Chapter 79
Joel took on the burden of forging the new credentials. A healing mage by trade, he spent the entire process grumbling about being treated like a common clerk, though his complaints were frequently cut short by shock. Every time Yuls or Bert added a new demand, Joel’s jaw would drop; the sheer absurdity of the details they required turned his complexion a sickly shade of white.
Constructing a past for Adrina was a multi-layered deception. They couldn’t simply present her as Adrina Dean from the jump. The plan required Bert to officially adopt a niece, which meant they first had to invent a girl who was eligible for adoption.
The task was a logistical nightmare. Most citizens within the Woodpecker lands were already documented, so they needed to claim she was a foreigner entering Dalkatir from a land with no local ties. Small principalities were out of the question—everyone there knew everyone else—so they had to look toward larger nations. However, that presented its own set of problems, as they had to match her physical appearance to the regional traits of a specific territory.
Major powers in the Central Continent, such as Belipeera or Tuberosa, possessed sophisticated record-keeping that made forgery risky. After endless circular debates, Joel finally settled on a country currently being emptied by the fires of war, where refugees were common and records were ashes. He was deep into the paperwork to finalize Bert Dean’s adoption of this phantom girl when he suddenly reached his breaking point, scattering the documents into the air.
“I can’t take this!”
The room went silent as everyone stared at him. Joel felt a stinging sense of exclusion. The revelation that Sir Adrian Grimaldi was actually a woman had hit him hard, especially knowing that Ivan, Gavin, and Bert had been in on the secret. He, Roy, and Billy had been the only ones left in the dark.
Billy was particularly miserable, his self-esteem in tatters because he hadn’t noticed the truth. He had spent years priding himself on his eye for detail, even going so far as to claim his styling was so perfect that he’d made a “man” look like a convincing woman, never realizing he was actually dressing a lady.
“When exactly did the rest of you find out?” Joel demanded.
Bert and Gavin, who were currently tracing a believable travel route for Adi’s arrival in Dalkatir, looked up at their frustrated companion.
“If you knew, why didn’t you say something?”
The two men explained that they hadn’t been in the loop for long either. The truth had only come out when they were ordered to source a cadaver to serve as Adi’s double.
“I’ve been walking around telling people I suspected His Excellency was involved in a scandalous affair with a man!” Joel groaned.
“To be fair,” Gavin shrugged, “everyone assumed that.”
“That isn’t the point! A romance between a man and a woman is a completely different story than what I thought was happening!”
“We were just as clueless back then,” Gavin insisted.
Bert gave Joel a look of pure confusion. “I don’t see why you’re so worked up. You were born in a neighboring country where men loving men is practically the national pastime.”
“I was only born there!” Joel snapped, defending his dignity. “I was raised with Dalkatir values!”
Having declared his conservative upbringing, Joel collapsed into his chair, looking utterly drained. He stared at the mess on the floor for a moment before sighing, leaning down to retrieve the scattered pages, and returning to his work.
“Fine. I’m listing her as Adrina Dean,” Joel said, clicking his pen. “So, who is this Adrian supposed to be?”
“Adi’s twin,” someone replied.
“And what happened to him?”
“He’s likely the one resting in Adrina Grimaldi’s tomb.”
The grim reality of the situation settled over them. To keep the Grimaldi title from falling into the hands of outsiders or being dissolved, the Count had claimed his son survived while burying him under his daughter’s name. He had put his own son in a girl’s grave just to maintain the line.
“What kind of father does that?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Roy muttered from the corner.
Though Roy had been adjusting well to life in Woodpecker, he hadn’t stirred from the house all day. He remained tucked away in the quarters shared by the Pallesa Palace servants, his face drained of color.
“What’s wrong with Roy?”
“He’s still reeling from the news about Adi,” Bert noted.
Roy looked up sharply. “And you aren’t? It makes sense now! Every time I’d walk out of the bath, she’d start yelling at me to put some clothes on!”
Thinking back, the signs were all there. Adi had always been incredibly modest, and she would scowl with genuine disgust whenever he paraded around naked.
“My chances at a good marriage are over!” Roy wailed.
Bert raised an eyebrow. “Wait, were you actually planning to marry her?”
He was about to warn Roy that the Duke had already staked a claim when Roy cut him off with a look of horror.
“Are you insane? I have a type, and it isn’t women who threaten to castrate men they don’t like!”
Joel and Gavin both winced, clearly disturbed by that mental image.
“If I hadn’t followed her orders to crush that guy’s stones, she would have done it to me,” Roy continued, shivering. “Adi was the Palace Dog. You don’t get a nickname like that for being sweet. She’s calm now, but her reputation back at Pallesa was terrifying. If the knights back there ever found out she was a girl, they’d lose their minds.”
“Keep it down,” Bert warned. “This is a state secret.”
“I know that! I’m not a traitor.”
Despite his shock, Roy knew how to keep his mouth shut. He tried to imagine the reverse—if he had spent years disguised as a lady and then suddenly told a female friend the truth. She’d be horrified. Sometimes a secret was required just to keep a friendship alive.
He realized she must have shared the truth because she finally felt she could trust them. But knowing it didn’t make it any easier to process. How could Adi Grimaldi—the most ruthless person in a palace full of bastards—be a woman? She was nothing like any woman he’d ever met. She had survived the lion’s den of men without a single slip-up.
“Where is she now?” Roy asked. “In the barracks?”
“She’s a knight,” Gavin answered. “Where else would she be? Though she’ll need to be knighted again.”
“Because Adrian is officially dead?”
“Exactly. His Excellency will have to bestow the title himself this time.”
Since the honors she’d received from the Crown Prince were tied to a dead identity, a new ceremony was necessary.
“It’s probably for the best,” Bert mused. “Everything worked out in the end.”
Adi answered a soft rap at her door to find a woman significantly shorter than herself waiting in the hall.
“Adrina Dean?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Mary, the head maid for the knights’ wing. The head chamberlain sent me to assist with your relocation.”
Adi looked back at her sparse belongings. “I only have this picture frame.”
“Then please, follow me.”
Mary led the way to a new set of quarters one floor up, tucked into a quiet corner of the building.
“This is your room,” the maid said, swinging the door open. It was a spacious area with two large windows and, most importantly, its own private bathroom.
“Do you require anything else?”
Adi shook her head. Mary gave a knowing smile and bowed.
“Welcome to Woodpecker.”
“Thank you,” Adi replied softly.
Once she was alone, Adi surveyed her new home. The room featured light blue curtains with delicate floral embroidery, a large bed with crisp white linens, and a small side table holding a lamp. A desk and a comfortable chair sat near the window, with a wardrobe standing against the opposite wall.
When she opened the wardrobe, she found it packed with clothing. They must have used the measurements from her uniform fittings to stock it, though she was surprised to find a full array of feminine attire. She ran a hand over the fabric of a dress, watching it sway, and felt certain she’d never have a reason to wear such a thing. She also noticed a supply of women’s undergarments.
Leaving the wardrobe open, she retreated to the bathroom—a luxury she hadn’t enjoyed in her previous room. It was a thoughtful touch.
Adi caught her reflection in the mirror. She pulled off her shirt and began the familiar, painful process of unstrapping her leather chest binding. As the constriction vanished, she took a deep, unrestricted breath. She pulled her short hair back, noting that even without the armor, she didn’t look particularly feminine.
After stowing her gear in the wardrobe, she put on the new undergarments. It had been years since she’d worn anything of the sort. She pulled her chemise back on, sat on the edge of the bed, and carefully placed the framed portrait on the nightstand.
She turned her gaze to the window. The scenery here was alien; broad-leafed trees mingled with exotic palms she had only ever seen in books.
“Adrian,” she whispered, picking up the frame. Though she saw his face every day, his features seemed to blur before her eyes. She traced the glass with her thumb.
“I’ve dragged your name through the mud.”
The guilt she had been stifling finally found its way into words.
“I am so sorry.”
Count Grimaldi had claimed that the head rotting on the palace walls belonged to his son. To Adi, that wasn’t an attack on her—it was a desecration of her brother’s memory. She couldn’t let that stand.
“I will make this right,” she vowed. “I will restore your honor.”
The trail of Adi Grimaldi had gone cold. None of the men who departed with the Duke matched Adi’s description, and the headcount for the Duke’s party matched the official records perfectly. Sir Adrian Grimaldi had simply vanished.
The Count was plagued by questions. Was he hiding in the palace? Had he slipped away during the chaos? Spencer Grimaldi was deeply unsettled by the fact that the girl was still out there somewhere. He couldn’t allow the Grimaldi bloodline to be tainted by some commoner or collateral branch just to fill the void.
“Lev.”
“I am here, My Lord.”
“Contact the guilds—both the informants and the assassins. I want a wider search for Adi.”
“As you wish.”
Spencer watched Lev depart with a look of distaste before turning to enter the drawing room. Claude was already there, pacing the floor and commenting on how surprisingly bright Yuls’s tastes were.
“Your Highness.”
“Count.” Claude turned to face him. “Luigi’s funeral is being held at Pallesa Palace. Marchioness Connolly is insisting on overseeing the arrangements herself.”
“A tragic loss,” the Count replied smoothly. “He was her favorite nephew, after all.”
Claude looked at the Count with visible loathing. Claude knew he was no saint, but the Count operated on a level of inhumanity that made him skin crawl. They were allies of convenience, but the Prince was already looking for a way to sever the tie.
“I’ll see you in Ionad,” Claude said, heading for the exit.
The Count didn’t bother watching him leave. His eyes were fixed on the distant castle walls, where a single head remained on display.
Claude, walking through the corridors, happened to glance out a window at the same sight. High on the outer wall sat the head of the man the world believed was Adrian Grimaldi.
“So,” Claude murmured to the empty hall. “She was a woman all along.”
Adrina Grimaldi was still out there.
