Chapter 56
The King’s aversion to the Grimaldi line went deeper than mere political friction. It wasn’t just their habit of challenging his decrees that kept them at a distance; it was a fundamental lack of trust. Despite their outward displays of fealty to the crown, the King viewed them as a threat—a family capable of turning on him in a heartbeat. The most dangerous part was that, in their own minds, such a betrayal would be framed as an act of absolute righteousness.
This was the core of the problem. They operated under the conviction that their maneuvers were justified by a higher purpose, always claiming their actions were for the ultimate benefit of the monarchy.
“I cannot speak to the specific wishes of the Crown Prince,” Yuls remarked.
He continued smoothly, “My decision to let Sir Adrian Grimaldi remain at my quarters was a simple courtesy. He mentioned a desire to see the Count while he was visiting Pallesa Palace, and I granted him the time. As you may have heard, Your Majesty, my knight possesses a deep, perhaps even excessive, devotion to his kin.”
The statement was a complete fabrication. Far from being close, the siblings appeared to share a relationship defined by coldness and distance. Yuls knew the King wouldn’t be fooled for a second, but it served as a functional, polite fiction.
“Besides, do I not have some claim to this residence? I may be a Duke, but my veins carry the same royal blood as yours.”
“Fine,” the King replied dismissively. “Do as you wish.”
“What possible ulterior motive could I have?” Yuls asked.
The King didn’t bother to answer. It was common knowledge that whatever Yuls was scheming, it posed no immediate threat to the throne. Claude was well aware of this reality as well.
“Let us move to the heart of the matter,” the King said, rising from his seat and walking down the dais. Once they stood on equal footing, the King noted with a start that the Duke was significantly taller than he appeared from the height of the throne. The previous Duke had never possessed such a towering stature.
“Tell me, my subject,” the King began, his mind perhaps wandering to the legacy of the Blood of the Witch. “What exactly is my son’s current aim?”
Yuls lowered his eyes, waiting for the rest of the question.
“And what game is your Marchioness Connolly playing now?”
*
Rumors of a curse haunting the Royal Family had persisted for generations, though its nature remained a mystery. People debated whether it was a tangible hex, a looming shadow, or merely a myth. Whatever it was, it bore little resemblance to the dark legends surrounding the Grimaldi name.
When Yuls exited the Audience Chamber, he found Adi waiting alone in the side room. He had expected to see other courtiers given how long his meeting had lasted, but the area was surprisingly empty of high-ranking officials. Still, the thought of Claude lingered in the back of his mind.
“Did anything happen while I was gone?” Yuls inquired.
“Nothing of consequence could happen here,” she replied.
He knew she was dodging the point. It was obvious Claude had sought her out, even if Yuls lacked a direct network of spies within these specific walls.
“We’re leaving,” Yuls said shortly.
As they moved through the halls, they passed clusters of waiting aristocrats. The head steward was currently ushering a select few into private rooms, while those of lesser standing were forced to linger in the corridors.
Even being allowed in the hallway was a sign of status; many were denied entry to the palace altogether. Those without a formal invitation from the King had to find lodging with more powerful nobles. Minor lords whose names the King had never heard—and Count Grimaldi himself—fell into this category of the overlooked.
Silence reigned between them until they reached their private quarters. Only when the doors were shut did Yuls finally speak.
“What did you and Claude discuss?”
“We merely traded pleasantries,” Adi said.
The lie was so blatant it was insulting. Yuls looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
“I don’t know what your end goal is, but he isn’t the answer. His status is far too precarious.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” she said.
“Put your faith in me instead.”
The suggestion hung in the air. Adi wondered if he was hinting at an impending coup.
“If you’re looking for a protector, I am a far more reliable choice than the prince.”
“I already depend on you quite heavily, Your Excellency…”
The words felt like ash in her mouth. In truth, she didn’t trust him at all, and she was certain Yuls was aware of her skepticism.
“Don’t bother lying to me,” he said.
He knew exactly why Adi Grimaldi stayed in his service.
“I am well aware that you don’t rely on me.”
She stayed because of a promise—a vow he had made to fulfill a single wish. While she didn’t believe Julius would ever act out of the goodness of his heart, she did trust his word. He wasn’t a man who made idle threats or empty promises.
“I’ve already told you that I am a tool at your disposal. Why haven’t you tried to use me yet?”
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” she admitted.
“You could try to win my heart,” he suggested.
Adi remained silent.
“I might be more susceptible to your charms than you think.”
To her, he seemed like a man who viewed people as disposable assets. Though she was a stranger to the intricacies of the capital’s social games, she wasn’t naive.
“I have no desire to judge your personal preferences, Your Excellency. I only ask that you extend that same courtesy to mine.”
“And what exactly do you prefer?” he asked. “What is your type?”
When she didn’t answer, he prodded, “Are you too embarrassed to say?”
“No, it isn’t that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’ve simply never given it any thought,” she confessed. “I never had the luxury of wondering who I might like or what kind of man I preferred. I always assumed my path was set—that I would simply marry whoever my family chose for me. That was the plan I had accepted.”
She had once been a dutiful daughter, but those days were over. It wasn’t just because of Lev Zid. Whatever the Count was plotting, she knew she wouldn’t survive it. Her future likely involved being rotting away in a Grimaldi tower. Escape was her only option, regardless of the cost.
“What about you, Your Excellency? What is your type?”
Yuls went quiet. He was in the same position; he had never bothered to analyze his own desires or categorize his attractions.
Until now.
“I like your type,” he said.
The statement felt less like a romantic confession and more like a grim decree. Adi stared at him, caught off guard and struggling to find a response. She fumbled for words before finally settling on a simple reply.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t expect a ‘thank you’ for that,” he muttered.
His admission carried a hidden edge. Much like a brightly colored predator in the wild, his striking red hair seemed to serve as a warning of his lethality. She knew instinctively that getting too close would be a mistake.
“My telling you this is a warning, in a way.”
“What should I be wary of?” she asked.
“Me. If you want to avoid a dark fate, stay as far away from me as you can. Men are predators—wolves, if you will.”
“There aren’t many wolves in the South, so perhaps you’ve misunderstood them,” Adi countered. “Wolves actually mate for life. In that regard, they are arguably more loyal than—”
She cut herself off, realizing she sounded like she was defending the Woodpecker line. “Forget I said anything.”
“No, please continue. You seemed quite fond of the comparison.”
“Aren’t you more of a woodpecker than a wolf, anyway?” she asked.
“Perhaps. And you are the Gray Disease.”
Adi fell silent. The name stung because it was rooted in truth. Grimaldi—or Grimaladi, as it was once known—was the ‘Gray Disease’ that had consumed the North. The name had been born from the ash of burned witches that once choked the sky, a title given to her family out of a mixture of terror and reverence.
“Yes,” she whispered.
The name had softened over the centuries, hiding its grim origins, but the history remained.
“The blight that covered the northern forests.”
They were like a plague that had turned the world to cinders. It was a legacy that invited nothing but curses.
“That was uncalled for,” Yuls said, his tone shifting. “I didn’t mean to insult you. It was a lapse in judgment.”
The Woodpecker King.
It was a title Yuls despised. When he was born with hair the color of blood instead of the royal gold of his father, the Witch had given him that name. To her, a woodpecker wasn’t just a bird; it was a symbol of something far more sinister.
Woodpeckers were violent creatures, capable of killing other birds with their powerful beaks. The red crests of the males reminded the Witch of the woman she loathed—and of her own reflection. She saw the boy only as a parasite.
A bird feeding on the Oak Forest.
A child feeding on the Witch.
She had likely hated him with the same intensity that she loved him.
“To some, your lineage is a disease,” Yuls said quietly. “But the Crown is deeply indebted to you.”
He often wondered if his life would have been different if he had been born a Dalcatir, but he was a Woodpecker through and through. He couldn’t be a prince, and he couldn’t be a Witch. He had to accept his fractured nature and move forward.
“I owe you a debt as well, Adrian.”
He wondered if twins truly shared a single soul.
“So use me. Take what is owed to you.”
If one twin died, did their burden pass to the survivor?
“But do not use Claude.”
Perhaps his destiny had never been tied to Adrina, but to the boy who was gone. The Witch was known for her cruel ironies, and she had wanted their bloodline to wither.
He couldn’t be sure of the future, but he knew his feelings for Adi were real. A tiny spark had taken root in his heart. It was small now, but he could feel it growing, threatening to turn into a wildfire that would consume him.
Part of him wanted to extinguish it, while another part longed to let it burn.
“You speak as if there is something between the Crown Prince and me,” Adi said.
“I know there is.”
He reached out and placed a hand on her head, her soft, dark curls catching between his fingers.
“Don’t have eyes and ears in this palace, remember?” he murmured. “Don’t put your money on the wrong horse, Adi.”
