Chapter 94
Even though she recognized that Claude and Yuls were separate individuals, Adi found herself involuntarily comparing their every trait. The two were entirely devoid of commonalities. From their physical stature and the breadth of their hands to the shades of their hair and eyes, they bore no resemblance to one another, despite their status as cousins.
As Claude guided her closer, his arm tightening firmly around her middle, Adi felt her posture go rigid. The sensation of their bodies making contact was repulsive. Beyond that, the way his fingers brushed against her palm while they danced felt slimy and inappropriate.
“You and the Count seemed to be sharing quite a private moment earlier,” he remarked.
“Is that how you interpreted it?” she asked.
“Family is family, after all,” Claude said. “Even if things are tense now, surely you’ll find common ground eventually.”
Adi found it a struggle to match his rhythm as he spoke. The experience was the complete antithesis of her dance with the Duke. While Yuls had been attentive and graceful, Claude moved with a selfish disregard for his partner. His focus was scattered, and his touch was unpleasantly cold.
“Does Your Highness believe your own relationship with His Majesty will see similar improvement?” Adi questioned.
“There is no true animosity between myself and the throne,” he replied. “I simply intend to claim what belongs to me with a bit more haste.”
His breathing was erratic, and his eyes flitted across the room as if searching for something, despite his attempts to maintain a composed expression.
“I once assumed Sir Adrian Grimaldi shared that ambition. It was the reason I sought an alliance with him.”
“I take it your perspective has shifted,” she noted.
“The circumstances have evolved,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.
“I see.”
Adi watched with a flicker of annoyance as he moistened his mouth. Even without words, the man’s desperate ambition was almost tangible.
“Things are very different now,” Claude added before falling into a brief silence. He continued to lead her through the dance, though he seemed more interested in the music’s momentum than his partner. Keeping pace with his erratic movements was draining.
She relied on the lessons Yuls had provided to stay in step, which seemed to catch Claude off guard when he finally looked down at her. Curiously, the height difference between them felt less significant than it had with the Duke.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Not at all… I am simply surprised by your proficiency. I hadn’t pegged you for someone with formal training.”
“What led you to that conclusion?”
“The Count was an embarrassment on the dance floor,” Claude chuckled. “He never cared for the social scene, so I doubt he ever bothered to learn.”
Adi couldn’t find the humor in his story. Learning of her father’s lack of grace was news to her; she had never even pictured him dancing. Yet, he must have participated in court life at some point. She wondered if her mother had ever been forced into a dance with that man.
It was clear Claude possessed knowledge about her family that she lacked. Having resided in Ionad, he had clearly spent more time in the Count’s orbit than she or Adrian ever had.
“You possess a certain talent,” he conceded.
“The Duke was an excellent instructor,” Adi replied.
She wondered if Yuls had truly been a master of the craft or if he had simply practiced for her sake. She had never seen him dance with anyone else. It made sense; the sight of a young boy attempting to lead a grown woman through a ballroom would have invited ridicule, and Yuls loathed being looked down upon.
“…I understand,” Claude murmured.
He must have put in the effort, as his movements with her had been flawless. However, Claude didn’t dwell on it. “I find myself wondering about something,” he said.
“What are your intentions regarding Yuls?”
“I haven’t reached any specific conclusions on that matter yet,” she answered.
“That is a lie.”
“If Your Highness chooses to believe so, there is little I can do to change your mind.”
“You truly are your father’s child,” he remarked.
“That isn’t a compliment I enjoy,” Adi countered.
“And yet,” she continued, “I often find myself thinking the same thing.”
Claude’s eyebrows rose in surprise at her admission.
“Which is exactly why I find it so revolting,” she added.
A sudden, sharp laugh escaped Claude, drawing the attention of the surrounding guests. He tried to stifle his amusement but eventually leaned his head against Adi’s shoulder, overcome. In any other circumstance, he might have made a lewd comment about her frame or her skin, but he was too distracted by his own mirth.
The idea that Adrina was nothing like the Count was a fallacy. She might have inherited her mother’s beauty, but her sharp tongue and difficult temperament were pure Grimaldi. It was a remarkable resemblance, considering how little time they had shared.
The primary distinction was her bluntness. The discipline of a knight occasionally sharpened her speech. While the Count was a calculating politician who never let a slip of the tongue disadvantage him, this girl was raw and edged. She would have been a formidable political asset if she’d been groomed for the role.
“It’s as if the heavens swapped your soul with your brother’s,” Claude mused. “A clerical error in the womb, surely.”
Had she been Adrian, she would have been a fascinating partner in power, but as a woman, she was limited. He couldn’t engage in serious statecraft with a lady. It was a pity, but in his mind, power was reserved for those born male.
“The Council convenes shortly,” he said, shifting topics. “While every meeting matters, the Privy Council is the heart of it all.”
“The Privy Council…” she repeated.
“The Crown’s inner circle of advisors. They hold the keys to sovereign power. Your father was once a member before the Crown pushed him out. But perhaps I’ve mentioned that before?”
Adi gave a small nod. She hadn’t known the specifics of the council, but Claude had previously detailed the Count’s exile from Ionad with even more bitterness.
“Marquis Francopan took his place,” Claude noted.
“I see.”
“You aren’t familiar with the Marquis?”
“I am not.”
“He is the man you murdered.”
Adi didn’t bother to defend her character, but she knew the statement was factually incorrect. The assassin she had fought could not have been a Marquis. That left only one conclusion.
“Ah, my apologies,” Claude said with a smirk.
He was referring to the man the world believed Adi had killed, though the Count had actually been the one to strike the blow—a relative of both the Prince and the Duke.
“It was Sir Adrian Grimaldi who ended his life,” Claude corrected.
Watching him find amusement in the tragedy, Adi asked, “Are you doing this to provoke me?”
Claude put on a facade of innocence. “Me?” He let out another soft laugh. “And what if I am?”
“There is nothing I can do,” she replied. “I lack the influence of someone like the Count.”
“You have quite the sharp tongue,” he noted.
He understood her meaning perfectly: she was only biding her time until she had the power to strike back.
Of course, he didn’t believe Adrina Grimaldi would ever reach such heights. She had lost her noble standing and was now merely a commoner with a title of knighthood—and a woman to boot. No matter how high she rose in the military, she could never rival a Crown Prince.
There were powerful roles in the kingdom, but they weren’t destined for her. This only made Claude want her more.
“Yuls might provide you with safety,” he admitted.
It would be amusing to keep her as a pet of sorts. She was beautiful, after all.
“Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to join my camp?”
Claude enjoyed surrounding himself with aesthetic perfection. Anyone could buy a diamond, but curating a collection of beautiful, talented people was a rarer achievement.
Claude had been born into abundance. Between his royal lineage and a father who had paved his way, the throne was essentially a gift waiting for him to unwrap it.
The Count had played a major role in ensuring that path was clear.
“I really should have pressured him to hand you over to me years ago,” Claude mused.
He looked at her with a possessive, greedy light in his eyes. He wanted her as a decorative, obedient servant.
“I decline,” she said flatly.
“……”
The rejection stunned him. Claude wasn’t used to people having their own will. Usually, he simply took what he desired, regardless of the other person’s feelings, using his status to crush any resistance.
However, this situation was complicated by Yuls. As a Duke, Yuls held a rank that Claude couldn’t simply override on a whim. He needed the girl to choose him willingly, yet she was refusing.
“And why is that?”
“Because an alliance with you means an alliance with Count Grimaldi, and I will never work with him.”
“What makes you think I’ll keep him around? I can discard him whenever I choose.”
“The Count won’t allow that,” Adi said. “He won’t let go of you.”
She knew her father didn’t actually like Claude; he was poor at hiding his disdain. But Claude was the only vehicle that could carry the Count back to the halls of power, so he would endure the Prince’s company.
“He won’t leave your side until he has secured what he wants. That is his nature.”
“You seem to have a deep understanding of the man,” Claude observed.
It wasn’t that she knew him well; it was simply that she recognized her own traits in him. The realization that she shared his calculating mind made her skin crawl.
“Who will fill the vacancy left by Marquis Francopan?” she inquired.
“Someone with the appropriate pedigree and influence, naturally.”
“Will the Count be reinstated?”
“That is certainly his hope. It’s why he’s been so helpful to me lately.”
“Will you grant him the seat?”
“I intend to support his appointment to the Privy Council,” Claude said, flashing a smile that seemed genuine.
“For the time being,” he added internally.
Claude didn’t trust the Count any more than Adi did.
“Are you going to report this conversation to him?” he asked.
“Is there a point?” she replied.
The Count was no fool.
“If I can see through your intentions, I am certain he already has.”
