Chapter 63
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The missive from Countess Grimaldi went straight into Adi’s drawer, unopened. She lacked the will to face it. Honestly, she preferred to never look at her mother’s handwriting again. Those envelopes served as a haunting reminder of the life Adrian no longer possessed. They made her feel like a ghoul, a thief who had crawled into her brother’s skin to steal his existence.
After shoving the drawer shut, Adi reached for the Knight’s Journal.
She knew the alliance between the Count and the Crown Prince wasn’t built on genuine partnership. Whatever the Count hoped to gain by tethering himself to the prince remained a mystery to her. Yet, their immediate agendas were perfectly aligned: both were adamant about denying military aid to Thuringen.
Thuringen.
Fragments of stories suggested it was a land defined by its devotion to the arts. Since she had never crossed its borders, her knowledge was limited. If an insurrection was truly brewing there, the nation would be plunging into anarchy. Refugees would be scattering, and the borders would likely see an influx of desperate foreigners.
Victory in conflict required more than just steel and soldiers; it demanded gold. No government would dream of launching a campaign without deep pockets. Naturally, where money moved, opportunists followed. Mercenary bands were the obvious suspects. It would be easy for an outsider to slip through the cracks of a country in turmoil.
If the worst came to pass and she was forced back toward Grimaldi, Thuringen offered a potential path to freedom. A single cliff stood between her and a new life. She wasn’t sure if the Count would personally track her down. Even if he dispatched agents, she felt confident in her ability to evade them. However, if the man sent after her was Lev…
She wondered if she would have the resolve to kill him.
Lev had been devoted to Adrian, loving him with the intensity of a brother. People spoke of the unbreakable bond between milk brothers, though Adi couldn’t personally relate. She hadn’t shared the nourishment of Baroness Zid’s breast.
She found herself wondering who had actually raised her.
Someone must have shown her mercy in her infancy, or she would have perished long ago. Ultimately, the identity of her savior was irrelevant. Dwelling on the past was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Survival depended on her next move.
Her options were limited to seeking sanctuary in Ionad or Woodpecker. She didn’t trust the Crown Prince, nor did she feel secure with the Duke. There was also the terrifying new complication to manage.
The Duke was aware of her true sex. He knew the name Adrian was a mask for Adrina.
“Adrina.”
She whispered the name softly. It sounded like a word from a language she no longer spoke.
Reaching up, she unfastened the cameo at her throat and began unwinding her cravat. She remembered how the Duke had gripped her neck earlier. It hadn’t felt like an assault, but rather a cold verification of a theory.
Adi wrapped her fingers around her own throat. Her palm easily spanned the width of her neck. While it was more delicate than a man’s, the difference wasn’t immediately glaring—until a sudden realization hit her.
“Ah.”
The missing piece became clear.
She lacked an Adam’s apple.
It was a detail most people ignored, especially since her cravat always shielded it from view. The moment the Duke had pulled at her collar, he was looking for that specific absence. He had already known.
She had been far too careless.
A sudden rap on the door broke her concentration. Joel entered before she could even grant permission, calling out for the “Sir.”
“I’m here,” Adi replied, her fingers flying as she hurriedly re-secured her cravat.
Joel, oblivious to her internal panic, delivered his message. “His Excellency wishes to see you tonight. Please attend to him at the usual hour.”
“I’ll be there.”
Once he left, Adi’s hand drifted back to her neck, adjusting the silk. Even as the spring air turned sweltering, she knew she could never again go without it.
*
Under the cover of a moonless night, Adi navigated the dim, silent corridors. The head chamberlain was waiting to usher her into the Duke’s private quarters. Inside, she found the Duke and Roy. With a brief command, the Duke dismissed his knight, and Roy bowed his way out.
The Duke sat up in bed. The soft glow of the room silhouetted his form through the fabric of his nightwear. Despite never seeing him engage in traditional training, his frame was defined by hard, functional muscle—the kind earned through years of relentless exertion.
“Yesterday was too chaotic for us to speak properly,” Yuls began. “Adrina.”
Adi felt a physical jolt. It had been an eternity since she had heard that name directed at her. The sound of it was jarring, sparking a strange, uncomfortable heat in her chest.
“…I apologize for my boldness, Your Excellency, but I would prefer you did not use that name.”
Yuls held her gaze for a long moment before nodding. “As you wish.” He understood the risks; even in private, the walls of a palace often had ears, and rumors were the currency of the court. “Don’t just stand there looking like a cornered animal. Take a seat.”
Adi bypassed the bed—sitting there felt like a dangerous breach of etiquette—and chose a chair by the window.
The distance between them didn’t last. Yuls rose and crossed the room, looming over her. His height was imposing, casting a shadow that made Adi feel uncharacteristically vulnerable. She had never been one to fear men, yet his proximity made her heart race.
“How long have you been masquerading as your brother?”
“…Is that information truly necessary?”
“I need the full scope of your circumstances.”
“If my dishonesty offends you, you are free to return me to the 2nd Knights Order this instant.”
Yuls clicked his tongue, sensing her defensiveness. “You’re smarter than that. You know that isn’t what I’m after.”
He leaned in, his eyes searching hers. He could read the suspicion written across her face. With a resigned sigh, he walked to the door and pulled it open, nearly hitting the man waiting on the other side.
“Roy, get Joel.”
Roy scurried off, assuming the Duke required medical attention. Yuls shut the door and returned to Adi.
“He’s a healer, yes, but he’s also skilled in Administrative magic. He can notarize a formal agreement. If I sign a binding contract to keep your secret, will you finally be honest with me?”
“…”
She couldn’t understand why he was going to such extremes.
“What if I told you I wanted to help you?”
“I don’t understand your motives, Your Excellency.”
Yuls crossed his arms, staring down at her. Her confusion seemed genuine, which only frustrated him more. “You aren’t a fool. Why is this so hard for you to grasp?” He muttered the next part almost to himself. “Is it possible you’ve never experienced someone acting out of simple kindness?”
“What did you say?”
Adi blinked, but Yuls didn’t elaborate. A frantic knock preceded Joel, who arrived out of breath.
“I’m here, Your Excellency.”
“We’re drafting a contract. Get the parchment from the side room.”
Adi watched Joel, who looked utterly bewildered. “A contract… with Sir Adrian?”
“Exactly.”
“May I ask the nature of the agreement?”
“A non-disclosure oath.”
Joel hesitated. “You realize a magically bound document cannot be broken unless both parties agree to dissolve it?”
“I am aware. I need her to trust me.”
Joel was stunned. A notarization spell was no mere legal formality; it was a brand upon the soul. Such magic was reserved for the gravest of matters—treaties or royal betrothals.
“Move quickly,” Yuls ordered.
Resigned, Joel prepared the materials. Under the Duke’s direction, he penned a standard secrecy vow, ensuring the terms were balanced and fair. Joel wanted to protest—this was a reckless use of magic—but he couldn’t disobey.
Once the signatures were dry, Joel began the incantation. The words were ancient and guttural, sounding like nothing Adi had ever heard.
The parchment ignited, dissolving into a brilliant light that vanished into the air. Suddenly, a sharp, stinging heat flared on Adi’s hand. She looked down to see a small, glowing crest etched onto her left pinky. Yuls looked at his own hand, marked by the same magical brand.
“Leave us, Joel.”
The healer lingered, his expression sour. He clearly had more to say, but the oath now prevented him from interfering. He gave a frustrated huff and retreated, sealing the door behind him.
Once they were truly alone, Yuls turned back to her. “Now, answer me. When did you start living as your brother?”
“…The day Adrian passed away.”
“And who in Grimaldi is aware of this?”
Adi looked at him, her mind drifting back to a day of white blossoms and cold shadows. “The entire estate knows.”
She remembered the snow weighing down the magnolia branches until they snapped. The wind had scattered the petals, turning the pristine white into a muddy mess on the ground.
“Everyone knows Adrian died when the snow fell.”
She could still see her twin’s pale, blue-tinted skin inside the wooden box.
“They all heard the Countess scream in mourning.”
He had been buried under a shroud of golden hair and dying flowers.
“And they all heard the Count tell the world not to weep over the death of a mere girl.”
She remembered the sound of dirt hitting the coffin, a rhythm of grief and abandonment.
“They all know.”
“Then Lev Zid is aware as well,” Yuls remarked, his voice darkening. He had seen how the knight treated her; it was a far cry from the reverence due to a noble.
A twin perceived as a curse, a daughter viewed only as a bargaining chip for a marriage alliance—Adi had never known the warmth of a family that valued her. The Count hadn’t even bothered to maintain a facade of respect for her. She had been raised in an environment of such blatant cruelty that she likely didn’t even recognize it as abuse. It was simply her reality. That was why a servant like Lev felt empowered to disrespect her openly.
“…Do you want me to deal with him?” Yuls asked. “Actually, never mind. Tell me why you believe returning home means your death.”
