Translator: Nox

Chapter 58

“I couldn’t tell you. The order didn’t come from me; the Count was the one who came up with that plan.”

Claude recalled how the Count had insisted on managing the situation personally. At the time, Claude had simply told him to proceed as he saw fit. Back then, the stakes hadn’t seemed high enough for him to care about the details.

“Though it seems Adrian is currently in the process of double-crossing the Count.”

“Are you truly comfortable sharing such sensitive information so casually?”

“Like I mentioned, you aren’t driven by ambition.”

“And you don’t possess a shred of trust.”

“I don’t really have a reason to cultivate trust,” Claude remarked. “In my position, shouldn’t the burden of earning favor lie with everyone else?”

It was a remarkably haughty perspective, the kind found only in those born to rule from the heights. Yuls didn’t bother to challenge the statement. In truth, he operated under the exact same philosophy.

“What is the Count’s motive for trying to drag Adi back to Grimaldi?”

“You’re aware of that as well? You certainly have informants tucked into every corner.”

Despite not living at Pallesa Palace, Yuls had managed to buy enough loyalty to ensure no secret remained hidden from him.

“I’m in the dark on that one,” Claude admitted, sinking back into the cushions of the sofa. “It just seemed to become the plan once I put in a request for her.”

Down at the practice fields, it appeared a victor had been decided. Roy Gallardo’s blade flashed in a horizontal arc just below Lev’s arm, a lethal strike held back by a mere sliver of space. It was a silent threat; one more inch of momentum would have split the man in half.

Recognizing the finality of the move, Lev Zid hesitated and then retreated. With a look of pure bitterness, Lev fished a white cloth from his pocket and tossed it down.

“The match is yours.”

Oddly, it was the winner, Roy Gallardo, who was currently flat on his back. Whether from the sheer intensity of the bout or simple exhaustion, Roy lay there with his chest heaving, thrusting a triumphant fist toward the sky.

The palace guards moved in to check on Roy, but Adi remained still. She stood on the sidelines with her arms folded, observing the scene with a detached air. Yuls glanced toward the Count, whose eyes were locked onto Adi with singular focus. Roy also turned his head toward her, reaching out a hand, and only then did Adi finally step onto the dirt of the arena.

“Would you be willing to part with Gallardo?”

“If he chooses to serve you, I won’t stand in the way.”

“Ah, a man of the South,” Claude noted. He was well aware of the Southern temperament—they were famously devoted to their kin and harbored a deep-seated resentment for the crown. “I suppose he’s out of my reach then.”

Claude sounded genuinely disappointed.

“However, Sir Adrian Grimaldi is a different story. He’s a Northerner through and through, and he aligns much more closely with my interests.”

He turned his gaze back to Adi. Standing there in her pristine white attire amidst the dark-clad crowd, she looked like a solitary white bird surrounded by a murder of crows.

Another crow stood right beside her. Claude’s eyes sparkled with the predatory hunger of a bird spotting a rare gem.

“That one belongs with me.”

*

The heavy book launched by the Count struck her square in the head. The weight of the hardcover was evident by the dull thud it made upon hitting the floor. Red droplets sprayed across the cover. Adi stared at the blood on the ground, her expression unreadable, before slowly meeting the Count’s eyes.

The next second, a sharp blow from the Count’s palm sent her head reeling. Before she could recover, another strike landed from the opposite side. The only sound in the room was the Count’s ragged, furious breathing.

Exhaling a pent-up breath, the Count ripped off his neckcloth and threw it aside. He took a sword from Lev, keeping it sheathed, and began to rain blows down on Adi. The rhythmic sound of the scabbard hitting flesh filled the space. She tensed her muscles to absorb the force, but the damage to her body was unavoidable.

The sensation was a strange mix of the familiar and the new. It brought back memories of her earliest sword training, where she had been beaten bloody by wooden practice blades. Back then, she hadn’t known how to protect herself. Now, she possessed the skill to evade him, but she stayed still. She was well aware that defending herself would only invite a more brutal retaliation.

Disgusted by her silence and the fact that she hadn’t made a sound, the Count drove the end of the sheath into her stomach. The wind was knocked out of her instantly. Even with the leather protection she wore beneath her clothes, the sheer power of the thrust was agonizing.

Nausea surged in her throat. Fighting the urge to retch, Adi crumbled to the floor, pulling her limbs inward. The heavy scabbard continued to fall against her back and shoulders. Despite the sickening thuds, she didn’t cry out or even moan. It was Lev, watching from the side, whose face twisted in discomfort at the violence.

Finally, the Count tossed the weapon aside and ran a hand through his hair, his breath coming in sharp gasps. Having vented some of his rage, he looked down at the huddled figure on the floor and scoffed. He reached down, grabbed a handful of Adi’s hair, and yanked her upward.

“Do you have any concept of what you’ve done?”

She understood perfectly. It was easy to understand an outcome she had engineered herself. A faint, involuntary smile touched her lips, causing the Count’s face to contort further. He realized then that this was no accident. Yet, he didn’t look betrayed. You had to trust someone to feel betrayal, and the Count had never trusted her.

“This is exactly why—”

She anticipated the rest of the sentence. It was a tired refrain. But the Count went quiet, perhaps remembering they weren’t alone or considering the weight of the moment.

“You stand there with that look, having no idea of the mess you’ve made.”

Adi met his gaze without speaking. Her calm wasn’t born of ignorance; she knew the risks better than anyone. To the Count, her composure was a sign of madness. He couldn’t conceive of someone knowingly choosing this path.

“Eliminate Roy Gallardo.”

The order was cold. For the first time, Adi’s mask slipped.

“If he cannot be brought to Grimaldi, he is a liability. You created this disaster; you will be the one to end it.”

“Is his death the only alternative to Grimaldi?”

“Roy Gallardo? In our lands?”

The Count let out a sharp, mocking bark of laughter. Adi’s brow furrowed. The sound of his laugh was a haunting echo of her own.

“Try to speak sense for once.”

The similarity was chilling.

“Do you have any inkling of the history between our house and the Gallardos?”

The very traits she loathed in him were the ones she saw reflected in herself.

“No wonder you two seem to be such fast friends.”

Spencer’s voice was full of derision, treating her like a child who didn’t understand the gravity of her surroundings.

“My son.”

Adrian.

“Don’t be a fool. Don’t let a Gallardo play you for a pawn.”

She felt a wave of relief that her brother wasn’t the one standing here.

“They are only looking for ways to bleed you dry.”

At least her own body could withstand the abuse.

“To hand over our techniques to them… I gave you credit for being intelligent, but you’re just a simpleton.”

When the Count finally released his grip on her hair, her head fell forward. He stood up abruptly and raised the scabbard once more. Adi braced herself, curving her spine to protect her vitals. Taking the blow on her back was the only logical choice. The weapon whistled through the air before slamming into her.

“Count, please, that’s enough…”

Even Lev Zid felt compelled to intervene, but his voice was drowned out by a sudden ruckus in the hall. A heavy boom echoed, followed by the frantic shouts of guards trying to bar someone’s entry. Then came the unmistakable crash of something breaking.

The Count went still, turning toward the door. Lev did the same. A moment later, the doors were forced open despite a servant’s desperate pleas for the visitor to stop.

Bert and Roy stood in the doorway. Their initial shock was quickly masked by professional stoicism. Standing just behind them was Yuls.

Yuls scanned the room, his face a mask of iron, though a thin, strained smile eventually appeared.

“Count.”

His eyes went straight to Adi. Her hair was dark, but the copper sheen in certain places told him it was soaked with blood. Her lip was torn, and her face was a map of rising welts and bruises. He could almost feel the heat of the inflammation from across the room. If this was what he could see, he feared what was hidden beneath her uniform.

But the thing that truly set his blood on fire was—

“My knight.”

Adi’s face remained entirely blank.

“He missed the start of his watch.”

She looked resigned, as if this level of brutality was simply a routine part of her life.

“I was informed he was here.”

Fury boiled within Yuls. The pressure in his chest felt like it might explode into a torrent of rage and accusations. He had to fight every instinct to keep from screaming at the Count.

“I’ll be taking him now.”

Adi looked up at Yuls, her light brown eyes flickering with uncertainty. She looked like someone who had never been defended before, someone for whom the idea of an escape was entirely foreign.

Yuls squeezed his hands into fists, his nails cutting into his palms.

Just what kind of life have you been forced to lead?

The walk back was conducted in a heavy, stifling quiet. The corridor felt endless, the thick rugs dampening the sound of their footsteps until the silence was absolute.

When they reached the residence, the senior staff were already gathered. They kept stealing glances at Adi’s battered face. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Adi looked away. In her experience, being the center of attention usually preceded pain. Wanting to disappear, she spoke up. “I’ll head out now.”

Yuls was stunned by the remark; it was the last thing he expected her to say. “Go where?”

Adi looked at him, confused. She wondered if she had lost track of the hours while with the Count. She went to check her pocket watch, but it was missing.

Yuls suddenly understood. She was trying to leave because her scheduled shift had ended.

God, this is unbelievable…

“Adrian.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

Yuls reached out his hand. When Adi only stared at it with a blank expression, he prompted her. “Take it.”

She wondered if it was a formal command, but she reached out anyway. Yuls wrapped his fingers around her hand. Adi stared down at where they were joined. His hand felt much larger and warmer than she had imagined.

“Bert, you’re done for the day. Roy, I expect you early tomorrow.”

With a soft pull, he guided Adi along. He wasn’t using any real strength. The warmth of his skin against hers felt alien and unsettling, making her palms grow damp.

“Joel, come with us.”