Chapter 55
The territory of Grimaldi was a place defined by the relentless wind. Frigid gusts swept down from the peaks, gliding across the land like skaters on ice. Adrian once explained the phenomenon as the weight of frozen air yielding to the pull of gravity.
When the gales rose, the foliage erupted in a collective rustle. The clatter of conifer needles created a sound that mimicked a sudden downpour, yet it was a deceptive noise—the sharp, sweeping rhythm of a parched wind that only suggested moisture without providing it. The sound filling the air right now was hauntingly similar.
It was the roar of cascading water and the friction of needles.
However, the primary distinction here was the reality of the dampness.
Unlike the arid, fire-prone expanses of Grimaldi, the rustling leaves of Pallesa Palace didn’t just imitate rain. The sound was singular and unmistakable.
It was actually raining.
Duke Woodpecker moved to answer the King’s summons. Adi trailed behind him, observing the Duke’s impeccable appearance, which had been curated by the palace attendants for this specific meeting.
As they traversed the corridors, the weight of public scrutiny was palpable. While the onlookers focused primarily on the Duke, their curiosity spilled over onto Adi as she followed in his wake. The Duke maintained a stride of complete indifference, moving with the ease of a man who had long ago ceased to notice the staring crowds.
Fragmented conversations regarding the Duke drifted toward her. People whispered about his physical growth and speculated whether the infamous curse had finally been broken.
If the words reached Adi, they certainly reached the Duke’s ears as well. He simply gave no sign of hearing them. It was possible he truly didn’t care.
Outside the Audience Chamber within the Inner Palace, a group of aristocrats had already gathered. Their arrival time was irrelevant; in this setting, rank dictated the order of events. The King’s head chamberlain caught sight of Yuls and offered a succinct bow. Yuls acknowledged him with a brief greeting, addressing him as “Count.”
The official escorted Yuls into a private waiting area. The room was furnished with luxurious seating and guarded by an escort knight—one of Claude’s men. It wasn’t hard to deduce who was currently speaking with the Sovereign.
Yuls took a seat with natural grace, crossing his long legs. Adi took up a position beside Claude’s knight, leaning her back against the stone wall.
A heavy silence fell over the room, though it wasn’t truly quiet. The persistent rhythm of the rain provided a backdrop, with droplets streaking across the glass panes and leaving watery trails behind.
Eventually, the door swung open to admit a chamberlain. He bowed low, announcing, “Your Excellency, Duke Woodpecker.” As Yuls stood, Claude emerged from the audience room.
The Crown Prince wore a stern expression, his brow furrowed, but his face transformed into a smile the moment he noticed Adi waiting there.
“His Majesty is ready for you,” Claude remarked.
Yuls brushed past him, casting a sharp look at the Prince. Claude registered the glance but remained unbothered. Once the door clicked shut, Claude opened his arms in a wide, welcoming gesture.
“My lovely girl.”
“Your Highness,” Adi responded.
He looked as though he intended to pull her into an embrace, but as he drew closer, he let his hands drop to his sides.
“Are your bags packed for the departure from Pallesa Palace?”
Adi shook her head, realizing the Count hadn’t shared the latest news.
“My father informed me that he is taking me back to Grimaldi.”
“He said what?”
Claude’s features turned stony. He looked genuinely blindsided by the revelation. After a moment, he smoothed his expression, though his voice betrayed his skepticism. “The Count actually told you that?” It was clear the two men had some sort of arrangement, though the specifics remained a mystery to her.
“He really is pushing it now…”
Adi considered for a moment if she should provoke him further.
“I’ll handle that situation,” he added before she could speak.
It seemed testing him was unnecessary. It was obvious now that the Count and the Crown Prince were not true allies. Their relationship was a fragile thing—a temporary alignment of interests rather than a shared journey.
“By the way, Adrian.”
She was certain this alliance would crumble soon.
“That would mean you’re turning your back on the Count. You’re prepared for that?”
Adi didn’t offer a verbal reply; she simply gave him a faint, knowing smile. Claude tilted his head as he watched her. He had previously thought they shared no family traits, but that specific smile was a perfect mirror of the Count’s. Blood always told in the end.
“I see you’re more than comfortable with it,” he noted.
The irony wasn’t lost on her—that she only resembled her father when she looked like a traitor.
“Expect to hear from me shortly,” Claude said, tapping her shoulder lightly as he prepared to leave. Adi caught the scent of crushed green grass clinging to him.
“Let’s dismantle the old guard together, shall we?”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
She watched him go, knowing he was a man who could never be trusted.
*
“The reports were hard to credit until this moment,” the King remarked the second Yuls stepped into the chamber.
“Your Majesty.”
“You bear no resemblance to my brother.”
The King sat upon his raised throne, resting his chin in his palm. He scrutinized Yuls as he approached. “You are the living image of that Witch.”
Though they had last met only a year prior, the King seemed to have aged a decade in that short span. He chuckled as he looked down at the young man who had finally assumed a mature, commanding presence.
“If it weren’t for her, you would likely be the one sitting on this throne right now.”
“You are referring to the late Duke,” Yuls corrected.
“A seat that was never intended for me to begin with,” the King mused, his tone suggesting he was hunting for a specific reaction.
“Is that not so, nephew?”
“Perhaps.”
Yuls knew the man before him was consumed by a greed deeper than anyone else’s. That ambition was the reason he wore the crown, and the reason Yuls’s father was rotting in the earth.
“He was a man who never craved such power anyway,” Yuls added.
“That is merely your interpretation.”
“And the idea that my father lusted after your throne is merely yours, Your Majesty.”
“If he didn’t, he should have disregarded the oaths and the loyalty of the nobility.”
“You are well aware of his indecisive nature,” Yuls countered. “It was why he secreted away the woman he truly loved and installed a Duchess of the previous King’s choosing. Had he acted differently, the Witch of the Oak Forest might have ended the Royal Family’s curse long ago.”
“I suppose you’re right. It was a blunder,” the King admitted. Had the curse been lifted, the dynasty wouldn’t have lived in perpetual dread of a sudden strike. They might have dismissed the curse as a myth entirely—if they hadn’t witnessed its effects firsthand.
“Still, it cannot be as gruesome as the blight on Belipeera. At least our affliction was granted by a being with a soul, wasn’t it?”
“Beings with souls are precisely the ones who cannot be relied upon,” Yuls said.
There was truth in that. Such entities were as fickle as humans. They wove spells over petty slights and allowed them to be broken through the most bizarre requirements. Because the consequences of their whims were so unpredictable, mortals simply labeled them ‘curses.’
“Tell me, Duke, how did you manage to break yours?”
“My situation differed from the royal curse. Mine was a direct inheritance from my mother.”
“The remedies are usually cut from the same cloth.”
“Is that so? In that case, I imagine you simply need to find a true love and share a kiss,” Yuls said dryly.
The King fell silent. Witches were notorious for their sentimentality, always attaching such absurd conditions to their magic. A lover’s kiss. It was clear the King had no desire to divulge his own progress.
“A loved one… I see.”
It was understandable. After spending more than ten years searching for a cure, the King wasn’t about to hand over his secrets.
“On another note, I heard you’ve taken to keeping a member of the Escort Knight Division close at hand.”
“I believe you heard about a Grimaldi, not just any knight.”
Yuls emphasized the surname pointedly.
“Adrian Grimaldi.”
The name belonged to the child of Spencer Grimaldi—the northern guardian who had secured the King’s throne but remained a man who would never be his friend.
“I saw the boy once when he was small. He had an air of total innocence. I was shocked Spencer could produce such a child.”
The King remembered him as a radiant little boy with eyes like polished amber. They were a warm contrast to the Count’s frozen gaze, leaving a lasting mark on the King’s memory.
The boy had been prone to bright smiles. While the royal children were born with faces weary of the world, that northern child had spent his time picking wildflowers and weeds to present to his sister. At the time, the King had wondered how the Count would ever mold such a gentle soul into a hardened border lord.
“Actually, the sister was the one who caught my eye,” the King continued. She shared her brother’s face, but her eyes were all Spencer’s. She had looked like a wild thing, her tattered clothes and unkempt hair whipping in the northern winds.
The girl had glowered at the King like a cornered predator, yet she had softened instantly when her brother offered her those flowers. He had realized then that neither child seemed to truly belong to Count Grimaldi.
“Sir Adrian is also quite a sight these days,” Yuls remarked.
“Really? Did his sister’s passing change him that much?” the King asked. Even so, he doubted those innocent eyes could truly vanish. He wouldn’t be surprised if the boy still decorated his hilt with blossoms.
“So, are you and the Grimaldi boy in love?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You can drop the act, Yuls.”
“You may interpret it however you wish.”
“I want to see him. I’m curious to see what became of that radiant child.”
Yuls’s mouth tightened into a line of clear irritation. Seeing his displeasure only made the King want to provoke him more.
“You brought him with you, didn’t you? You always keep your favorite toys within reach.”
“If you command it, I will bring him in.”
“No need. He’s a Grimaldi, after all.”
The King wasn’t deaf to the whispers of his own palace. He knew the reputation of Adrian Grimaldi—the ‘Dog of Pallesa Palace.’ He found himself wondering how such a boy had earned such a title.
“Fine, let’s move on,” the King said, rubbing his chin.
“Both of them have put me in a very awkward position.”
Yuls bowed his head, knowing he was one of the two being referred to.
“One of them invited the problem in, and the other made sure they stayed.”
The other, of course, was Claude Dalkatir.
“I find myself wondering why,” the King mused, his voice laced with annoyance at the situation.
