Chapter 59
==================================================
Adi moved in sync with Yuls. She had assumed they were heading for the reception area, but he walked right past it. Instead, he guided her toward the private chambers. Joel hurried ahead to swing the door wide.
Once inside, Yuls directed Adi to sit upon the mattress. She attempted to rise, but he firmly gripped her shoulder to keep her in place. His hand landed directly on the flesh the Count had battered.
“Agh!”
The pained sound she had been stifling finally slipped through her teeth. Yuls froze, observing how she winced and clutched at the injury. He pulled his hand back and retreated a pace, standing in rigid silence. He had noticed the damage to her face, but it was clear now that the rest of her body was just as bruised. Looking at her slight frame, he wondered how there was even any room left to strike her.
Knights were expected to be resilient, yet they were not immune to agony. Yuls dug his nails into his own palm for a second before curling his hand into a tight fist.
“Joel, provide treatment.”
“There is no need,” Adi insisted.
“Adrian.”
The way he spoke her name left no room for argument. Still, Adi shook her head in refusal.
“If my wounds vanish by morning, it will only provoke the Count’s rage further.”
Yuls narrowed his gaze and exhaled slowly. Recognizing the grim logic in her statement, he glanced at Joel, who was waiting awkwardly nearby. He told the attendant to simply bring the salve. Joel vanished instantly to fulfill the request.
Yuls turned his attention back to her.
“Has the Count always been this brutal?”
Adi looked up at him. Seeing his expression forced a weary breath from her lungs. Her face was terribly distorted by swelling now. It seemed as though the Duke felt the phantom sting of her injuries himself; he looked as if he would have preferred to take the blows in her stead.
“No,” she replied softly. “This burden is mine to carry.”
“How so?”
“I shared the secret techniques of our house with Roy Gallardo.”
“…”
“That choice led to Lev Zid’s defeat.”
Yuls found himself speechless as he watched her smile while explaining her role in the disaster. It became clear that this had been her design from the start. She had walked into this knowing exactly how the Count would retaliate against her.
“The only power capable of toppling a Grimaldi is the sword of a Grimaldi.”
She had accepted the consequences before they even fell.
He felt a sharp sense of misalignment. Why would she do this? Every time he watched Sir Adrian Grimaldi, something felt fundamentally off. He couldn’t quite piece the puzzle together. His train of thought was interrupted when Joel returned, winded from sprinting back with the medical supplies.
“Strip,” Yuls commanded.
“I… beg your pardon?”
“You won’t allow magic,” Yuls noted, “but the medicine is necessary. Your torso was clearly targeted; you aren’t as fine as you claim.”
A simple touch on the shoulder had made her gasp. He couldn’t fathom how she had remained silent during the earlier assault. Perhaps she had a legendary threshold for pain, yet now she flinched at the slightest contact.
“I assure you, I am alright.”
Her face was a mask of suffering that made her words ring hollow.
“Stop being stubborn,” Yuls countered.
“I mean it. A quick bath will wash the pain away.”
He knew water wasn’t a panacea. Her refusal to accept help was baffling. Healers were a luxury, usually controlled by the Temple or restricted by social standing, yet he kept a mage on hand specifically for such moments.
He wondered if she harbored a secret hatred for magic, though she had never shown such signs before. As Yuls stepped closer, Adi’s fingers dug into the bedsheets. Her pale face and the defensive set of her eyes radiated a strange, vibrating tension.
Something was wrong.
“Please, Your Excellency, I am fine.”
Yuls looked her over. The inconsistencies hadn’t started today; they had been piling up like small weights for a long time. He had dismissed them before. After all, who would jump to such a wild conclusion?
But once the seed of suspicion took root, everything began to change.
Her frantic refusal to undress, a physique that was far too delicate for a knight, the high-collared Northern style he had assumed was merely cultural—it all started to bleed together. He thought of the Count’s violence, the talk of her impending death, the struggle to avoid being sent back to Grimaldi, and the desperate escape to Ionad. Then there were the wishes.
What did she truly want? Why was she hoarding those favors so carefully? It felt like she was bracing for a specific, inevitable moment.
But for what?
“Leave us, Joel.”
The attendant bowed, left the supplies on the floor, and exited the room in silence.
Yuls loomed over her.
What was the goal of Sir Adrian Grimaldi? What was the secret behind the wishes? What was so important that she had to save them for a final stand?
“You understand why the Count wants you back in the North, don’t you?”
He remembered the story of the brother who wanted to pick flowers for his sister.
Adrina Grimaldi was the one said to have the Count’s eyes. One twin was frail, the other healthy. Adrina was dead, and Adrian lived on.
The so-called dog of the palace.
“If you were to die, the implications would be…”
The theory forming in his mind felt insane, yet he couldn’t stop it. He let out a dry, disbelieving laugh. It was impossible, and yet it was the only thing that made sense.
“How did I miss this?”
He had always believed the vows of protection and the plans for escape were meant for Adrina. But the one who had been trapped in a sickbed years ago was the boy, Adrian.
A child that sickly couldn’t have transformed into a knight of the 2nd Order in such a short window. His new hypothesis fit the reality far better.
“Adi.”
The person sitting there wasn’t the man he thought he knew.
“Take it off.”
“Your Excellency…”
“Give me a reason why not. We are both men, are we not?”
The name ‘Adi’ wasn’t a nickname for Adrina. It was the name of the brother who had passed.
“Well?”
Yuls softened his expression. His voice became a gentle lure.
“Give me one valid excuse, and I will let this go.”
Adi’s mind raced for a lie, but she found nothing. No fabrication would satisfy the Duke now. She couldn’t stall any longer; he was waiting for a truth she couldn’t give.
“Yes, Your Excellency,” she whispered.
Yuls reached out and traced her cheek. The swollen skin was remarkably smooth. Even the most clean-shaven man would have some hint of grit by this hour, but her skin was flawlessly soft.
His fingers trailed down to her neck. He pulled at the fabric of her cravat, letting the shirt fall open. Her collarbone was visible, painted with a deep, sickly blue bruise.
They break so easily, he thought.
He clicked his tongue and wrapped his hand around her throat. It was slender, lacking the hard protrusion of a man’s Adam’s apple.
“My Lord?”
Her voice didn’t cause the vibration he expected beneath his palm. He touched his own throat to confirm the difference. It was night and day.
Why was I so blind?
He took her hand in his. It was tiny.
How did I not see this?
Even if she was tall for a woman, her skeletal structure was completely different. He realized he had been blinded by the reputation of the palace’s loyal dog.
Her palms were rough with work, but the proportions were wrong. Her smallest finger was far too short. It must have taken agonizing dedication to master a blade with hands like these. But he was stuck on one question.
How long had this been the case?
“Adrina.”
She had been wearing her brother’s life like a shroud.
“Adrina Grimaldi.”
Her eyes, bloodshot and crimson, began to shake. The ‘Adi’ who had promised to save the other was the brother, Adrian. The one rotting in the earth was the boy, not the girl.
He thought of the Count’s disgust at her hair and the way he had beaten her without mercy. Did the dead brother know what was happening to his sister? Her fears of dying in the North and her doubts about the succession all clicked into place.
“I see.”
Yuls took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. The contact stung her split lip, and the metallic tang of blood filled their mouths. He didn’t pull away until he had tasted it. Red hair, red eyes, and a mouth stained red.
It was the ritual to lift the hex.
“It was always you.”
But this time, the Duke’s eyes held something new. He smiled at her, his expression carrying a depth she couldn’t begin to decipher.
