet.
Was he attempting to crawl back into the King’s good graces? Had that failed, forcing him to pivot back to the prince? Perhaps a secret bargain had led to her presence at Pallesa Palace.
Spencer’s orders had been clear: wait at the palace for further instructions. What was his end game?
“I apologize, Your Highness, for my inability to grasp these complexities.”
Whatever the truth was.
“The Count.”
The only goal was to break free from his control.
“He is currently playing me against Woodpecker.”
Claude blew another plume of smoke, his eyes searching hers for any sign of deceit. Adi was being perfectly honest—she was entirely in the dark—but she couldn’t be sure if he believed her.
“Does your father doubt my fitness for the crown?”
“I am not privy to the Count’s inner thoughts.”
Claude studied her face, finding only a mask of unwavering devotion. Her true feelings didn’t matter as long as the facade held.
Still, a thought occurred to her. Could this friction be exploited? If Spencer intended for her to be a bridge to Ionad, and if he planned to use the prince to achieve his goals…
“Does Your Highness harbor doubts about your own succession?”
Perhaps there was a way to wedge herself into the cracks of their alliance.
The question caught Claude off guard. His eyes widened before he broke into a genuine fit of laughter.
“Me?”
He sank deeper into the cushions, staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes. There was no reading him now. Slowly, he spoke.
“No, the throne will be mine. It is simply…”
If Adi were honest, she found the prince repulsive.
“My father is consumed by avarice, and he has the constitution of a man who will live forever.”
That was a reality Spencer Grimaldi would never tolerate.
“He expects me to take the crown when I am a withered old man. I find that prospect unacceptable.”
Spencer would undoubtedly manipulate the prince and then discard him. If not that, he would orchestrate a coup, just as he had done to install the current monarch.
“I suggested he retire a bit early. He viewed that as sedition and is now intent on my destruction.”
And then, Spencer would seize the reins himself, ensuring he held a tighter grip than the current King ever did.
“The King lacks any other legitimate heirs at the moment.”
I couldn’t be certain, yet I felt instinctively that my father was capable of such a scheme.
“Wait, there is one.”
If I were in his position, that is exactly how I would have approached the prince.
“A girl.”
The blood of a Grimaldi was a persistent thing.
“She just reached fifteen.”
I was my father’s daughter, after all.
“If he crowns her, he could rule as Regent until his last breath. Assuming the girl survives that long and the court can stomach a female ruler.”
Claude looked Adi dead in the eye. The room was thick with a suffocating haze, and a dull ache began to throb in her temples. They were letting him rot in this room.
“Do you also find it offensive that I might want my inheritance a little sooner?”
“New wine requires new skins.”
Or perhaps his state was intentional. A broken prince is a manageable one.
“Regardless, Ionad is beyond my reach. I do not choose my own station.”
“And what if I simply command it?”
Claude made a lazy motion with his hand. The chamberlain, reading the silent cue, brought forward a chalice.
“I only need to declare my favor. You are serving as Woodpecker’s guard, but you are my knight, are you not?”
A dark, heavy liquid was poured into the glass.
“The one I personally elevated.”
The spirit was the color of dark resin, clinging to the sides of the glass as it swirled.
Claude lifted his drink. Adi raised hers, the liquid shimmering in the dim light.
“Then I shall expect to see you in Ionad once the festivities conclude.”
Claude drained his glass. Adi mirrored the movement, bringing the rim to her lips, but she did not let a single drop pass them.
