《The Bride Of The Devil》


 Chapter 1: The Devil Returns

    Chapter 1: The Devil ReturnsLydia Andreyevna sat by the tall window in her room, her book resting gently on her lap. The sky outside was glowing orange¡ªthe sun slowly disappearing behind the hills. The air was quiet, and the room smelled like fresh flowers from the vase by her bed.


    She was a very beautiful girl. Her hair was golden, soft and long, falling over her shoulders. Her skin was pale like snow, and her eyes were a clear blue, like the ocean she often dreamed about. Right now, she was lost in a story. In her mind, she was on a ship, sailing far away to new lands, the wind in her hair, salt in the air.


    Below, in the garden, her cousins were laughing. There were four of them. Little Pyotr, only eleven, was chasing his older brother Mikhail, who had just turned fourteen. The two older girls, Anya and Elena, aged eighteen and nineteen, were picking flowers and talking softly. Lydia smiled a little. She liked watching them. It made her feel less alone.


    But then, she saw something that made her heart sink.


    A black carriage rolled into the driveway. The horses were large and strong, their hooves loud on the stones. The family crest on the side of the carriage glinted in the last light of the sun.


    Her smile faded.


    "The devil is back," she whispered to herself.


    Her uncle, Lord Alexander Andreyev, had returned from the sea. He had been gone for months, sailing with their family¡¯s ships. The Andreyevnas owned most of the ships in the kingdom of Zolotaria. He always came back with gold and goods¡ªbut he also brought tension. Everyone knew when he was in the house.


    Dinner was already being prepared. The smell of roasted duck and warm bread filled the halls. The servants moved quickly, laying out the table, pouring drinks, lighting candles.


    When Alexander stepped into the house, the mood changed. It always did. His boots echoed on the floors, and even the youngest servant stood straighter when he passed.


    At the dinner table, everyone sat quietly at first. Then his children began to speak.


    "Papa, how was the sea?" Mikhail asked.


    "Did you bring us something?" Anya chimed in, smiling.


    He answered them kindly, his deep voice calm and warm. He told stories of storms and faraway lands. He laughed with them and gave each of his children a small gift.


    Lydia didn¡¯t say a word. She only picked at her food.


    Then he turned to her.


    "How old are you now?" he asked casually, not even looking her way. "Eighteen? Or something like that?" sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Lydia looked up slowly. She knew he remembered. He just liked pretending not to care.


    "I¡¯m nineteen," she replied.


    He smiled.


    "Perfect," he said. "You¡¯re of marrying age."


    Lydia placed her fork down gently and stood, her voice calm. "Marriage? That wasn¡¯t the agreement, Uncle," she said. "You promised that after my parents passed, you would teach me the business. You said I could have the ship they built for me."


    He wiped his mouth slowly with a napkin and leaned back in his chair. "There¡¯s been a change of plans."


    Lydia¡¯s voice shook slightly. "What kind of plans?"


    He looked at her like she was a child asking too many questions. "You¡¯re getting married, Lydia. To a nobleman. A strong match. It will help our family and the business. It¡¯s time you contributed something useful."


    Lydia stared at him, stunned. Her chest felt tight. "Why?" she whispered. "Why now? My parents never said anything about marriage. They... they wanted me to follow my dreams. They said I could choose my own path."


    Alexander scoffed. "Your parents are dead," he said coldly, his voice rising. "And dreams don¡¯t keep ships afloat or fill coffers. This isn¡¯t about what you want."


    She tried to speak again, but he cut her off sharply.


    "I am the head of this family now!" he snapped, his hand slamming the table. The plates rattled. "I decide what happens, not some silly girl who reads fairy tales all day!"


    Lydia¡¯s lips trembled. Her heart was breaking in silence.


    "You have no right to question me," he finished, his tone like ice.


    She couldn¡¯t take it anymore.


    Lydia turned and ran out of the room. Her footsteps echoed as she rushed to her bedroom. She threw herself onto her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to be quiet, but her sobs came out in sharp, broken sounds.


    Back at the table, the cousins sat in silence.


    Alexander took a deep breath and then smiled at them. "Go on, finish your dinner," he said softly, as if nothing had happened.


    Later that night, Lydia still lay on her bed, her back to the door. Her chest ached from crying.


    There was a soft knock. Then the door opened quietly.


    It was the head servant, a kind woman named Galina. She had worked for the family since Lydia was a little girl. She wasn¡¯t noble, but Lydia trusted her more than anyone.


    "Don¡¯t cry too much, my darling," Galina whispered, sitting beside her. She gently stroked Lydia¡¯s hair. "You know your uncle. He won¡¯t change his mind."


    Lydia sniffed. "He lied to me... He promised me my ship."


    Galina gave a sad smile. "Men like him forget their promises when they see gold."


    Lydia turned to face her, her eyes still wet.


    "I don¡¯t want to marry anyone. Not like this," she whispered.


    Galina patted her hand. "Let¡¯s not think about that now. Tomorrow, I¡¯ll take you with me to the market. A walk might help you feel better."


    Lydia nodded slowly. She was too tired to speak.


    Galina stayed until Lydia fell asleep, her breathing soft and slow.


    And outside, the moon rose over the Andreyevna house.


    The devil had returned¡ªand everything was about to change

 Chapter 2: Ivan Romanov

    Chapter 2: Ivan RomanovThe next morning, Galina woke Lydia very early¡ªjust as the sun was barely rising behind the hills. The world was still quiet, covered in a soft blue mist. Lydia was still half asleep when another young maid, Daria, stepped into the room carrying fresh clothes and a warm towel. She smiled shyly at Lydia. "Good morning, My Lady," she said softly.


    The two women helped Lydia into her bath, then brushed her long golden hair and tied it into a simple braid. They dressed her in a plain blue gown, and Galina placed a dark hood over her head.


    "We¡¯ll leave quietly. Before anyone wakes up," Galina whispered.


    They moved silently through the long hallway, their footsteps light. But just as they turned the corner, Lydia stopped in her tracks. A dim light flickered in the hall, and Lord Alexander was already there, sitting at a desk, writing something under a small oil lamp.


    He looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Where are you all headed this early?" His voice was calm, but his presence made Lydia¡¯s heart race.


    Galina quickly stepped forward. "My lord, the young lady needs new clothes. Since she is to meet her groom soon, it¡¯s best she looks her best."


    Alexander stared at Lydia for a moment, then nodded. "You¡¯re right. You¡¯re smart, Galina. Always thinking ahead."


    Just as they turned to leave, he called again, "Lydia." Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She froze.


    He walked toward her and handed her a small pouch of gold coins. "Make sure you buy beautiful clothes. And jewelry too. You¡¯ll be meeting your future husband tomorrow."


    Lydia said nothing. She took the pouch with shaking hands, bowed slightly, and turned away.


    Once they stepped outside the gates of the Andreyevna estate, Lydia let out a deep breath. For the first time in days, she smiled. The fresh air kissed her face gently. She felt a small wave of relief.


    The streets slowly came to life. The morning sun rose higher, shining gently on the stone roads and the wooden stalls. People were setting up goods¡ªfruits, fabrics, spices. Galina led the way as they moved through the market, stopping at different stalls.


    Daria chatted as they walked, her arms full of vegetables. "Aren¡¯t you even curious, my lady? About who you¡¯re getting married to?"


    Lydia sighed and looked away. "No. I already know it¡¯ll be someone horrible. That¡¯s how my uncle does things."


    Daria blinked. "Well, that¡¯s sad."


    Annoyed, Lydia walked ahead quickly, leaving the two servants behind as they argued over the price of some spices.


    Just then, a man came rushing through the crowd, shouting. "The devil is here! Make way! Out of the way!"


    Panic spread fast.


    Stall owners grabbed what they could. Some flipped their tables and ran. Others dropped everything and knelt on the ground.


    Lydia stood frozen. She had never seen anything like this before. She had never been outside alone. And now, people around her were bowing with their faces to the ground.


    Then came the sound of horses.


    A group of soldiers rode in, their silver armor shining under the sun. At the front was a tall man on a white horse. His face was hidden behind a cold, silver metal mask that glinted sharply in the light.


    The horse galloped straight toward Lydia. She couldn¡¯t move. Just as the horse neared her, it stopped sharply, its hooves nearly brushing her dress. She fell back onto the stone path, her hood slipping off.


    The masked man turned his head slowly toward her.


    Lydia looked at him, her heart pounding so fast she thought it might stop.


    Then he rode off.


    Only when he was far gone did Galina and Daria rush over to help her up. "My lady! Are you alright?" Daria cried, brushing dirt off Lydia¡¯s gown.


    Lydia clung to Galina¡¯s arm, still shaking. "Wh-who was that man?"


    Galina looked serious. "That was Ivan Romanov. The Grand Duke. The Czar¡¯s First Son."


    Daria nodded quickly, eyes wide. "You¡¯re lucky to be alive, my lady. They say he kills people for offending him. He killed his first man at nine. Fought in his first war at thirteen. He¡¯s been on the battlefield for eleven years. They say he even killed a wolf with his bare hands. A bear too when he was just sixteen!"


    Lydia¡¯s eyes widened.


    Galina chuckled softly. "Well, whoever your groom is, just pray it¡¯s not Ivan Romanov. He¡¯s a monster. The devil in fact."


    Daria added with a grin, "If it is... may the gods help you, my lady."


    Lydia didn¡¯t laugh.


    Her heart was still trembling.

 Chapter 3: The Monster With No Soul

    Chapter 3: The Monster With No SoulThe group of soldiers and Ivan Romanov rode straight to the palace. The gates were already open. The moment they arrived, every servant, guard, and noble in sight either bowed or moved out of the way in silence. No one dared to speak.


    Their eyes went to him¡ªthe man in the silver mask.


    Behind them, tied and beaten, was a prisoner. A man accused of treason. He was being dragged away toward the palace dungeons, his screams muffled by blood and cloth.


    At the steps, a servant with shaking hands stepped forward, bowing low. "Your Highness... the Czar awaits you in the throne room."


    Ivan said nothing. He simply followed the servant in silence, his steps heavy, steady, echoing through the golden halls.


    Inside the throne room, the Czar sat tall on his throne. His name was Czar Vladimir. His beard was grey with age, and his crown rested low on his forehead. His eyes, however, were sharp as ever. Beside him, on a slightly smaller seat, sat Queen Olga¡ªbeautiful, cold, and distant. Her black hair fell like ink over her shoulders. Her lips were red, her hands resting stiffly on her lap. She didn¡¯t smile.


    The Czar leaned forward slightly. "You¡¯ve done well," he said. "Those traitors in Velinsk were bold. Planning to overthrow the crown with such madness. And now they hang, thanks to you."


    Ivan gave a small nod.


    Queen Olga didn¡¯t say a word. She turned her head slightly, her gaze never meeting his. Her jaw was clenched. She looked like she wanted him gone.


    Ivan bowed and turned to leave.


    Just as he stepped out of the hall, a cheerful voice echoed behind him. "Brother! Wait for me!"


    He turned slowly.


    Running through the tall doorways was a small boy, no older than eight. His name was Prince Leonid, the Queen¡¯s only child. His hair was golden-brown, his eyes wide with excitement.


    "I saw you ride in!" the boy beamed. "Were you really at the border? Did you fight again? Did you get hurt? Can I¡ª"


    Ivan stopped him by placing a hand gently on the boy¡¯s shoulder and pushing him aside. He didn¡¯t speak. He walked past him without a word.


    The boy stood still, blinking in confusion. His smile faded. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Just then, Queen Olga rushed in. Her eyes burned as she grabbed her son by the arm.


    "How many times have I told you to stay away from that monster?" she snapped. "Did you not see how he ignored you? He hates you, Leonid. Hates you and wants you dead. When will you learn? Stop admiring him!"


    The boy looked down. "But... he¡¯s so brave," he whispered.


    "He¡¯s a devil," she said coldly. "And one day, you¡¯ll see it for yourself."


    Back in the market, Lydia stood in the middle of a dress shop. The air smelled of silk, perfume, and fresh morning bread from the bakery down the street. A kind-faced dressmaker was taking her measurements, wrapping a soft cloth around her waist and arms.


    Galina and Daria were nearby, checking fabrics. "This lavender would look beautiful against her skin," Daria said, lifting a sheet of silk.


    "No, the blue. It brings out her eyes," Galina argued gently.


    While they discussed, another woman¡ªa second dressmaker with wild curly hair¡ªbarged into the shop, panting slightly. She waved a piece of paper in the air. "Did you all hear? Ivan Romanov returned from Velinsk!"


    Galina looked up. "What happened?"


    "They say he killed all the rebels who were plotting treason. The entire village was in flames when he rode through."


    Daria gasped. "That¡¯s not all, is it?"


    The woman leaned closer. "He had their heads hung up on spikes at the border! Can you imagine? The message was clear¡ªanyone who dares rise against the Czar will lose everything. The man¡¯s a demon."


    The dressmaker who was measuring Lydia scoffed loudly. "Demon? He¡¯s worse. He¡¯s a beast! Heartless. A monster with no soul. They say he wears that mask to hide his ugliness. Probably got his face scratched by the devil himself!"


    Lydia stiffened.


    The woman continued, "I heard he doesn¡¯t feel pain. Doesn¡¯t speak. Just kills like a ghost in the dark."


    Galina stepped closer to Lydia, noticing the pale look on her face. "It¡¯s alright," she whispered. "People say all kinds of things when they¡¯re afraid."


    But Lydia couldn¡¯t shake the chill in her bones.


    Back at the palace, Ivan Romanov sat at the edge of a pond. The sun was beginning to set, casting soft orange light across the water¡¯s surface. He sat still, his masked face watching the ripples. Alone. Always alone.


    From a distance, the Czar walked slowly toward the palace quarters. He paused when he saw his son sitting by the pond. He didn¡¯t speak, but his eyes stayed on Ivan for a long time¡ªfilled with something between sadness and guilt.


    But Ivan never turned to look at him.

 Chapter 4: Unexpected Expectations

    Chapter 4: Unexpected ExpectationsLydia arrived home with Galina and Daria just as the sun dipped behind the hills. The air was cooler now, the sky tinted with soft pink and gold. She was smiling faintly, distracted by thoughts of the gossip in the dress shop, and wondering if the lavender fabric would really suit her skin the way Daria claimed.


    As she stepped into the entrance hall and placed her bag down, a servant bowed quickly and said, "My Lady... The Baron requests your presence in his study."


    She paused with one foot on the staircase.


    "Right now?"


    "Yes, miss. He asked that you come at once."


    Lydia exchanged a glance with Galina, whose smile faded. Daria gently touched Lydia¡¯s arm, sensing the change in her mood.


    Lydia nodded and walked down the hallway toward her uncle¡¯s study. The doors were slightly open. She could hear his voice inside, low and firm, speaking to someone else.


    When she entered, Alexander was seated behind his desk, signing a few documents. Another man stood before him, but the moment he saw Lydia, Alexander waved the man away without looking up.


    "You may go."


    The man nodded, bowed slightly to Lydia, and slipped out.


    Lydia stepped in, her hands folded in front of her dress. "Uncle, you called for me?"


    He looked up, motioning to the chair across from him. "Sit down."


    She sat slowly.


    "I have good news," he said, leaning back. "I¡¯ve found the perfect groom for you."


    Lydia blinked. "What?"


    He smiled as if this were a happy thing. "Count Viktor Reznikov of Leskova. A powerful man. Respected. Very wealthy. He¡¯s shown interest."


    Her eyes widened. "The Count of Leskova? He¡¯s... he¡¯s old enough to be my grandfather!"


    "He¡¯s seventy-eight," Alexander confirmed, nodding. "Only Twenty-four years older than me." S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Lydia¡¯s lips parted in shock.


    "And that¡¯s the point," he added quickly. "He owns half the port warehouses and salt trading routes in the East. No children. No heirs. You marry him, give it ten, maybe fifteen years... and you¡¯ll own it all. It¡¯s a smart match. One day, you¡¯ll thank me."


    Her heart began to pound. She gripped the edge of the chair. "How can you say this to me?" she said, her voice rising. "You expect me to marry a man that old¡ªfor business?"


    Her uncle sighed. "Don¡¯t start, Lydia."


    "No! I won¡¯t be quiet!" she shouted. "How can you do this to me."


    The doors burst open.


    Her cousins, Elena and Anya, stood frozen. A few servants were behind them, startled by the noise.


    Alexander stood sharply and slammed his palm against the desk. "Enough!"


    Lydia flinched.


    "You think you¡¯re special? That you get to choose?" he barked. "You live under this roof because of me. You eat and dress and breathe because I raised you after your foolish parents died and left you with nothing!"


    Her chest tightened.


    "Why didn¡¯t you make Elena or Anya to marry him! I¡¯m Elena¡¯s age! Why me?" she replied with her eyes burning with rage.


    He stepped forward and slapped her across the face.


    The sound rang out in the room like thunder.


    "You mannerless child," he spat. "Your parents spoiled you with books and fantasies. Filled your head with lies. This¡ª" he pointed a finger at her "¡ªwill be the first and last time you question my decisions. Do you understand?"


    Lydia didn¡¯t answer. Her cheek stung. Her eyes blurred with tears. Elena and Anya stood still, their mouths parted, too shocked to move.


    She turned and ran. Her slippers pounded the stairs as she flew up to her room and slammed the door shut behind her. She locked it with shaking hands and fell onto the bed, crying into the pillows.


    Galina and Daria came moments later, knocking softly.


    "My Lady? Please open the door. It¡¯s us."


    She didn¡¯t answer.


    "My Lady..." Galina whispered again, her voice breaking.


    Inside, Lydia sobbed harder.


    Meanwhile, deep within the palace dungeon, the air was thick with dust and cold. A single torch burned low in the corner, casting shadows on the walls.


    The prisoner who had been dragged in earlier sat chained, blood dried around his mouth. He was half asleep when the door creaked.


    Someone entered.


    The figure wore a dark cloak, face hidden beneath the hood. They moved quietly, like a shadow.


    The chains clicked.


    The cloaked figure knelt down and held a ring of keys in their hand. With swift movements, the prisoner¡¯s cuffs were unlocked.


    He looked up, confused. "Who... who are you?"


    "I¡¯m giving you what you want," the stranger said in a low voice. "A second chance."


    The prisoner rubbed his bruised wrists. "Why?"


    "Because I want the same thing you do. The Grand Duke must die."


    The prisoner blinked. "Ivan Romanov?"


    The figure nodded. "He¡¯ll be riding past the forest near the dock tomorrow. That¡¯s where you¡¯ll find him. This is your chance¡ªfor revenge and for payment."


    The prisoner¡¯s eyes gleamed with something dark.


    "You¡¯ll get your revenge," the stranger said again, turning to leave. "If you¡¯re brave enough to take it."

 Chapter 5: Dawn Of Defiance

    Chapter 5: Dawn Of DefianceThe morning sun crept slowly through the sheer curtains of Lydia¡¯s room, casting soft light over the polished floor. She sat there on the cold wood, her back against the door, knees drawn to her chest. Her nightdress clung damply to her skin from sweat and tears. She had cried until her throat was sore. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, and there was a hollow heaviness pressing deep inside her chest.


    She hadn¡¯t slept at all.


    A quiet knock came on the door.


    "Lydia..." came Elena¡¯s voice, barely above a whisper.


    Lydia didn¡¯t respond. Her lips were dry, and her voice had long given out.


    Elena hesitated, then sat on the other side of the door, resting her back against it too, like they were sitting together again¡ªonly with a wall of silence between them.


    "I¡¯m sorry," Elena said gently. "What my father did yesterday... it wasn¡¯t right."


    Lydia blinked slowly, silent tears spilling again.


    "I wish I could stop it. But I know I can¡¯t. I¡¯m scared of him too. I know he won¡¯t change his mind."


    She paused, her voice trembling.


    "Please come out, Lydia. Don¡¯t stay like this..."


    But Lydia didn¡¯t move. Her breathing stayed quiet and even, like she hadn¡¯t heard a word.


    Eventually, Elena stood and walked away.


    Lydia stared blankly ahead. Her uncle had slapped her in front of everyone, spoken about her dead parents like they were a joke, and decided to hand her over to an old man like property. And nobody¡ªnot even her cousins¡ªhad stood up for her.


    Her fingers curled into fists.


    No, she thought. I¡¯ll never marry that man. Never.


    Her parents would turn in their graves if she gave in. They didn¡¯t raise her to be owned, to be used. Her uncle had already stolen her ship, her inheritance, her voice. If she gave in now, he would take everything. Even if the count died... her uncle would still find a way to take it all.


    He would win.


    A soft knock came again¡ªgentler this time.


    "It¡¯s me, Galina," came a warm voice.


    Lydia stood and unlocked the door slowly. The moment it opened, Galina stepped in and pulled her into a tight hug.


    "Don¡¯t worry, sweetheart," she whispered. "Everything will be okay."


    Lydia said nothing. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, but her eyes burned fiercely, like fire had taken the place of her tears.


    Meanwhile, in the palace, the Czar Vladimir sat in his private study with Grand Duke Ivan.


    "Ivan," Vladimir said, smiling calmly. "Why don¡¯t you stay a little longer? This palace is your home. Why the rush?" S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Ivan stood near the tall window, watching the breeze move the garden trees.


    "My work here is done," he said. "There¡¯s no reason for me to remain in the capital. I¡¯ll be leaving for Svetlania by sundown."


    Vladimir opened his mouth to speak again, but another voice cut him off.


    "There¡¯s no need to force him," said Olga.


    She had just entered the room and was glaring openly at Ivan.


    "He clearly doesn¡¯t want to stay," she added, her tone cold.


    Ivan didn¡¯t look at her. He only gave a polite bow to the Czar.


    "I¡¯ll take my leave."


    Vladimir looked between them but said nothing.


    Back at the Andreyevna estate, Lydia sat in the bath while Daria gently poured warm water over her hair. The steam rose softly around them, scented with rose oil.


    "Daria..." Lydia said quietly. "I¡¯ll never marry that man."


    Daria¡¯s hands paused in her hair.


    Lydia turned to face her, her voice urgent.


    "I¡¯m going to run away."


    Daria¡¯s eyes widened. "What?"


    "Please help me," Lydia begged. "You know my parents wouldn¡¯t have wanted this. They helped you when you had nowhere to go, remember? You told me yourself."


    "I know but..." Daria¡¯s voice trembled. "I¡¯ll be thrown out if anyone finds out. Your uncle¡ª"


    "Please," Lydia whispered, grabbing her hand. "Please, Daria. You¡¯re all I have left."


    The maid looked torn. Fear flickered across her face¡ªbut so did something else. Loyalty. Gratitude. Heart.


    After a long pause, she nodded slowly.


    "Fine... I¡¯ll help you. But you must act normal today. No tears. No defiance. We can¡¯t raise suspicion."


    "I will," Lydia promised. "I¡¯ll be quiet. I¡¯ll pretend."


    "I¡¯ll think of something," Daria said, more to herself. "I¡¯ll do my best. I swear."


    Without thinking, Lydia leaned forward and hugged her¡ªeven though her hair was soaked and bubbles were still clinging to her shoulders.


    "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

 Chapter 6: Behind The Mask

    Chapter 6: Behind The MaskLydia pretended the whole day like nothing was wrong. First, she came down for breakfast dressed neatly in a light cream dress, her hair tied back in a soft braid. Her face was calm, and not a single tear betrayed her sleepless night.


    She sat at the table and ate quietly, even picking at her food now and then so no one would suspect anything. Elena kept glancing at her and eventually leaned closer.


    "Are you... okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    "I¡¯m fine," Lydia replied, smiling faintly, her tone so smooth it almost fooled herself.


    To complete the act, she later approached her uncle in the study, where he was sipping tea and reading the day¡¯s correspondence.


    "You were right," she said, bowing slightly. "I¡¯ve been immature. I apologize."


    Her uncle looked at her with a smile full of pride, like he had just tamed a wild horse. "Ah, my dear! That¡¯s the right attitude. I knew you¡¯d understand. You¡¯re a smart girl, just like your mother."


    Lydia¡¯s stomach twisted at the mention of her mother, but she forced a nod.


    By noon, the Count arrived.


    Lydia had dressed carefully in a sky-blue gown trimmed with lace, her hair brushed and curled by the maids. She looked like a doll on display, not a girl with a broken heart. She met him in the parlor, her hands locked together to keep from shaking.


    He made conversation as if they were old friends.


    "Your mother," he began suddenly, swirling his drink, "she had the most beautiful eyes. I remember when I saw her at a ball... back then, I tried to woo her too, you know."


    Lydia¡¯s heart stilled. Her grip on her dress tightened under the table. She forced a smile as bile rose in her throat.


    "She was stunning. But I must say, you¡¯ve inherited her charm... and maybe even more." He chuckled.


    Lydia smiled, barely, but her teeth were clenched. She kept nodding politely, keeping her eyes fixed on the window behind him, counting the seconds until he would leave.


    Eventually, he did. He spoke with her uncle for a while, and they both laughed heartily. When they stepped outside, her uncle waved him off with one arm around Lydia¡¯s shoulder.


    "You did well," he said proudly. "Very well. The priest will be invited tomorrow. We¡¯ll pick a date. I¡¯m thinking two weeks. What do you say?"


    Lydia simply nodded and excused herself quietly. Once in her room, she locked the door and pressed her back against it, breathing heavily. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At the palace, the sun had begun to set, casting a golden hue over the marble floors and glinting off the swords of the guards. Servants rushed about, preparing for Ivan¡¯s departure.


    He stood in the courtyard, his cloak sweeping behind him as he mounted his horse. Two helmeted guards stood beside him.


    From a distance, the Czar watched silently, arms crossed behind his back. Ivan¡¯s younger brother Leonid came running toward him, tears spilling down his cheeks.


    "You¡¯re leaving again?" he cried. "But I haven¡¯t even heard the stories you promised!"


    Ivan didn¡¯t answer. He stared ahead, eyes cold and unreadable. Then he turned to his guards and said, "Let¡¯s go."


    As their horses trotted away, the palace behind them seemed to disappear into the dusk.


    Back at the Andreyevna estate, Lydia sat by the window, staring at the empty sky. Galina came in quietly and told her dinner was ready.


    The dining room was awkwardly quiet. No one spoke. Her cousins looked unsure¡ªunsure whether to congratulate her, avoid her, or pretend everything was fine. The silence felt like glass¡ªfragile and dangerous to touch.


    After dinner, Lydia took her bath with Daria¡¯s help. Warm water and soap bubbles rose around her, but nothing could wash away the anxiety twisting inside her.


    Daria broke the silence. "How will you survive without money?"


    Lydia looked at her, water dripping down her cheek. "Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve saved enough. I always had a feeling I¡¯d need it."


    Daria hesitated before speaking again. "I¡¯ve thought of something."


    Lydia¡¯s eyes widened with hope.


    "At midnight," Daria whispered, "when everyone¡¯s asleep, I¡¯ll leave the back door open. The one the servants use to bring in the deliveries. Take it. The barn will be unlocked. Take one of the horses. Ride through the forest path. There¡¯s a small house there. My cousin and her husband live in it."


    Lydia grabbed her arm, water sloshing over the edge of the tub. "Thank you... thank you, Daria."


    Daria looked nervous. "Don¡¯t thank me yet. Just... be careful. At dawn, a ship sails from the bay. It¡¯s headed to Velinograd, one of the outer islands. You can take it. Start a new life there."


    "I will," Lydia whispered, holding back tears. "I promise."


    Meanwhile, just outside the capital, Ivan and the guards trotted through the forest. The night was quiet except for the rustle of leaves.


    Suddenly, one of the guards slowed down. "I need to relieve myself," he said and walked into the trees.


    Minutes passed.


    "Too long," Ivan muttered. He turned to the other. "Go check on him."


    The second guard nodded and followed the trail. More time passed. Then he returned.


    "Your Highness," he said, voice low. "You need to see this."


    Ivan dismounted and followed him through the trees, sword by his side. As they moved through the darkness, he saw a body.


    It was the first guard¡ªdead. Throat slashed. Nearby, another corpse lay stripped of his clothes.


    "What is this?" Ivan asked, confused.


    Then he turned¡ªand a sharp pain exploded through his stomach.


    He gasped and stumbled back, clutching the wound. Blood poured through his fingers.


    The guard removed his helmet.


    It was the rebel.


    He laughed softly, watching Ivan fall to his knees.


    "Let me see," the man said, crouching. "Let me see the face of the monster behind the stories."


    He tilted Ivan¡¯s head up and froze.


    The man in front of him wasn¡¯t some old, cruel tyrant.


    He was young. And handsome. And calm, even in pain.


    "You¡¯re just a man," the rebel whispered. "You¡¯re not a monster."


    That pause was his mistake.


    With a burst of strength, Ivan drew his sword and drove it through the rebel¡¯s chest.


    The man choked on his breath. Eyes wide. Blood at his lips.


    He dropped to the ground, dead.


    Ivan fell beside him, hand pressed to his wound, blood soaking the earth.


    Darkness closed in.

 Chapter 7: Whispers In The Night

    Chapter 7: Whispers In The NightLydia sat quietly in her room. The night felt long and heavy. She didn¡¯t move for hours. She only listened. Listened to the sound of footsteps. Doors closing. Silence filling every corner of the house.


    When it was quiet enough, she slowly got out of bed. Her bare feet touched the cold floor. She moved to the end of her bed, where a low cushioned bench sat. She dragged it a little, careful not to make noise. Then she pulled off the soft padding at the top.


    Beneath it was a small chest¡ªold, dusty, but locked tight. Her hands trembled a little as she opened it. Inside lay a necklace, earrings, and a bracelet. All made of gold with dark red rubies. Her mother¡¯s jewelry. She hadn¡¯t looked at them in years.


    When her uncle took over, he never found this box. Lydia had hidden it away the same night her mother was taken. For eight years, it stayed untouched. Now, she needed it.


    She stared at the pieces. They looked heavy in the moonlight. Her chest hurt, but she knew what she had to do. Her mother would understand. Selling them was the only way to survive.


    Then, she went to her drawer and took out a small pouch. It was the one her uncle gave her yesterday to buy clothes and shoes. She never spent it. Now it would help too.


    Suddenly¡ªfootsteps. Coming closer. Her eyes widened. She hurried, putting back the cushion on the sat, then she pushed the chest under the blanket. She climbed back on her bed, pulled the duvet up to her chin, and held the pouch tightly under the cover.


    The door opened.


    Her heart raced. She didn¡¯t move.


    It was her uncle. He stood at the door for a few seconds. Then, thinking she was asleep, he closed the door and left.


    She waited a while. Then slowly let out a shaky breath.


    Far away in the forest, Ivan lay on the ground. His cloak soaked with blood. His body hurt. Every movement felt like knives were cutting through him. He groaned, trying to crawl toward the path. His horse was just ahead, but he couldn¡¯t reach it.


    He tried to sit up, but fell again. Blood ran from his mouth. His vision was fading.


    "I... won¡¯t die here," he whispered, over and over.


    Back at the estate, the clock struck midnight. Everyone was asleep.


    Lydia was dressed in a plain black cloak. A small bag hung across her shoulder. Inside it were her mother¡¯s jewelry and the money. She tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to make any sound.


    The servant door at the back was open¡ªjust as Daria promised.


    She stepped out into the night.


    The cold air touched her face, but she didn¡¯t stop. She walked quickly toward the barn. Her heart beat fast, but she didn¡¯t look back.


    She untied a horse and climbed on it. Her hands held the reins tightly. Then, with one last look at the house she once called home, she rode off into the night.


    In the forest, Ivan could barely move. His body was going numb. His lips were pale. He blinked slowly. The stars above looked like tiny dots through his weak eyes.


    He coughed and turned his head to the side. Blood spilled from his lips. Still, he kept whispering, "Not like this... not like this..."


    Lydia rode fast through the dark forest. The wind pulled at her cloak. Her eyes searched the path ahead. She followed the narrow trail just like Daria told her.


    But suddenly, she stopped. Her horse neighed softly.


    There were three horses standing in her path. No riders. Just the animals, alone.


    Lydia got off her horse. She looked around, confused. The trees stood tall around her. Everything was still.


    Then the clouds moved. Moonlight slipped through.


    That¡¯s when she saw him.


    A man was lying at the foot of a tree. His back leaned against the trunk. His clothes were covered in blood. His head tilted down, like he was sleeping.


    But he wasn¡¯t. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He was barely breathing.


    Lydia stood frozen, staring. She didn¡¯t know who he was. She didn¡¯t know if he was dead or alive. All she knew was¡ªhe needed help.

 Chapter 8: The Beautiful Stranger

    Chapter 8: The Beautiful StrangerLydia knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she reached for his wrist. His skin was cold, almost lifeless. She pressed two fingers on the inside of his wrist and closed her eyes. A faint pulse. Slow. Weak. But there.


    "You¡¯re alive," she whispered, voice cracking.


    She tried to lift him, pushing her hands under his arms. He didn¡¯t move. His body was too heavy, and she was too small. She tried again. Nothing. Her arms gave out, and she fell to her knees beside him.


    "Wait here. I¡¯ll get help. Just hold on," she whispered, even though she knew he couldn¡¯t hear her.


    Lydia stood, ran to her horse, and mounted quickly. She gripped the reins tightly and urged the horse forward. The night air stung her face. The forest path was narrow and dark, but she didn¡¯t stop. Daria had mentioned a house nearby. A couple who lived by the edge of the woods.


    Minutes passed like hours until finally, she saw a small wooden house with smoke rising from the chimney. She pulled the reins, jumped down, and ran to the door. She knocked hard.


    The door opened.


    A woman, Mira with strong eyes and a red scarf stood there. "You must be Lady Lydia," she said. "Daria told us you might come."


    "Yes, please¡ªhe¡¯s hurt. He¡¯s dying. Please help me! There¡¯s a man in the forest. He needs help!"


    Her husband, Pavel came from behind her. He was broad and tall, with grey in his beard. The woman grabbed a cloth. The man took his coat.


    "Lead us," he said.


    They followed Lydia back into the woods. When they reached Ivan, Pavel knelt and checked him quickly. He didn¡¯t say a word, just lifted him carefully onto his back.


    "He¡¯s heavy," Pavel grunted, "but I¡¯ve carried worse."


    Lydia ran beside them, holding the lantern as they moved through the forest. Back at the house, Pavel carried Ivan inside and laid him on a small bed in a warm room lit by a few oil lamps.


    "Take off those bloody clothes," Mira said. "My Lady, help me."


    They removed his torn shirt and armour, revealing wounds that hadn¡¯t stopped bleeding. His body was covered in scars¡ªsome old, some fresh.


    The woman cleaned the wounds while Lydia held a cloth against one on his side. Blood soaked through it fast.


    "He must be strong to survive this," Pavelsaid from the doorway, arms crossed.


    "He¡¯s alive because of you," Mira added, glancing at Lydia.


    They looked at his clothes, then at each other.


    "He¡¯s from the palace, isn¡¯t he?" Mira asked.


    "Looks like a guard," Pavel said. "I¡¯ll go there first thing in the morning to report. But I¡¯ll stay up tonight. Just in case."


    "I¡¯ll boil some water and clean the rest of these clothes. My Lady, watch over him," Mira said.


    Lydia nodded.


    "If he starts burning up," Mira continued, "wet a cloth and cool his body. Fever can come fast."


    Lydia sat beside him. The room was quiet now, except for the soft crackle of the fire and Ivan¡¯s shallow breathing.


    She looked at him. His face was pale, lips dry, but even like this, he looked peaceful. His hair was brown and a little curly. His body was full of old scars¡ªon his chest, shoulders, and arms. She wondered how long he had been fighting. How much pain he had carried.


    Her heart beat faster.


    She touched his forehead. It was a little hot. She took the cloth Mira gave her, dipped it in cool water, and pressed it gently against his skin.


    She moved slowly, wiping his chest, then his arms. She was careful not to touch the wounds. She didn¡¯t know why she was doing it so gently. Maybe because he looked so... fragile.


    Her fingers brushed his hair.


    Suddenly, he stirred.


    His lips moved. His eyes opened a little. Just a crack. He looked at her¡ªbut not really. His eyes were distant, blurred.


    "...Mother?"


    Lydia froze.


    He blinked slowly, his eyes barely staying open. "Is it... you?"


    She didn¡¯t speak. Her throat felt tight. He couldn¡¯t see her clearly¡ªonly her shape and the light behind her hair.


    His hand moved slightly, trying to reach her. Then he passed out again.


    Lydia sat there, holding the wet cloth, staring at him.


    Minutes Later


    Lydia kept sitting by the bed, watching him. The cloth in her hand had gone warm, so she dipped it in the bowl again and wrung it out. She touched his arm, slowly, as if she was afraid to wake him. Her fingers trailed over one of the scars on his shoulder. It was old¡ªfaded and deep.


    "How many battles have you fought?" she whispered.


    Her fingers moved to his collarbone, then paused. She didn¡¯t know why she was so curious. Maybe it was because he looked so different from anyone she had ever known. So quiet, so broken. And yet... strong.


    She brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. Her hand lingered there for a moment longer than it should have. She moved her fingers slowly down to his jaw.


    Then¡ª


    "Mm-hmm." A quiet voice behind her cleared a throat.


    Lydia gasped and pulled her hand away quickly. Her face turned red as she turned around to see the woman from before¡ªMira¡ªstanding at the door with her arms crossed and a knowing smile.


    "He¡¯s handsome, isn¡¯t he?" Mira said, walking in with a folded blanket in her hands.


    "What? No¡ªI mean¡ªyes¡ªbut no! I wasn¡¯t¡ªI was just¡ª" Lydia fumbled, trying to find her words.


    Mira chuckled. "You don¡¯t have to lie. It¡¯s written all over your face."


    "I was just making sure he¡¯s okay," Lydia said, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Mira nodded, setting the blanket down. "Of course. And I¡¯m sure he¡¯s very grateful. If he ever wakes up, I¡¯ll make sure to tell him a pretty girl saved his life."


    Lydia looked down, trying to hide her face.


    Mira leaned against the wall. "You should get some rest. Dawn¡¯s not far. If you want to catch the ship to Velinograd, you¡¯ll need your strength."


    Lydia didn¡¯t answer right away. She looked back at the man on the bed. His chest rose and fell slowly. He was still out cold, but his face looked a little more at peace now.


    Mira smiled. "Don¡¯t worry. When he wakes up, I¡¯ll tell him you sat here all night, staring at him like a lovesick deer. Who knows he may come looking for you." sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I wasn¡¯t staring!" Lydia said quickly, but her voice cracked at the end.


    Mira laughed softly and left the room, leaving the door half-open.


    Lydia stayed for a little while longer. She looked at his hand resting on the blanket, then at his face. She wanted to know his name. She wanted to know who he was, what happened to him, and why he had so many scars. She didn¡¯t even know why she cared. But she did.


    Her eyelids grew heavy. She shifted in the chair, leaned her head on the edge of the bed, and soon, her breathing slowed.


    She fell asleep like that, beside him.


    Meanwhile, far from the quiet house in the forest, back at the Andreyevna estate, the night was still.


    Alexander suddenly sat up in bed. His heart was racing, and he didn¡¯t know why. Something felt wrong. He rubbed his eyes and got up. The halls were quiet, but he didn¡¯t stop to think. He walked straight to Lydia¡¯s room.


    He knocked once.


    "Lydia?" he called softly.


    No answer.


    He knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.


    He frowned and pushed the door open.


    The room was dark, and the window curtains swayed in the breeze. The bed was empty. Blankets untouched. The pillows still fluffed.


    He stepped inside, eyes scanning every corner.


    "Lydia?" he called again, louder this time.


    But she wasn¡¯t there.


    He stared at the empty bed. His chest tightened.


    She was gone.

 Chapter 9: Dawn Of Hopelessness

    Chapter 9: Dawn Of HopelessnessImmediately, Alexander snapped. He roared like a mad dog.


    "Where did she go?!" he bellowed. "Where is she!"


    His voice echoed through the walls. Within seconds, the entire household woke up. Servants came rushing, confused and frightened. Some held candles, others just stood still in the hallway, rubbing sleep from their eyes.


    "WHERE IS SHE!" he shouted again. "I knew something was wrong. The way she stood, so calm, so composed like she had nothing to lose!"


    No one replied.


    "Speak!" he barked. "Where is Lady Lydia?"


    The servants looked down at their feet. No one dared to speak. Daria stood quietly beside Galina, her hands shaking slightly. She could feel it coming.


    Alexander picked up a vase from the table and flung it at the wall. It missed by inches.


    "I said¡ª" he turned, eyes wild, "¡ªwhere is she?!"


    Still, silence.


    Then suddenly, he grabbed another vase¡ªthis one heavier¡ªand threw it straight at Galina. It hit her on the side of her forehead. She let out a short cry and fell to her knees, her hand on the bleeding wound.


    "Are you helping her?!" he roared, walking toward her with fire in his eyes.


    "Stop! Please!" Daria shouted, stepping between him and Galina. "Please, I¡¯ll tell you! Don¡¯t hurt her!"


    He froze.


    Daria was shaking, her hands raised. "She left. She left last night. She went through the back door. She¡¯s heading for the docks... she plans to leave by ship."


    Alexander stared at her, breathing heavily, his jaw clenched. Then he turned to his men.


    "Find her," he ordered coldly. "I don¡¯t care how far she¡¯s gone. Find her and bring her back." S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You!" Alexander said, referring to Daria. "You better pray to the gods that they find her on time or you¡¯ll regret the day you were born."


    Hours passed. Dawn broke.


    Lydia was woken up by a soft shake. She opened her eyes slowly.


    "Lydia," Mira whispered. "It¡¯s morning. Time to go."


    Lydia sat up, still feeling the weight of the night before. She turned to look at the man still lying unconscious on the bed. Ivan hadn¡¯t moved.


    Mira handed her a cloth-wrapped piece of bread. "Eat this on the ship. It¡¯s fresh."


    Lydia stood and looked at Mira and Pavel. "Thank you... for everything."


    Mira smiled softly. "Go. We¡¯ll handle the rest."


    She mounted her horse and rode off. The sky was still faint with pink and orange. Birds chirped quietly as the wind brushed past her cheeks. She didn¡¯t look back.


    At the docks, people were already gathering. Some were loading crates. Others stood in line, holding money, waiting to buy tickets.


    Lydia joined the queue.


    It was almost her turn when she heard hurried footsteps.


    She looked behind.


    Three men were walking straight toward her. Her heart sank.


    She recognized them.


    Her uncle¡¯s guards.


    She turned to run but didn¡¯t get far. The third man caught her arm and yanked her back.


    "Lady Lydia," he said, breathing hard. "You¡¯re coming with us."


    Back at the Andreyevna house, the air was thick with tension.


    The guards burst into the sitting room, dragging Lydia in.


    "We found her, my lord," one said.


    Alexander stood up. Before Lydia could even speak, his hand flew across her face.


    SLAP!


    She stumbled back and hit the floor.


    "You ungrateful child!" he shouted. "I should¡¯ve known! I should¡¯ve known! All these years of raising you, this is how you repay me?"


    He stormed toward her, yanked her bag from her hands, and opened it. There, shining in the morning light, was her mother¡¯s ruby jewelry.


    He scoffed. "So you were the one who took this," he sneered. "I searched for it for years."


    He turned to the maids. "Galina! Daria! You¡¯re fired! Pack your things and get out of my house! You¡¯ve been poisoning her mind!"


    "No, please!" Galina cried, still holding her wounded head.


    "Don¡¯t do this," Daria begged. "She¡¯s just a child, she was scared!"


    Lydia slowly stood up, shaking. Her cheek still burned from the slap.


    "Please..." she whispered, voice hoarse. "Don¡¯t fire them. I¡¯ll do anything you want. I¡¯ll marry the Count. I won¡¯t run again. I swear it."


    Alexander didn¡¯t blink.


    "If you fire them," Lydia said louder, "I¡¯ll jump from my window. I¡¯ll break my legs or kill myself. Then you¡¯ll never get your marriage or your deal."


    Silence.


    Alexander stepped forward and stared at her coldly.


    "It hasn¡¯t come to that," he said in a calm but cruel tone. "They¡¯ll stay. But if you ever try something stupid again, don¡¯t worry about them being fired."


    He looked at Daria and Galina.


    "I¡¯ll sell them as slaves," he said. "Or kill them myself."


    Back at the cottage, Pavel was ready to leave.


    "I¡¯ll go to the palace," he told Mira. "Someone has to report this."


    She nodded. "Be careful."


    Ivan was still unconscious on the bed, breathing shallowly.


    At the Andreyevna house, Lydia was in her room.


    Galina and Daria helped her into a warm bath. She didn¡¯t speak. She just cried, quietly, endlessly.


    She looked up and saw the cut on Galina¡¯s head. "I¡¯m sorry," she choked. "This is all my fault. I was selfish. I didn¡¯t think."


    Daria sat beside the tub and sighed. "It¡¯s not your fault."


    Galina touched her shoulder gently. "You¡¯re not selfish. You¡¯re brave. You did what any girl would do. You tried to save yourself."


    "But now you¡¯re hurt," Lydia said. "And he wants to throw you away because of me."


    Galina shook her head. "I¡¯m not mad at you. I¡¯ll never be mad at you. He¡¯s cruel. That¡¯s not on you."


    She looked at Daria, then back at Lydia. "You¡¯re not going to marry that Count."


    "How?" Lydia whispered.


    "Write to your godmother," Galina said. "The Queen¡¯s cousin."


    Daria blinked. "Your godmother?"


    Galina nodded. "She won¡¯t let this happen. If anyone can help, it¡¯s her."


    Meanwhile, back at the cottage, Pavel returned¡ªthis time with guards.


    The head guard stepped into the house with two others. Their eyes widened when they saw Ivan lying there, half-dead.


    "You found him," one of them breathed.


    "Thank you," the head guard told Mira and Pavel. "You¡¯ve saved someone important."


    Mira and Pavel looked at each other, confused.


    "Who is he?" Pavel asked.


    They didn¡¯t answer. They were already lifting Ivan up carefully.


    "We¡¯re taking him to the palace," the guard said.


    And just like that, they were gone.

 Chapter 10: A Cry For Help

    Chapter 10: A Cry For HelpThe guards quickly arrived at the palace. Without wasting a second, they carried Ivan straight to his chambers. Immediately, the entire atmosphere changed. Servants scattered, and physicians started trooping in one by one, carrying boxes of herbs and cloth, all moving swiftly to attend to him.


    Not long after, King Vladimir rushed in, his face hard with concern. Queen Olga arrived beside him, her eyes wide. Leonid came running too, his eyes already filled with tears.


    "Is he okay?" Leonid cried, clinging to his mother¡¯s arm. "Will he be alright?"


    The physician looked up briefly. "He¡¯s alive. He will wake up soon. But he needs to rest. The wound was deep but not fatal."


    The king said nothing. He simply stood there, staring at Ivan in silence. After a few minutes, he turned and walked out, heading straight to the throne room.


    There, he asked the head guard in a calm but cold voice, "What happened?"


    The guard stepped forward. "Your Majesty... it was an assassination attempt. Someone tried to kill the Grand Duke. Luckily, he was saved and treated quickly."


    He paused before continuing. "The rebel... the one from the prison. He escaped. It has to be someone powerful who helped him. But the rebel is dead. The Grand Duke killed him during the attack."


    The king was silent for a moment. Then he spoke. "Whoever saved him¡ªreward them with whatever they desire. I want no hesitation."


    Meanwhile, in the queen¡¯s chambers, she sat on a cushioned chair, her face serious. The Grand Chamberlain stood before her, head bowed. He was the one who had released the rebel.


    He kept his head low. "Your Majesty... I¡¯m deeply sorry for what happened. It wasn¡¯t supposed to go this way."


    "And the rebel?" she asked sharply.


    "He¡¯s dead," the chamberlain replied.


    She leaned back slightly, letting out a breath. "Thank goodness... at least no one will trace it back to us."


    There was a pause before she added in a low voice, "That monster... he really didn¡¯t die. For twenty-four years I¡¯ve been trying. He really is a devil."


    Back at the Andreyevna house, Lydia sat by the desk in her room. She had written a few lines on the letter to her godmother, Irina. But then she stared at it, unsatisfied. It didn¡¯t feel strong enough. It wouldn¡¯t grab her attention.


    She tore the paper and picked another. This time, she only wrote two simple sentences:


    SAVE ME, GODMOTHER. YOU ARE MY ONLY HOPE. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She folded it quickly and handed it to Galina, who had just finished cleaning the room.


    Galina took it and hid it in the folds of her clothes. "I¡¯ll give it to her tomorrow morning when I leave for the market," she whispered.


    But just then, the door opened. Her uncle Alexander stepped in.


    "You are not to leave this room again until the day of the wedding," he said coldly. "Your meals will be eaten here. Everything she needs will be brought to you."


    He locked the door behind him.


    Her cousins stood outside the hallway. They heard everything. But none of them said a word.


    Except for Elena.


    Later that afternoon, she quietly made her way to her father¡¯s study. She knocked once before stepping in.


    "Father, please... this is too much. You can¡¯t treat her this way," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.


    Alexander didn¡¯t look up from his desk. "This is none of your concern."


    "It is," Elena insisted. "You¡¯re not helping her. You¡¯re trying to killing her. You don¡¯t want her to get married¡ªyou want to get rid of her. And for what? If she marries and I marry and so does Anya, all to other nobles, we¡¯ll all help the business. Why this cruelty?"


    He looked up slowly, his expression hard. "You¡¯re just like your mother. Soft. Always sticking your nose where it doesn¡¯t belong. Don¡¯t ever question me again, and don¡¯t start this kind of talk with me."


    Elena stared at him, her fists clenched. "Yes, I¡¯m like her. But I won¡¯t make the same mistake she did by marrying a cruel man like you."


    She turned and stormed out.


    "Elena!" he called. But she didn¡¯t stop. She ran straight to her room and locked the door.


    Back at the palace, the sun had set. Darkness had covered the skies.


    Ivan finally stirred. His eyelids moved slightly before opening. He looked around, confused and weak. He had a flashback of what had happened earlier. The fight. The stabbing. And the girl... she saved him. But he hadn¡¯t seen her face.


    The head guard had been sitting quietly by his bedside the whole time. As soon as Ivan¡¯s eyes opened, the guard stood quickly and stepped out to the hallway.


    "Your Highness! You are awake?"


    He called out to a servant, "Tell the Czar. He¡¯s awake."

 Chapter 11: Lost Hopes

    Chapter 11: Lost HopesVladimir ran quickly to Ivan¡¯s room, his face drawn with worry and concern. As soon as he entered, he found Ivan awake but cold and distant. Ivan tried to leave the bed, pushing himself up weakly, but a sharp pain shot through him, and he was forced to fall back against the pillows, his face tightening.


    "I want to sleep," Ivan said, turning his face away. "Leave."


    The servants and guards exchanged glances but obeyed. Vladimir stood there for a moment longer, as if wanting to say something, but in the end, he said nothing. With a heavy heart, he turned and left with the others, closing the door behind them.


    Meanwhile, back at the Andreyevna house, Lydia sat by her window, staring quietly at the night sky. The stars blinked faintly, blurred by the tears in her eyes. A soft knock came at her door. She turned, surprised. A moment later, she heard the sound of the lock turning. Slowly, the door opened, and Elena stepped inside, carrying a tray.


    "I brought your dinner," Elena said in a small voice. She placed the tray on the small table by the bed and turned to her. "I¡¯m sorry... for Father. I tried to talk to him but..." Her voice broke, and she shook her head helplessly. "I¡¯m so sorry, Lydia. I wish I could do something to help you."


    Lydia smiled sadly and hugged her tightly. "It¡¯s not your fault, Elena. Don¡¯t cry. It¡¯s okay."


    They stayed like that for a moment, two girls bound by helplessness in a house that grew colder each day.


    The next morning came slowly.


    Ivan was feeling a little better, though his body was still weak and sore. He stood in the king¡¯s throne room, dressed simply, his posture straight despite the pain he was clearly holding back.


    "I will be leaving," Ivan said flatly.


    King Vladimir frowned deeply. "You can¡¯t leave. You could barely move last night. And we still don¡¯t know who was behind the assassination attempt. It¡¯s not safe. You must stay for days so you get better."


    Ivan let out a short, dry laugh. "Stop pretending to care. You don¡¯t care about me. You only care about Zolotoria and your position as the Czar. To you, I¡¯m nothing but a shield to secure your throne."


    The king said nothing. His mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to speak, but the words refused to come. His face fell in sadness, but he remained silent.


    Without waiting for a reply, Ivan turned and left the throne room. His steps were slow but steady, each movement stiff with pain.


    On his way back to his chambers, he ran into Leonid, who had been waiting in the hall with a worried expression.


    "Brother... are you okay¡ª" Leonid started, but before he could say more, Ivan coldly brushed past him.


    "Don¡¯t touch me," he said sharply, and without sparing another glance, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving Leonid standing there alone, his small hands trembling at his sides.


    As soon as Ivan entered his chambers, he found Olga standing by the window, arms crossed. She turned at the sound of the door, her face arranged into a mask of concern.


    "I heard you woke up last night," she said in a sweet voice that held no real warmth. "I just came to check if you were okay. Since you are okay I will take my leave."


    She turned as if to leave, but Ivan¡¯s voice stopped her.


    "To check if I was okay," he repeated slowly, "or to see if I had died?"


    Olga froze for a moment, then glanced over her shoulder, her face hardening.


    "I know it¡¯s you who arranged the assassination," Ivan said, his voice low. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She smirked coldly. "Can you prove it?" she asked softly. "If you can¡¯t, then shut your mouth, recover quickly, and leave. This is the palace, Grand Duke. You need evidence to accuse someone here."


    Without waiting for a reply, she left, the door clicking softly behind her.


    Back at the Andreyevna house, Lydia was being bathed by Daria. The water was cold against her skin, and Daria¡¯s hands moved quickly, trying to finish before anyone walked in.


    "You shouldn¡¯t worry," Daria said, rinsing Lydia¡¯s hair gently. "Galina went to the market early this morning. I¡¯m sure you must have given her the letter by now. Don¡¯t worry, everything will be alright."


    Lydia gave a weak nod, her mind elsewhere.


    Not long after, Galina returned, slipping into Lydia¡¯s room with careful steps. She closed the door quietly behind her and came closer, her face twisted in worry.


    "I went to the house," Galina said, her voice low. "But... your godmother was not there. They said she travelled to Vetrinka."


    Lydia¡¯s heart sank. "Vetrinka?" she repeated, her voice cracking.


    Galina nodded. "No one knows when she will be back. So... I left the letter with the head maid."


    For a long moment, Lydia sat still, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.


    All she could do now was hope ¡ª and wait her godmother comes back on time..

 Chapter 12: A Deal With The Devil

    Chapter 12: A Deal With The DevilAs soon as Galina left, Lydia was left alone again. She sat quietly on the bed, holding her book, flipping through the pages without really reading.


    A soft knock came at the door. Before she could answer, her uncle walked in. His expression was as cold as always.


    "The dressmaker is here," he said, his voice calm but sharp. "Would you prefer coming down, or shall she come up?"


    Lydia didn¡¯t even lift her head.


    "She can come up," she answered quietly.


    Not long after, the dressmaker came bustling into the room, carrying rolls of fabric and a small wooden box. She was a cheerful woman, always ready with something to say.


    As she fitted Lydia¡¯s corset, she started gossiping without shame.


    "Poor child," she said while tugging at the laces. "Imagine Lord Alexander marrying you off to a man four times your age. It¡¯s a crime, if you ask me."


    Lydia said nothing, just stared at the mirror in front of her.


    "If it were me," the dressmaker chuckled, "I¡¯d count myself lucky. A count! A grand house! Jewels! I¡¯d be the luckiest girl alive."


    She winked at Lydia, expecting her to laugh along.


    Lydia stayed silent. Her hands gripped the edge of her seat.


    Soon after, Elena and Anya came into the room. By then, the first fitting was done. Even though the gown wasn¡¯t finished, Lydia already looked breathtaking. The dress hugged her slim waist and flowed down in soft folds.


    Anya clapped her hands.


    "You look beautiful, Lydia. Just like Aunt Anastasia."


    The dressmaker nodded. "It¡¯s a shame, really. A beautiful bride deserves a beautiful groom."


    Tears filled Lydia¡¯s eyes as she looked at her own reflection.


    Elena saw it first.


    "Enough," she said sharply.


    Anya and the dressmaker immediately fell silent.


    The dressmaker, trying to lighten the mood, smiled and said,


    "Don¡¯t you worry, my lady. The dress will be the most beautiful thing anyone has ever seen. Go ahead and change back."


    Lydia nodded. She changed into her simple day dress without a word.


    The rest of the day passed quietly. Lydia lay in bed with her eyes closed, wishing the world would disappear.


    In his chamber in the palace, Ivan was doing the same.


    Early the next morning, while Lydia still lay in bed half-asleep, the sound of carriage wheels broke the silence outside.


    Galina and Daria came rushing into her room.


    "My lady, wake up! Lady Irina is here!"


    They helped her bathe and dress quickly. Her heart pounded. She hadn¡¯t seen Irina in so long.


    Downstairs, outside the house, Alexander stood talking to one of his ship captains. The man had just finished reporting something when Alexander turned and saw her.


    Irina.


    She stepped down from the carriage, black hair tied neatly back, pale skin almost glowing against her dark traveling cloak. Her sharp blue eyes locked onto him without fear. Even after all these years, she was still striking. Pretty, even, despite the lines at the corners of her eyes.


    Alexander scoffed under his breath.


    "I knew that girl would send for you," he muttered.


    He walked up to her with a smirk.


    "You¡¯re wasting your time. Lady Lydia is not to receive any visitors today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that. Not until she¡¯s married."


    Irina didn¡¯t even blink.


    "You have no right to stop me," she said, her voice loud and clear. "I swore before a priest to guard that girl with my life. And you¡ª" she narrowed her eyes¡ª "would do well to remember who I am. I am a baroness. And cousin to the queen."


    Alexander¡¯s mouth clamped shut.


    "Now," Irina said, lifting her chin, "get her. I¡¯ll be waiting here."


    In Lydia¡¯s room, Galina and Daria were fast at work, dressing her as quickly as they could. Her hands trembled as they buttoned up her bodice.


    The moment she was ready, she rushed down the stairs.


    The moment she saw Irina standing there, she ran straight into her arms.


    "My darling girl," Irina whispered, holding her tightly. "I came as fast as I could. You have endured enough."


    Tears streamed down Lydia¡¯s face as she clung to her.


    Without waiting another moment, Irina led her to the carriage. They climbed in, and the horses pulled them away from the house. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Inside the carriage, Lydia wiped her tears and asked in a small voice,


    "Where are we going?"


    Irina smiled gently.


    "I have an idea," she said. "I can¡¯t cancel your marriage to Count Viktor. If I try, your uncle will only do worse. But I know someone who can help. Someone your uncle fears. A powerful woman who can defy all laws."


    Lydia stared at her.


    "The queen?"


    Irina nodded.


    By the time they reached the palace, the sun had risen high in the sky. The guards recognized Irina at once and opened the gates without question.


    Lydia looked around in awe. It had been so long since she last saw the grand marble halls, the golden walls, the shining chandeliers. She remembered coming here as a child for royal events with her parents. After their death, her uncle had kept her away from the court.


    Nothing had changed.


    They were led straight to Queen Olga¡¯s private chamber.


    When they entered, Olga was sitting in a high-backed chair, reading a book. She looked up, her face unreadable.


    Both Lydia and Irina bowed low.


    "Who is this girl?" Olga asked at once, her voice sharp.


    "My goddaughter," Irina said.


    "And why are you here?" the queen asked, closing her book. "What was so urgent that you came running to me the moment you returned?"


    Irina explained everything.


    Olga listened quietly, then turned her sharp gaze on Lydia.


    "And is it true?"


    Lydia¡¯s heart hammered in her chest. She could barely get the words out.


    "Y-Yes, Your Majesty," she stammered.


    The queen leaned back in her chair.


    "So what?" she said coldly. "You¡¯re here because you don¡¯t want to marry an old man? Is that all? Then leave. I have no time for girls running away from marriage."


    The words hit Lydia like a slap.


    But she didn¡¯t move.


    She dropped to her knees. Tears streamed down her face.


    "Please, Your Majesty," she cried. "I can¡¯t marry him. Please save me. You are my only."


    Olga gave a cold laugh. She called for her grand chamberlain.


    Just as he entered to escort them out, Lydia shouted again.


    "I will do anything! Please! Anything!"


    Olga stopped. She raised an eyebrow.


    "Anything?"


    "Yes," Lydia sobbed.


    The queen waved her hand at the grand chamberlain to step back.


    She rose from her chair and came closer, looking Lydia over slowly.


    "Such a beautiful child," she said. "It would be a shame to waste you on an old count."


    Lydia¡¯s heart skipped.


    "I won¡¯t cancel your marriage," Olga said, her voice low.


    Lydia¡¯s breath caught.


    "We¡¯ll change the groom."

 Chapter 13: A Hopeless Hope

    Chapter 13: A Hopeless HopeLydia¡¯s face turned pale, like she had just seen a ghost. She couldn¡¯t say anything. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out.


    Irina was the first to speak.


    "This is too much, Your Majesty," she said, turning to Olga with anger flashing in her eyes. "She came to you for help, to escape a terrible marriage. And this is what you offer her? An even more terrible one. Are you trying to kill her? Of all people for her to marry... him..."


    Olga didn¡¯t even flinch. She sat there, cold and calm, like she was watching something beneath her.


    "I am not a matchmaker, Irina," she said. "If you think my decision is too much, then leave. I¡¯m handing everything to her on a silver platter, and all I ask is a small price."


    Irina turned to Lydia and said sharply, "We¡¯re leaving."


    Lydia could barely move. She just followed, her mind blank.


    As they were about to step out, Olga¡¯s voice rang out behind them.


    "Think about it, Lydia. You have three days."


    The carriage ride back was silent. Irina stared out the window, fuming.


    "I should have known better than to trust that witch," she muttered.


    Lydia said nothing. She just sat there, feeling smaller and smaller inside.


    Before Lydia could even catch her breath, things got worse.


    The moment she stepped back inside the house, Alexander was already waiting, sitting there with a smirk on his face.


    "I have good news," he said, standing up. "I just spoke to the priest. Your wedding won¡¯t be in two weeks anymore. It¡¯ll be in three days."


    Lydia¡¯s heart sank.


    "Rest for today," he added. "Tomorrow we¡¯ll start the wedding plans."


    It felt like the world was spinning around her.


    The marriage she had spent every second dreading... was now three days away.


    And the only escape ¡ª the queen¡¯s offer ¡ª made her even more confused.


    That night, Elena sneaked into her room.


    "I heard what Father did," she whispered. "I really thought Lady Irina would help you."


    Lydia sat up in bed, her voice low.


    "Elena... what do you think about getting married to the Grand Duke Ivan Romanov?"


    Elena froze. She looked uneasy.


    "I don¡¯t know much... but from what everyone says... it would be terrifying," she said. "They say he¡¯s a cruel man."


    "Why do you as?" Elena asked confused and curious.


    "No reason. I was just wondering," Lydia lied trying to brush off anymore questions.


    After a while, Elena left back to her room. Lydia didn¡¯t sleep that night.


    The next morning, just when she thought she couldn¡¯t feel worse, Count Viktor came to visit again.


    This time, he made her blood boil.


    He started talking about how he didn¡¯t believe in the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding.


    "Your parents claimed they never met before marriage too," he said with a nasty smile. "Yet your mother gave birth in only eight months. Some tradition, isn¡¯t it?"


    Lydia clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She held it in... at first.


    But when he insulted her parents, she snapped.


    "Over my dead body will I marry you!" she screamed, pushing past him and running straight to her room.


    She locked the door and collapsed on the floor, shaking with anger.


    It didn¡¯t take long before she heard heavy footsteps pounding toward her door.


    Alexander¡¯s voice thundered outside.


    "Open this door, Lydia!"


    When she didn¡¯t, he forced it open, slamming it against the wall.


    His face was red with rage.


    "You will marry the Count whether you like it or not!" he barked. "Even if I have to drag you to the church myself!"


    The rest of the day, Lydia didn¡¯t leave her bed.


    She just lay there, her heart feeling like it had been torn apart.


    Later, the door creaked open again. It was her uncle.


    "The dressmaker is here," he said coldly.


    The dressmaker had finished her work.


    The gown was now fully stoned and detailed, and when Lydia tried it on, she looked like a dream.


    Even the dressmaker gasped a little.


    "It¡¯s beautiful," she said, fixing the last little details. "I almost didn¡¯t finish it on time. I had to work on the queen¡¯s dress too. I will be delivering it the moment I am done with you."


    That was when everything clicked.


    A spark lit up in Lydia¡¯s mind.


    She had only one way left to escape this marriage ¡ª the queen¡¯s offer.


    While pretending to adjust her dress, Lydia quickly tore a tiny piece of paper and scribbled something on it.


    She folded it tightly into a little square.


    When the dressmaker wasn¡¯t looking, Lydia whispered, "Please... hide this for me. Give it to the queen. Tell her it¡¯s from me. Please don¡¯t let my uncle see it."


    The dressmaker nodded without a word, slipping the note into her pocket.


    It was Lydia¡¯s last hope.

 Chapter 14: Decree Of Royal Doom

    Chapter 14: Decree Of Royal DoomImmediately after the dressmaker left Lydia¡¯s room, she clutched the bundle in her hands and tiptoed out, her heart hammering. She prayed not to run into anyone. But just as she turned the corner, she bumped straight into Alexander.


    The force made her stagger, and the note slipped from her fingers. Her face went pale. Alexander caught her by the shoulders to steady her and frowned.


    "Why are you in such a hurry?" he asked, suspicious.


    Lydia lowered her head, avoiding his gaze. "I have to deliver the queen¡¯s dress," she stammered, not wanting to explain more.


    Alexander grunted, stepping aside. "Then you must hurry."


    Relief flooded her, and she almost dashed off, but his voice stopped her.


    "Wait," he said, bending down.


    She froze, her heart skipping a beat. He picked up the note. She could feel her stomach twist as he glanced at it, but he didn¡¯t seem interested, simply handing it back to her.


    Her heart almost jumped out of her chest. If he had opened it...


    To be fair, Alexander didn¡¯t think much about it. He probably thought it was just some sewing measurements or a list of fabrics.


    "Be careful next time," he muttered, turning away. "You wouldn¡¯t want the queen to be kept waiting."


    She nodded quickly, clutching the note tightly as she made her way toward the palace.


    When she arrived, Queen Olga was already waiting. She admired the dress with a cold smile.


    "It¡¯s beautiful. You may go," the queen said, dismissing her with a wave of her hand.


    The dressmaker swallowed hard, but before leaving, she hesitated and, with trembling hands, handed her the note instead.


    "Your Majesty... a note from Lady Lydia Andreyevna."


    The queen unfolded it, her sharp eyes scanning the brief message: "I will do it."


    A wicked smile curled her lips as she read.


    "Perfect," she murmured to herself, eyes gleaming. "She has agreed."


    She quickly waved the dressmaker away. "Go now, and inform the others. I have much to prepare."


    Without a second thought, she hurried to find Czar Vladimir.


    They met privately in a quiet room. The queen wasted no time, speaking in hushed but urgent tones about the wedding.


    "You know, the Andreyevnas own over twenty large ships ¡ª something we desperately need," Olga said, her voice laced with urgency. "Especially with tensions rising against neighboring kingdoms."


    "I know that but where are you going to with this?" Vladimir asked out of curiosity.


    "Let¡¯s have have Ivan get married to Lydia Andreyevna. That way you can have access to their ships and it will also give Ivan backing." Olga added.


    Vladimir rubbed his beard, frowning deeply. "It¡¯s too sudden," he muttered. "And Ivan may not agree to it. You know how he is.".


    "I know. Think about Ivan too," Olga added with a fake worry, "he is still injured. He is eager to return back to . Everyone there fears him. Who will tend to his wounds."


    "I know. You¡¯re right. But he may not agree" Vladimir said still unsure.


    Olga shrugged, a sly smile playing on her lips. "If we delay, she might marry someone else. Besides, you are the Czar. You control everything. He doesn¡¯t have to agree. It¡¯s for his protection."


    The Czar stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. After a long pause, he sighed heavily. "Fine," he said reluctantly.


    That very evening, the peaceful quiet at the Andreyevna estate was shattered by the loud clatter of horses. A royal coach gleamed under the moonlight as it stopped at the front steps. Servants and family members hurried outside, confused and murmuring.


    Alexander pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed. "What¡¯s going on?" he demanded.


    A man in royal uniform ¡ª the royal herald ¡ª stepped down and unrolled a scroll sealed with the royal insignia.


    "In the name of His Majesty, Czar Vladimir Romanov," the herald proclaimed in a booming voice, "Lady Lydia Andreyevna is hereby engaged to His Imperial Highness, Grand Duke Ivan Romanov. The wedding shall take place in two days¡¯ time."


    Gasps filled the courtyard. Whispers began immediately. News of it would spread like wildfire across the kingdom before morning.


    Alexander stood frozen, disbelief etched on his face. He stormed into the house and straight to Lydia¡¯s chambers.


    She sat calmly by the window, reading a book as if nothing had happened. She didn¡¯t even look up when he barged in.


    "Explain yourself!" he barked, his frustration boiling over. "How did you suddenly get engaged to the grand duke?!"


    Lydia turned a page lazily, then said without emotion, "How would I know? You locked me up for days, remember? Besides, it¡¯s the king¡¯s order. It¡¯s not like I can refuse."


    His face twisted with anger. "So that¡¯s where that hag took you. I won¡¯t let you win, Lydia."


    She finally looked up, her eyes cold. "And what will you do? Break a royal decree? Lose all our heads?" she said with a soft, mocking smile.


    She set the book down slowly and stood, walking toward him with deliberate slowness.


    "You were the one desperate to see me marry a powerful man. Now I¡¯m marrying the most powerful one ¡ª and you¡¯re complaining. Why? Are you scared that once I¡¯m Grand Duchess, I¡¯ll throw you out and take back everything you stole?"


    Her words stung like a slap. Alexander opened his mouth, but no words came out.


    She stopped in front of him, her gaze steady and unyielding. "Don¡¯t worry," she said quietly. "I¡¯m not like you. I won¡¯t hurt my cousins. They aren¡¯t cruel like you are."


    Her voice was so calm it made his blood run cold.


    "I would like to have a good night¡¯s sleep," Lydia said, opening her door wider gesturing her should leave. "I have a lot to do. I¡¯m getting married in two days."


    Alexander stared at her, speechless. He turned sharply and left her room, his mind spinning. He needed answers.


    At the palace, the throne room doors slammed open as Ivan stormed inside. His face was red with rage.


    "You can¡¯t do this!" Ivan shouted at Czar Vladimir. "I won¡¯t marry the Andreyevna girl ¡ª whoever she is!"


    Before he could finish, Vladimir¡¯s voice thundered through the hall.


    "I wasn¡¯t asking you, Ivan. It¡¯s an order!"


    Ivan clenched his fists, trembling with fury. The Queen sat calmly by the Czar¡¯s side, a pleased smile on her lips as she watched Ivan¡¯s outburst.


    Realizing he was powerless, Ivan turned and stormed out, the heavy doors rattling behind him.


    Not long after, Alexander was brought in. He approached quietly, bowing low.


    "I seek to understand," Alexander said carefully, his voice steady but full of frustration. "My cousin was already engaged. Preparations were underway. This sudden change..."


    Olga¡¯s voice cut through the room like ice.


    "Good," she said coolly. "Then your preparations won¡¯t be wasted."


    She leaned forward slightly, her lips curling into a smile.


    "There will still be a wedding ¡ª just with a better groom. So why the complaints?"


    Her gaze fixed on him, piercing and full of expectation.


    "Unless, of course, you have some secret reason for objecting to a royal order?"


    Alexander¡¯s mouth opened, but no words came out.


    Czar Vladimir stood, his robes sweeping the floor as he looked down at Alexander with cold authority. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "The matter is closed," he declared. "The wedding is final."


    Alexander had no choice but to bow again and retreat, biting back the anger and fear that swirled inside him.

 Chapter 15: The Wrong Decision

    Chapter 15: The Wrong DecisionMorning light came through the curtains. Lydia lay in her bed, wide awake. She couldn¡¯t sleep all night. Her body was tired, but her mind kept racing with thoughts.


    She acted brave yesterday. She acted strong. But deep down, she was scared. Very scared. She had said yes to marrying the Grand Duke - a man everyone feared.


    What if she made a bad choice? What if he was worse than what people said about him?


    The door opened. Galina walked in, and Lydia¡¯s worried thoughts stopped for a moment.


    "Still in bed?" Galina asked, opening the curtains wider.


    Lydia squinted at the bright light. "I couldn¡¯t sleep."


    Galina sat on the edge of the bed. Her face showed worry. "Sweetheart, the Grand Duke is a cruel person. Everyone knows this." She took Lydia¡¯s hands. "Please think again about your choice. Who knows what might happen when you marry him. He might hurt you..." Her voice got quieter. "Worse, he might ki¡ª"


    "Don¡¯t worry, Galina," Lydia cut her off with a fake smile. "Everything will be okay."


    It was a lie. Lydia wasn¡¯t okay at all. But she didn¡¯t want to talk about her fears.


    ---


    At breakfast, no one talked. They all kept looking at Lydia with worried eyes. When she looked back at them, they quickly looked away. The only sound was forks and knives against plates.


    Pyotr spoke first. "Is it true, Lydia, that you are marrying the Grand Duke?" His voice showed both wonder and worry. "That means you¡¯ll become a Grand Duchess. You might be Queen one day. Isn¡¯t that right?"


    Before Lydia could answer, Mikhail jumped in. "But isn¡¯t the Grand Duke scary? My friends at school say he¡¯s like the devil."


    Across the table, Anya made signals with her hands for him to stop talking.


    "Mikhail, enough," Elena said softly but firmly.


    Everyone was quiet again. Alexander, sitting at the head of the table, wasn¡¯t eating. He just sat there, sighing. He had nothing to say.


    Finally, he stood up. "I¡¯m going to the church to check if things are ready for the wedding," he said flatly. He looked at Lydia. "Finish your food and meet me outside. We¡¯ll go together."


    ---


    In the palace, Ivan sat by the window in his room. He watched clouds move across the sky. The quiet morning was very different from his troubled thoughts.


    Someone knocked on the door. "Come in," he called.


    Boris, the head guard, walked in, standing straight and tall. "Your Highness."


    "Did you find her?" Ivan asked right away. "The girl who saved me?"


    Boris looked confused. "Your Highness, I went to a cottage with a middle-aged couple. There was no girl there."


    "I¡¯m sure I heard a girl¡¯s voice," Ivan said, turning back to the window. "And I saw her. She had blonde hair."


    Boris paused. "I¡¯m going back to the cottage soon. The Czar wants me to give the couple a reward. I¡¯ll ask about the girl when I¡¯m there."


    ---


    The carriage moved along the street. Alexander and Lydia sat across from each other, not talking. As they passed the church, Lydia looked confused.


    "Uncle, I thought we were going to the church," she said, looking out the window. "Where are we going?"


    "To the palace," Alexander said, looking straight ahead.


    "Why?"


    "We¡¯re going to ask the Czar to stop this crazy marriage." His voice got louder. "Can you believe what they asked for your dowry? Three ships! Who asks for that?" He leaned forward. "If you tell the Czar you don¡¯t want this, he might listen. Then we can forget all this and have your real marriage to Count Viktor tomorrow."


    "No!" Lydia said sharply. "I will marry the Grand Duke. I don¡¯t care if he¡¯s a devil or a monster. If marrying him means I don¡¯t have to marry Viktor, then I will." She knocked on the roof of the carriage. "Stop here, please!"


    Alexander grabbed her wrist. "Keep going," he called to the driver.


    Lydia pulled her hand away hard. "Stop dreaming, Uncle. I¡¯m marrying the Grand Duke tomorrow. No matter what you do, that¡¯s what will happen." Her eyes narrowed. "And if you try to stop me or lock me up, you could lose your head for not following a royal order."


    Without waiting for him to answer, she pushed the carriage door open and jumped out. "I¡¯m going for a walk," she said, turning her back on her uncle¡¯s shocked face. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ---


    Night came. After dinner and a bath, Lydia sat on her bed in her nightgown. Her wet hair hung down her back. She was tired from the day, but she knew sleep would be hard to find again.


    A soft knock came at the door. "Come in," she called.


    Elena walked in and closed the door quietly. Her face showed worry. "I wanted to check on you before bed," she said, sitting next to Lydia. "I¡¯m scared for you. Are you sure you¡¯re making the right choice?"


    "I¡¯m fine," Lydia lied, not looking at Elena.


    Elena shook her head. "I know you¡¯re not telling the truth. Your choice is too extreme¡ª"


    "Would you rather I marry Count Viktor?" Lydia cut her off, anger in her voice.


    "No, no, that¡¯s not what I meant," Elena said quickly.


    "Then what do you mean? What should I do?" Lydia asked. "This is my only choice. You should understand me."


    "I do understand you... But I¡¯m worried you¡¯re making the wrong choice," Elena said.


    "Wrong choice?" Lydia¡¯s voice got louder. "Elena, Viktor talked about me like I was a prize to win. He even insulted my parents. If you can¡¯t understand me, then leave. I¡¯m marrying the Grand Duke tomorrow. That¡¯s final. I don¡¯t want to talk about it anymore. I need to rest. Goodnight, Elena."


    Elena¡¯s face fell. She looked hurt and worried. She got up quietly and left the room, closing the door softly.


    Alone again, Lydia lay back on her bed. She stared at the ceiling. She thought about tomorrow¡ªthe wedding, the Grand Duke, and her unknown future.


    Then, she thought about the injured stranger she had helped. She felt sad. If she married the Grand Duke tomorrow, they would go to Svetlania. She might never see the stranger again.


    That night, as she finally began to fall asleep, Lydia found herself hoping to see him just one more time before her life changed forever.

 Chapter 16: The Wedding To The Devil

    Chapter 16: The Wedding To The DevilThe sun slowly rose in the sky, painting it with soft pink and gold colors. A new day had begun. But this was not just any day¡ªit was the day of Ivan and Lydia¡¯s wedding.


    All the preparations for the big event were complete. The wedding would take place at the grand church in the center of town. Every important person in the kingdom was expected to attend. After the ceremony, everyone would go to the palace for a big celebration. Everything was ready.


    But Lydia¡¯s heart was not at peace. She woke up when it was still dark and sat by her window, looking at the sky as the first light appeared. Fear filled her chest like a heavy stone.


    Daria, her servant, came into the room to wake her up. She was surprised to see Lydia already awake.


    "My lady, you¡¯re up early," Daria said softly.


    "I couldn¡¯t sleep," Lydia replied, her voice thin with worry.


    Daria helped Lydia with her morning bath. As she brushed Lydia¡¯s long hair, Lydia kept looking at her wedding dress hanging nearby. The dress was beautiful¡ªmade of the finest white silk with delicate silver details¡ªbut today, nothing felt beautiful to her.


    ---


    At the royal palace, Ivan sat on the edge of his bed, lost in thought. Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. An unexpected visitor entered¡ªGeneral Alexei Petrov, the leader of the Zolotaria army. The General was in his fifties, with thick hair that was turning from dark to silver. A small scar ran across his right cheek, a reminder of a long-ago battle. His face was weather-beaten but kind, with laugh lines around his eyes.


    "So, the mighty Grand Duke sits alone on his wedding day!" General Petrov laughed loudly. "Why do you look so serious, Your Highness? This is supposed to be a happy day!"


    The General walked around the room, shaking his head. "I never thought I¡¯d see this day¡ªyou, getting married! And so suddenly, too. I hear your bride is very beautiful. That¡¯s good news at least!"


    Ivan said nothing, just looked at the General with cold eyes.


    "Please leave if you came here only to bother me," Ivan finally said.


    As the General was walking out, he turned at the door with a smile. "Oh, and Your Majesty¡ªplease dress nicely today. Don¡¯t even think about wearing that awful mask of yours."


    Ivan shook his head as the door closed.


    ---


    Soon, the wedding was about to begin. Important people had already started gathering at the church, filling the seats with colorful clothes and excited whispers.


    At the Andreyevna house, Lydia stood in front of a full-length mirror. She was wearing her wedding dress now. Her hair was pulled back into a low, elegant bun. She wore silver jewelry¡ªa necklace, earrings, and a small tiara with her veil. White gloves covered her hands. She looked like an angel from heaven.


    Galina and Daria, who had helped her get ready, couldn¡¯t help but gasp in wonder.


    "Oh, Miss Lydia!" Galina said, putting her hands to her mouth. "You look like a princess!"


    Lydia finally came down the stairs. Her cousins¡ªPyotr, Mikhail, Anya, and Elena¡ªall stared at her with wide eyes.


    "You look beautiful!" they all said together.


    Just then, her uncle Alexander came into the room. Unlike the others, he didn¡¯t look happy or surprised. His face was serious.


    "Since everyone is ready, we should leave now," he said coldly. "The carriage is waiting."


    As they were about to go outside, Count Viktor suddenly burst in, his face red with anger. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Alexander! You must explain this!" he shouted. "I traveled two days ago to talk about marriage, but now I return to hear that my bride is marrying the Grand Duke this morning?"


    Alexander began to stutter, trying to find words to explain.


    Lydia quickly stepped forward. "The marriage with you is off, Count Viktor," she said firmly. "I don¡¯t know why my uncle didn¡¯t tell you, but that arrangement was canceled long ago. I am to marry the Grand Duke today. It is a royal order, so you know it cannot be broken. If you have questions, ask my uncle."


    Count Viktor opened his mouth to speak, but Lydia cut him off.


    "You have no right to complain," she said. "After all, you made wedding plans without asking me, so it¡¯s only fair that we canceled them without asking you."


    She turned to her uncle. "Uncle, please deal with this later. I am late for my own wedding."


    Alexander quickly apologized to Count Viktor and promised to explain everything later.


    They immediately left in their carriages. There were three carriages¡ªElena and Anya in one, Pyotr, Mikhail, and Alexander in another, while Lydia rode in the third one.


    ---


    In the church, every seat was filled. It was time for the ceremony to begin.


    The royal family had arrived. First, Czar Vladimir and Queen Olga walked in. Everyone stood up. They walked to the front of the church and took their places. Then Prince Leonid was introduced, and he too took his place at the front.


    In the crowd, people whispered to each other about the mysterious groom.


    "I heard he wears a mask because he¡¯s as ugly as a monster," one woman whispered to her friend.


    "No, no," another replied. "They say his face was scratched by the devil himself!"


    "My cousin works in the palace," a man said to those around him. "She says he never shows his face to anyone¡ªnot even the servants!"


    Outside the church, Ivan was waiting. General Petrov came to him, helping him adjust his collar.


    "Nervous?" the General asked with a smile.


    "No," Ivan replied shortly.


    "You should be! Marriage is scarier than any battle I¡¯ve ever fought!" the General laughed at his own joke.


    Ivan did not laugh.


    Then, they announced the groom. Ivan walked into the church.


    To everyone¡¯s great surprise, he was far from ugly¡ªhe was incredibly handsome. The crowd had expected a monster, but instead they saw a young man with strong features and clear eyes. They were so shocked that everyone went completely quiet. Even the music stopped. Only whispers filled the church.


    Queen Olga had to shout, "Silence!" and ask for the wedding to continue.


    ---


    Meanwhile, Lydia was outside the church, feeling very nervous. Anya, Pyotr, and Mikhail had already gone inside. Only Lydia, Alexander, and Elena remained.


    Lydia was shaking with fear. Elena noticed and held her hands.


    "Are you okay?" Elena asked softly.


    Lydia shook her head. "No, I¡¯m too nervous."


    "Just breathe," Elena told her gently.


    Alexander looked at Lydia with cold eyes. "If you¡¯re so afraid, why did you agree to marry him? I can¡¯t tell if this is bravery or foolishness."


    Lydia was about to reply, but Elena spoke first.


    "Father, not now, please," she said firmly.


    Lydia felt better because of Elena¡¯s support. She turned to her cousin and whispered, "I¡¯m sorry for how I behaved yesterday."


    "And I¡¯m sorry too," Elena replied, "for not understanding you."


    Suddenly, from inside the church, they heard the announcement: "And now, the bride!"


    Lydia took her uncle¡¯s arm. The big doors opened. She took a deep breath and walked down the aisle with Alexander, while Elena held up the long train of her dress.


    She couldn¡¯t see the Grand Duke¡¯s face as he had his back to the crowd and was facing the priest. She walked with her uncle until they reached the altar. Then Alexander stepped away.


    Ivan turned to face her.


    Immediately, time seemed to stop. Lydia couldn¡¯t breathe or think. Standing in front of her was the same man she had saved that night in the woods¡ªthe same man she had begun to fall in love with. He was Ivan Romanov, the most feared man in all of Zolotaria. And worse...


    She looked at Queen Olga, who gave her a small smile.


    The Queen¡¯s instructions echoed in Lydia¡¯s mind:


    *"You will marry Grand Duke Ivan Romanov. But not for the reasons you might think. You will be my spy. You will watch everything he does. Find out his secrets and weaknesses. You have six months. When you complete this task, you will be rewarded. I will give you what you desire most¡ªthe ship your parents built for you and enough money to last your whole life. You will be able to escape and live the life you want. No forced marriages, no one controlling you. All you have to do is marry the Grand Duke and be my spy."*


    Lydia¡¯s heart pounded in her chest. The man she was supposed to spy on¡ªthe man whose weaknesses she was supposed to find¡ªwas the same man she was already falling in love with.


    She couldn¡¯t breathe. What was she going to do now?

 Chapter 17: The First Night With The Devil

    Chapter 17: The First Night With The DevilIvan and Lydia stood at the altar.


    Lydia¡¯s thoughts were spinning. Her body stood still, but her mind was far from the cathedral. She couldn¡¯t believe this was really happening.


    The priest began the proceedings.


    "We are gathered here today to witness the union of Grand Duke Ivan Romanov and Lady Lydia Andreyevna. If anyone has any objection, speak now or forever hold your peace..."


    Silence.


    Lydia¡¯s heart raced. Her chest felt tight, her hands cold. This didn¡¯t feel like her life anymore.


    The priest turned to the groom. "Do you, Ivan Romanov, take Lydia Andreyevna to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love and to protect, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"


    "I do," Ivan said, without hesitation.


    The priest then turned to her. His voice broke through her trance.


    "And do you, Lydia Andreyevna, take Ivan Romanov to be your lawfully wedded husband?"


    Lydia blinked and found her voice. "I... I do."


    "With the power vested in me by the Church and the Crown, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may rise."


    Applause followed, but Lydia barely heard it.


    At the Palace ¨C Ceremony


    The palace ballroom was transformed for the occasion. Musicians played soft music, nobles mingled, and servants moved swiftly with wine and hors d¡¯oeuvres. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above, casting warm light over the room, and the corners were decorated with fresh seasonal flowers that filled the air with a light, sweet scent.


    But as the grand doors opened and the Czar Vladimir, Queen Olga, and Prince Leonid entered, the room immediately fell silent.


    All guests turned and bowed.


    "Please," Vladimir said, voice smooth and commanding. "Enjoy the celebration."


    As the newlyweds entered, the room once again erupted in applause. Ivan and Lydia took their place at the center, receiving congratulations from a long line of nobles and dignitaries.


    Lydia¡¯s head was still spinning. The cheers, the stares, the reality of everything felt overwhelming. She politely excused herself to get a glass of water before returning.


    Lydia smiled, surprised. "I didn¡¯t think you would come."


    Irina arrived soon after. Her voice was warm as she embraced Lydia.


    "My dear godchild. Did you think I¡¯d miss your wedding?"


    Irina bowed to Ivan, who offered only a slight nod in return ¡ª his expression unreadable, his presence detached from the joy around him.


    Next came General Petrov, offering a teasing grin.


    "She¡¯s beautiful. Reminds me of your mother."


    Ivan said nothing, only giving him a sharp glare.


    Lydia glanced at him again, thinking: He doesn¡¯t seem that terrifying. People called him a devil, even claimed he was hideous. But he¡¯s not... not at all.


    Then came her family.


    Little Pyotr ran forward with curiosity, eyes wide.


    "Are you the Grand Duke?" he asked, reaching out to touch Ivan¡¯s coat.


    Before his fingers could reach, Ivan spoke coldly:


    "Do not touch me."


    Pyotr immediately recoiled, eyes downcast, and retreated to his father.


    Then, as if on cue, Queen Olga approached.


    Her voice was light and sweet. "Congratulations, Your Highness. And to you, my dear Lydia. What a stunning bride you are."


    Ivan turned to her slowly, face stiff.


    With a calm yet cutting voice, he said:


    "Whatever game you¡¯re playing with this ridiculous marriage, know that I won¡¯t entertain it."


    Then, looking directly at Lydia, his voice dropped lower.


    "I was told to marry you. Don¡¯t expect anything else from me. As soon as the sun rises, we¡¯re leaving for Svetlana. Have your belongings ready."


    He didn¡¯t wait for a reply. His face showed no hint of warmth.


    Lydia¡¯s heart clenched, but she held her posture. He¡¯s cold... but I hope he¡¯s not like the rumors say, she thought. Please, let him not be.


    The celebration slowly drew to a close. It was already late, and one by one, the guests began to leave the palace grounds. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Since it was the royal palace and the night of their marriage, it was expected that the newlyweds would spend the night together.


    Lydia was quietly escorted to her new chambers by the royal maids. They helped her bathe and change into a soft nightdress made of delicate lace and silk.


    She sat quietly on the bed, staring at the flickering candlelight, her mind still tangled in the whirlwind of the day¡¯s events. Despite everything, a small part of her hoped he might come¡ªeven just to talk.


    But he never did.


    Minutes turned to hours. Her eyes grew heavier. Eventually, she dozed off, her heart carrying a quiet disappointment.


    ---


    Meanwhile, Ivan was far from the bridal chambers. Down in the guards¡¯ training area, he was practicing sword movements¡ªignoring the strain of his unhealed wounds. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, the bandages beneath barely holding.


    General Petrov and Head Guard Boris stood nearby, arms folded as they watched in silence.


    "You just got married," General Petrov finally said with a smirk. "Shouldn¡¯t you be spending the night with your bride?"


    Boris added, "She might be waiting... or even sad."


    Ivan didn¡¯t stop. His blade sliced the air with precision.


    "I don¡¯t care," he muttered. "I never asked for this marriage."


    "You¡¯re leaving tomorrow then?" Petrov asked.


    "Yes," Ivan replied without hesitation.


    Boris hesitated. "We checked the cottage again. The old couple weren¡¯t there. They might have travelled. I¡¯ll go again tomorrow before you leave."


    Ivan gave a small nod. "Good."


    Then, after a pause, he told them, "Leave. I want to be alone."


    They obeyed without another word.


    Alone under the moonlight, Ivan continued practicing until the pain in his side caught up with him. Breathing heavily, he finally sheathed his sword.


    And with nothing else to distract him, he quietly made his way back to his chambers.


    Morning came with a soft glow that peeked through the curtains. Lydia slowly opened her eyes, her body still sore from everything that happened the day before. Her head felt heavy. She turned to the side.


    The other side of the bed was empty.


    It hadn¡¯t been touched at all.


    So, he really never came.


    She sat up slowly, rubbing her arms as a quiet sigh left her lips. Maybe she had expected too much. Still, it hurt a little.


    At least the wedding went well. That was something.


    Soon, the doors opened and the royal servants entered. They greeted her and helped her out of bed. One brought a basin of warm water while another prepared her dress. They didn¡¯t ask questions, but she could feel their eyes glancing around the room, silently wondering if the Grand Duke had shown up.


    After bathing, they dressed her in a soft pink gown. It was light and simple, but still beautiful.


    Just as they finished tying the last ribbon, the doors opened again.


    Ivan walked in.


    He was fully dressed, his expression unreadable as always.


    "Come with me," he said shortly.


    Lydia followed him without a word.


    As they walked through the palace corridors, she kept glancing at him. Her heart wouldn¡¯t stop pounding. She wanted to say something¡ªto ask him why he hadn¡¯t come last night¡ªbut her lips refused to move. He didn¡¯t look at her, not even once.


    When they reached the grand double doors that led into the throne room, Ivan pushed them open.


    Inside, the Czar and Queen were already waiting.


    Lydia and Ivan both bowed.


    "Congratulations," Vladimir said. His voice was calm as always.


    Then came Olga¡¯s voice. "How was your night?" she asked, smiling sweetly, but her eyes were sharp. "I heard a little rumour that the bride and groom never even spent it together."


    Ivan¡¯s jaw tightened. He was about to speak, but Lydia stepped forward.


    "That¡¯s not true," she said quickly. "Everything went well."


    Ivan turned his head slightly, looking at her in silence.


    Vladimir nodded, but Olga didn¡¯t let it end there. She smiled again. "Good. I¡¯d hate to think my new daughter-in-law was already sleeping alone on her wedding night."


    Ivan ignored her completely. "We¡¯ll be leaving now," he said, turning to Vladimir. "I¡¯ve already stayed longer than I wanted. There¡¯s work waiting in Svetlana."


    The Czar gave a slight nod. "Safe journey."


    They both bowed and turned to leave.


    But Olga¡¯s voice came again, smooth and sweet like honey hiding a sting. "Congratulations again. You two make such a beautiful couple. I truly hope your marriage is... blissful."


    Ivan said nothing.


    Lydia gave a polite smile, but her heart felt heavy.


    As soon as they stepped out into the corridor, the heavy doors of the throne room closing behind them, Ivan broke the silence.


    "Why did you lie back there?" His voice was cold.


    Lydia looked up at him, caught off guard. "I... I didn¡¯t know what to say," she replied quietly. "I thought they might get angry at you."


    He stopped walking and turned to her.


    "And who might you be?" he asked, his voice sharp and distant. "I already told you. Don¡¯t expect anything from this marriage."


    Lydia opened her mouth, trying to explain. "I was just trying to help¡ª"


    "Did I ask for your help?" he cut her off coldly. "Were you expecting a thank you?"


    She didn¡¯t know what to say.


    He stared at her with that same cold expression. "Don¡¯t interfere with my life. That¡¯s the last time I¡¯ll warn you."


    Then he turned around. "Be downstairs in ten minutes. We¡¯re leaving now."


    With that, he walked off.


    Lydia stood there, frozen. Her chest tightened. Her eyes stung, but she blinked back the tears.


    How could someone be so cold and indifferent?


    She bit her lip and walked back to her chambers in silence.


    ---


    A short while later, they were both seated in the carriage, ready to leave the palace. Not a single word passed between them. The ride was quiet¡ªtoo quiet.


    As the carriage rolled through the streets, Lydia finally spoke. "Please stop at my house."


    The rider pulled the reins and slowed down. Ivan turned to her slightly, his eyes narrowed. "Why?"


    "I need to say goodbye to my family... and get my things."


    He didn¡¯t respond. He only looked out the window.


    The carriage pulled up in front of the Andreyevna house, and Lydia stepped down.


    She glanced once at Ivan, but he wasn¡¯t looking at her.


    She sighed softly and walked toward the house.

 Chapter 18: Farewell To Danger

    Chapter 18: Farewell To DangerThe morning sun cast gentle rays through the windows of the palace as Lydia prepared to leave the only home she had known for years. Her heart felt heavy as she walked through the familiar halls one last time.


    Inside the main hall, Lydia said her farewells to everyone. Elena hugged her tightly, her eyes wet with tears.


    "I will miss you so much, Lydia," Elena said, her voice breaking slightly. "Who will help me in the kitchen now?"


    Anya couldn¡¯t control her emotions and began sobbing openly. "Promise you¡¯ll write to us," she pleaded, holding Lydia¡¯s hands.


    "I promise," Lydia replied, though she wasn¡¯t sure if she would be able to keep this promise.


    Mikhail and Pyotr stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say. They were not men of many words, but their sad expressions spoke volumes.


    "Take care of yourself, Miss Lydia," Mikhail finally managed, his deep voice unusually soft.


    Even Daria and Galina, who had always been strict with Lydia, couldn¡¯t hide their emotions. They sobbed a little as they embraced her.


    "Remember everything we taught you," Daria said, straightening Lydia¡¯s collar one last time.


    Her uncle, however, didn¡¯t come out to say goodbye. His absence was noticeable and painful, like a cold shadow over the warm farewells from everyone else.


    After saying goodbye to everyone in the main hall, Lydia went to her room. She moved around it slowly, taking one last look at everything ¨C the bed where she had slept for years, the window where she had spent countless hours looking out at the grounds, the small desk where she had written her thoughts.


    Galina came in while Lydia was lost in memories. "Your things have been packed," she said, gesturing to the trunks by the door. "Especially your books," she added with a knowing smile.


    Lydia chuckled. Of course Galina would make sure her books were packed carefully. She had always encouraged Lydia¡¯s love of reading.


    Galina¡¯s expression turned serious. "We will miss you so much, Lydia. This house won¡¯t be the same without you."


    Lydia felt tears threatening to fall but held them back. "I¡¯ll miss all of you too."


    As she came down the stairs with her small traveling bag, Lydia paused. She couldn¡¯t leave without saying goodbye to her uncle, no matter how difficult it might be. She turned toward his study and knocked gently on the door.


    "Enter," came the gruff response from inside.


    Alexander sat behind his large desk, papers spread before him. He didn¡¯t look up as Lydia entered.


    "Uncle," Lydia began, her voice smaller than she intended. "I¡¯ve come to say goodbye."


    Rather than offering a warm farewell, Alexander remained cold. He finally looked up, his face showing no emotion. "You are not gone yet?" he asked harshly.


    "I... I wanted to say goodbye properly," Lydia explained, stepping further into the room.


    "I don¡¯t care," he replied bluntly. "You should go. After all, you wanted to leave, didn¡¯t you? Go and live your life as the grand duchess or whatever title awaits you. Leave and never return. This isn¡¯t your home anymore."


    His words hurt Lydia deeply. "Do you hate me that much?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "All I came to do was say goodbye."


    "You¡¯ve said it," Alexander replied coldly. "Now go."


    "You shouldn¡¯t worry," Lydia said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I¡¯ll never appear in front of you again. Goodbye, Uncle."


    She turned and left his study, closing the door quietly behind her. Once in the hallway, the tears she had been holding back fell freely. She wiped them away quickly, not wanting anyone to see her crying.


    Meanwhile, outside in the courtyard, Ivan had been waiting in the carriage for some time. Growing impatient, he stepped out to straighten his body and stretch his legs. Just as he was considering going inside to look for Lydia, he noticed a horse approaching rapidly.


    It was Boris, riding at full speed toward the carriage. He pulled his horse to a stop near Ivan.


    "I thought you weren¡¯t coming," Ivan said, relieved to see him.


    "Did you find the girl?" Ivan asked, slightly out of breath.


    "Yes," Boris replied simply.


    At that moment, Lydia came out of the palace. She had wiped away her tears and composed herself, pretending that everything was fine. She smiled as she approached her cousins and the maids who had gathered outside to see her off. She embraced them once more.


    "I¡¯ll visit soon," she promised, though in her heart, she knew it might be a lie. After her uncle¡¯s words, she wasn¡¯t sure she would ever return.


    The small crowd waved as she walked toward the carriage. Boris tilted his head slightly toward her as Ivan asked, "Who is she?"


    "Her," Boris responded simply, nodding in Lydia¡¯s direction.


    Confusion crossed Ivan¡¯s face as Lydia approached them. "I¡¯ve taken my belongings and said my farewells," she announced. "It¡¯s time to go."


    Ivan seemed unable to speak, clearly confused by something. Boris said his own farewell to Lydia and rode back toward the palace, leaving her alone with the silent Ivan.


    They climbed into the carriage, and the driver set the horses in motion. The palace ¨C her home for so many years ¨C slowly grew smaller in the distance until it disappeared altogether behind the tall trees.


    The carriage ride was awfully quiet. The only sounds were the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses¡¯ hooves and the occasional rustle as Lydia turned a page in her book. She had chosen to read to avoid the uncomfortable silence.


    Ivan sat across from her, his head leaned back and his eyes closed. He hadn¡¯t spoken a single word since they left. From time to time, Lydia couldn¡¯t help stealing glances at him, peaking through her book when she thought he wouldn¡¯t notice.


    They traveled for hours as the landscape changed around them. The familiar forests and fields of home gave way to rolling hills and small villages Lydia had never seen before. As darkness began to fall, the temperature dropped, and Lydia pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders.


    Finally, the driver called down to them. "We¡¯ll stop for the night! Too dangerous to continue in the dark. There¡¯s a good inn in the next town, a little far from Svetlana."


    The town was small but charming, with buildings clustered around a central square. The inn was larger than Lydia had expected, its windows glowing warmly in the evening darkness.


    Ivan jumped down from the carriage first and, after a moment¡¯s hesitation, offered his hand to help Lydia down. His touch was brief and impersonal.


    "Wait here," he instructed before disappearing inside the inn.


    After a few minutes, Ivan returned, looking slightly frustrated. "Come," he said. "I¡¯ve arranged for rooms."


    Inside, the inn was warm and clean. The innkeeper, a friendly woman with a welcoming smile, led them up a narrow staircase.


    "I requested two rooms," Ivan said firmly.


    "Unfortunately, I¡¯m out of rooms," the innkeeper replied with an apologetic smile. "I only have one left." She gave them a knowing look and added with a wink, "But you¡¯re husband and wife, so what¡¯s there in sharing a room? It¡¯s a nice one, too."


    Before either could correct her assumption, she opened the door to reveal a neat room with a single large bed. There was also a table with two chairs by the window and a mirror hanging on the wall. Everything looked clean and comfortable, but Lydia¡¯s heart began to race at the thought of sharing such an intimate space with Ivan.


    "This will have to do," Ivan said stiffly.


    They entered the room, and Lydia stood awkwardly by the door as Ivan removed his jacket and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. The silence between them was uncomfortable.


    A knock at the door startled them both. Lydia opened it to find the innkeeper carrying a tray of food.


    "Thought you might be hungry after your journey," the woman said cheerfully, placing the tray on the table. "If you need anything else, feel free to ask."


    "Thank you," Lydia said with genuine gratitude.


    The innkeeper smiled and turned to leave, but not before adding, "Enjoy your evening."


    Dinner was as quiet as their journey had been. The only sounds were the clink of utensils against plates. Lydia wanted desperately to break the silence but couldn¡¯t think of what to say.


    As soon as Ivan finished eating, he stood up and moved to the bed. Without a word to Lydia, he lay down and seemed to fall asleep almost immediately.


    Lydia sat at the table for a long time, watching him. She understood now that his silence and distance meant he had no intention of sharing the bed with her or even speaking with her more than necessary. The realization hurt more than she cared to admit.


    She was hurting inside, feeling lonely and unsure about her future.


    With a sigh, she gathered the dirty dishes. Perhaps some activity would distract her from the ache in her chest. She quietly left the room, careful not to disturb Ivan.


    Ivan rose his head slightly to see that she was gone. He didn¡¯t say anything, just lying there with his thoughts.


    Downstairs, Lydia handed the dishes to the innkeeper. "Thank you for the meal," she said politely.


    "You¡¯re welcome, dear," the woman replied with a kind smile. "Everything all right up there?"


    "Yes, thank you," Lydia lied. She didn¡¯t want to explain her complicated situation.


    When she returned to the room, Ivan appeared to be fast asleep. Not wanting to disturb him or make the situation more awkward, Lydia pulled a chair to the window and sat down. Outside, the moon was bright, casting silver light over the small town. Stars dotted the sky, more than she had ever seen at home.


    She sat by the window for a long time, thinking about all that had happened that day ¨C leaving her home, her uncle¡¯s cold words, this strange journey with a man who barely acknowledged her existence. Eventually, her eyes grew heavy, and she drifted off to sleep, still sitting in the chair.


    Morning arrived with bright sunlight streaming through the window. Lydia woke slowly, confused to find herself in the bed. She had no memory of moving there herself. Looking around the room, she noticed Ivan was gone.


    "I must have sleepwalked to the bed during the night," she thought, sitting up and stretching.


    Just then, the door opened and Ivan walked in. He was already fully dressed and looked ready to depart.


    "Get ready," he said abruptly. "We¡¯re leaving now."


    Lydia moved quickly, not wanting to delay their departure. She quickly washed her face, rinsed her mouth, and brushed her hair.


    "I¡¯m ready," she announced, gathering her small bag.


    Their journey continued in silence. Hours passed as the carriage moved steadily forward. The landscape became more beautiful ¨C hills and forests giving way to open countryside. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, the driver announced that they had arrived at their destination. The carriage came to a stop in front of an impressive building.


    It was the grand duke¡¯s palace at Svetlana. The sight took Lydia¡¯s breath away. The palace was nothing like she had hoped for ¨C it was much more beautiful. The elegant building stood majestically against the blue sky, surrounded by perfectly maintained gardens. The scene was serene and peaceful, almost dreamlike.


    Lydia stared in wonder at what would be her new home. Despite all the pain of leaving and the uncertainty of her future, she couldn¡¯t help feeling a small spark of hope at the beauty of Svetlana.

 Chapter 19: The Devil’s Domain

    Chapter 19: The Devil¡¯s DomainThe carriage came to a slow halt before the towering gates of the Grand Duke¡¯s estate. As soon as it did, Ivan reached for his silver mask without a word and fastened it over his face. Lydia¡¯s chest tightened at the sight. That mask¡ªit was like watching a wall slam shut between them.


    She said nothing, simply stepped down and walked beside him. Despite being his wife now, she felt no closer to him than a stranger on the street.


    As the heavy doors opened and they entered the main hall, Lydia¡¯s eyes darted around. Servants who had been bustling about suddenly froze, then scattered like frightened birds. Those who stayed behind bowed deeply, keeping their eyes low¡ªso low they seemed afraid to breathe in his presence.


    One of them, a woman in her fifties, remained standing stiffly near the stairway.


    "This is the new Grand Duchess," Ivan said coldly, not even sparing Lydia a glance. "Inform her of her duties."


    The woman bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."


    Lydia instinctively took a step to follow him, but he stopped her with a sharp glance.


    "You¡¯ll be taken to your quarters. Do not follow me."


    And just like that, he was gone.


    The hall fell into a tense silence. Only after his footsteps disappeared down the corridor did the servants breathe again.


    The older woman turned to her. "I am Katherine, Your Highness," she said with a composed tone. "Please follow me."


    Katherine began to lead her through the palace, pointing out rooms and giving short explanations of their history¡ªhow this wing was built after the war, how the Grand Duke¡¯s ancestors once hosted royal banquets here. Lydia listened, though her mind was elsewhere.


    Then, with a small smile, she asked, "And where is the Grand Duke¡¯s room?"


    Katherine slowed, clearly surprised. "His Highness¡¯ chambers?" she repeated as if unsure she¡¯d heard right. "They¡¯re down that hall. But no one goes there, Your Highness. He prefers privacy."


    Lydia still smiled. "I¡¯d just like to know, that¡¯s all."


    Katherine didn¡¯t respond. She simply gestured toward a hallway lined with darker wood and fewer lights, and Lydia made note of it.


    Eventually, Katherine led her to her own quarters¡ªbeautiful and spacious, with polished floors, high ceilings, and grand windows draped in velvet. But it felt cold. Distant. Like a room meant to be admired, not lived in. There was no warmth here, no welcome. Just formality.


    "It¡¯s quite far from his," Lydia murmured.


    Katherine gave a neutral nod. "Yes, Your Highness. Now, I will send in the maids assigned to you."


    Soon after, two young maids entered. They bowed low, avoiding her eyes. Lydia greeted them with a warm smile, but one of them visibly flinched. The other gripped her hands together tightly.


    "Are you... afraid of me?" Lydia asked, puzzled. "Did I do something wrong?"


    They looked at each other, confused. "No, Your Highness," one said quickly.


    They helped her with her bath in silence. Then they dressed her in a deep maroon gown and brushed her long hair carefully. Still, the air was tense. Heavy. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After a while, Lydia asked gently, "You may leave. I¡¯d like to be alone for a moment."


    The two maids bowed and stepped out. As the door closed behind them, Lydia sat before her vanity, staring at her reflection. Her new life was beginning to feel like a gilded cage.


    Outside the bath chamber, the two maids huddled together.


    "Poor thing," one whispered. "She must have been bewitched by the devil."


    "No," the other murmured. "It¡¯s a forced marriage. That poor girl doesn¡¯t even know she¡¯s married to the devil himself."


    Later that evening, Katherine returned to fetch her for dinner. The dining hall was enormous, its long table stretching so far she felt like a dot in the middle of it. Dishes were laid out before her, but she was alone.


    "His Highness doesn¡¯t dine here?" she asked.


    Katherine shook her head. "His Highness prefers his meals in private... or during formal meetings."


    Lydia nodded slowly, her appetite fading. She picked at her food in silence, her thoughts loud.


    That night, she laid on the large bed in her cold, echoing chambers. The silence was unbearable. Ivan never came. Not that she expected him to. But it still stung.


    ---


    The Next Morning


    The sun poured in through the tall windows. Lydia opened her eyes slowly, then sighed. Ivan had meant what he said¡ªthis marriage meant nothing to him.


    Her maids bathed and dressed her in a sky-blue gown. Again, they said little. Again, she ate alone.


    Later, restless and tired of the silence, Lydia wandered the halls in search of something to lift her spirits. She remembered seeing a door marked Library on the tour.


    When she opened it, her eyes widened. Shelves climbed from floor to ceiling, filled with books of all kinds. There were old maps, celestial globes, even locked glass cases with manuscripts. For the first time since her arrival, her heart lifted.


    She wandered among the shelves, smiling as her fingers brushed the spines. A book on pirates and the sea caught her eye, and she chuckled.


    She climbed a small ladder to reach a rolled map from a high shelf¡ªbut the ladder wobbled, and before she could steady herself, she slipped.


    Her heart leapt.


    But before she could hit the ground, strong arms caught her. Her breath hitched as she looked up and saw the black mask.


    Ivan.


    She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. "Th-thank y¡ª"


    "Leave."


    The word was sharp and cold. He let go of her as if she burned him and walked past without another glance.


    Lydia stood frozen. Her chest ached, but not from the fall.


    Later, she wandered into the palace orchard, a quiet place filled with sweet blossoms and sunlight. There, she sat with her pirate book. She even managed to smile.


    But then her thoughts drifted back to the Queen¡¯s warning. Spy on him. Find out his weakness.


    She didn¡¯t even know him. How could she spy on someone who barely spoke to her?


    Still... maybe she could write down anything odd. If there was anything at all.


    She made a mental note to begin a diary.


    On her way back to her quarters, she took a wrong turn and ended up in an unfamiliar part of the palace. The walls here were bare. No guards. No paintings. The hallway was colder, and the light dimmer.


    She stumbled upon a heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor. It looked untouched for years, dust lingering around the frame. Something about it pulled at her curiosity.


    But just as she reached for the handle, a hand gripped her wrist tightly.


    "Didn¡¯t I tell you to stay away from here?"


    Ivan.


    His voice was sharper than she¡¯d ever heard it. His mask was still on, but his grip was ice.


    "I-I got lost. I was just¡ª"


    "I don¡¯t care," he snapped. "If I ever see you near here again, I will kill you."


    And with that, he shoved her aside.


    Her heart pounded, but this time it wasn¡¯t fear¡ªit was fury. Her vision blurred as hot tears stung her eyes. She spun around and shouted, "What did I do to you?! Why are you treating me like this?"


    Ivan froze.


    "No one has ever¡ª"


    "I¡¯m not no one!" she yelled, fists clenched. "If you don¡¯t want me here, just say so! But stop shouting at me like I¡¯m nothing. I¡¯m a person too!"


    She wrenched her wrist from his grip and stormed off, muttering under her breath, "What a heartless person..."


    Ivan remained in the hallway, silent. Staring after her.


    For the first time in years... someone had yelled at him.

 Chapter 20: The Devil’s Blood

    Chapter 20: The Devil¡¯s BloodIvan watched Lydia, still stunned by what had just happened.


    But before he could gather his thoughts, a sharp pain tore through his abdomen. He staggered. His hand instinctively gripped his side. Warm blood soaked through his shirt. His wound had reopened¡ªmore violently this time.


    Meanwhile, Lydia, who had been heading back to her quarters, suddenly stopped in her tracks. Something tugged at her. She remembered her book¡ªthe one she dropped when he had pulled her earlier. Sighing, she turned around to go retrieve it.


    But the moment she stepped back into the corridor, her heart sank.


    Ivan was on the ground. Blood pooled beneath him, and his body twisted slightly in pain. His breathing was ragged, shallow.


    Her eyes widened. "Ivan!"


    She sprinted to him, dropping to her knees beside his body. Her hands hovered above his wound, unsure whether to touch or not.


    "I¡¯ll call for help!" she cried, already raising her voice.


    "No!" His voice was harsh, filled with panic. "Don¡¯t¡ªdon¡¯t call anyone. Just leave."


    "What are you saying?" she snapped, shaken. "If I leave, you¡¯ll bleed to death!"


    "I said leave me!" he growled, his voice already weaker.


    He tried to rise on his own, gripping the wall for support. But his knees buckled under his weight and he collapsed¡ªright into her arms. The impact knocked the breath out of her lungs. His silver mask fell off, clattering onto the floor beside them.


    For a second, Lydia froze. She had never seen his face up close. Now, here he was¡ªvulnerable, sweating, in pain.


    "Lean on me," she whispered.


    He hesitated, but his body had no strength left to resist.


    Clutching him tightly, she began dragging him toward the palace halls. His full weight bore down on her, nearly making her stumble, but she didn¡¯t stop.


    She kept shouting for help as they moved. "Someone help!"


    "Don¡¯t call them!" he hissed again through gritted teeth.


    But her cries had already reached the ears of a few servants and guards. They rushed over, startled by the scene¡ªbut the moment they saw Ivan, fear froze them in place.


    Ivan glared at them, his voice like steel. "Don¡¯t touch me. I¡¯ll kill you."


    They backed off instantly.


    Lydia was panting from the effort but managed to pull him into his chambers. The guards hesitated at the door, exchanging nervous glances.


    A physician rushed in soon after, carrying a trembling kit in his hands, his face pale. "Your Grace¡ª"


    "Touch me," Ivan spat through clenched teeth, "and you die."


    The physician stepped back at once.


    "Everyone leave," Lydia ordered, facing them. "All of you. Now."


    No one dared argue. Within moments, the room emptied, leaving just the two of them.


    Ivan, still lying on the couch now, glared up at her. "Don¡¯t touch me either. I swear, if you lay a hand on me¡ª"


    She didn¡¯t wait for him to finish.


    Ignoring every warning, she rushed forward and tore open his blood-soaked shirt. The wound had split apart badly¡ªit must¡¯ve reopened the previous day, judging by how swollen and red the skin looked.


    "Damn it," she muttered under her breath.


    Ivan barked at her again, trying to push her away with one shaky arm. "I¡¯ll kill you! I¡¯ll¡ª"


    "Shut up!" she snapped suddenly, pressing a finger into his wound.


    He winced hard, biting his lip to stop from screaming.


    She stared down at him, furious and shaking. "How exactly are you going to kill me when you¡¯re dying, hmm?"


    He was silent.


    "Let me help you," she said, her voice softer now. "After that, I¡¯ll leave if you want. You can kill me later if that pleases you, but at least let me treat you first."


    He didn¡¯t respond. But he didn¡¯t stop her either.


    Quickly, she worked to clean the wound, pressing a clean cloth firmly against it to stop the bleeding. Her hands moved quickly but gently. Her fingers trembled with worry. She tied the cloth carefully, making sure not to hurt him more than necessary.


    By the time she finished dressing the wound, Ivan had passed out.


    Lydia sat back on her heels, breathing hard. She looked at him¡ªhis bare chest rising and falling slowly, sweat glistening on his skin. His face, usually so stern and terrifying, now looked so peaceful. Almost boyish. Innocent.


    The man who threatened to kill everyone... now slept like a newborn.


    She grabbed a bowl of warm water and a soft cloth, dipping it before gently cleaning the dried blood from his skin. She wiped his forehead, his arms, careful not to disturb his wound. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    When she finished, she sat there, just watching him. His brow was furrowed. He was burning up. Fever.


    Lydia got another towel, this time dipping it in cold water. She pressed it lightly to his forehead, hoping to ease his temperature.


    Her eyes lingered on his face.


    She couldn¡¯t help but reach out and brush a few strands of hair from his eyes. Her fingers grazed his cheek softly, tracing the lines that told stories of pain and survival.


    Her heart was pounding in her chest.


    "I wish you knew," she whispered. "I wish you knew how much I wanted to talk to you."


    But he never gave her the chance. He kept shutting her out, always pushing her away.


    "Why are you like this?" she murmured, blinking away the sting in her eyes. "Why won¡¯t you let anyone in?"


    She stayed with him for hours, quietly watching him breathe. Eventually, exhaustion overcame her. She fell asleep in the chair beside him, her head resting on the edge of the bed.


    A sudden movement startled her awake.


    Ivan was tossing in his sleep, face twisted in distress.


    "No," he mumbled, his voice hoarse. "No... let me go..."


    She leaned closer. He was dreaming. But it wasn¡¯t just any dream¡ªit was a nightmare.


    In his mind, a small boy no older than four cried helplessly as he was dragged across a dark hallway by a tall woman. Her face was blurred and shadowed, but her grip was cruel. She threw the boy into a dim, windowless room¡ªthat room¡ªand locked the door. The child pounded on the wood, screaming.


    "I want to go to my mother! Please!"


    On the bed, Ivan twisted again, sweat pouring from his temples.


    Lydia gently placed her hand on his chest. "Shh... it¡¯s okay..."


    She started singing softly, a lullaby her mother used to sing to her when she was little. Her voice was quiet, trembling a little, but steady.


    "I¡¯m scared, Mother..." Ivan whimpered in his sleep. "Please save me... I don¡¯t want to die..."


    A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye.


    Lydia¡¯s throat tightened. Her own tears followed. She reached out and gently wiped his face.


    Her hand lingered.


    Who was this man, really? A monster? Or just a broken child in a man¡¯s body?


    She looked at him closely, heart aching.


    No... he wasn¡¯t a devil. He was someone who had been shattered a long time ago. Someone drowning in his own pain, locked away inside himself.


    "I wish I could take it all away..." she whispered.


    She climbed onto the bed slowly, laying beside him. Careful not to hurt him. She rested her head near his shoulder and resumed singing softly, barely above a whisper.


    He slowly calmed.


    And together, they slept.

 Chapter 21: Run Away From The Devil

    Chapter 21: Run Away From The DevilIvan woke up early the next morning to the quiet sound of breathing beside him. His head ached, but it wasn¡¯t what caught his attention. It was the soft pressure on his shoulder.


    Lydia was still sleeping. Her head rested gently against him, her body curled slightly like she was trying to protect him. The warm towel he had placed on his forehead during the night had already turned cold. He reached up and removed it slowly, careful not to move too much.


    He wanted to sit up. He wanted to push her away and tell her to leave. But he didn¡¯t.


    She looked tired. Even her breathing was soft and uneven, like someone who hadn¡¯t rested properly in days. Her clothes were stained with dark, dried blood¡ªhis blood. She hadn¡¯t changed or cleaned up. From the looks of it, she hadn¡¯t left his side at all the previous day.


    He just stared at her.


    She was quiet, peaceful, and fragile in that moment. And yet... something about her didn¡¯t sit right with him. She didn¡¯t fear him like everyone else. She didn¡¯t look at him with hate either. If anything, she looked at him like he was just a man¡ªnot a monster, not a devil.


    Even when he threatened her... she didn¡¯t flinch.


    She had saved his life. Again.


    He kept staring at her, eyes tracing the dried blood on her sleeve, the way her eyelashes rested lightly against her skin, how her mouth was slightly parted from sleep. A storm brewed in his chest, one he couldn¡¯t name.


    Outside, the sound of a horse arriving echoed faintly through the cold morning air.


    Ivan was still lying down, with Lydia still on his shoulder, when a knock came at the door.


    He didn¡¯t move.


    The door opened slowly.


    It was Boris.


    His boots thudded against the floor until he saw the sight in front of him. He stopped. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Lydia asleep beside Ivan.


    "Your Highness," he greeted, voice caught between amusement and surprise.


    Ivan held up a hand, glaring. "Keep your voice down," he whispered sharply.


    Boris immediately lowered his tone. "I came as fast as I could. The pigeon you sent said your wound had reopened."


    Ivan looked away. "You¡¯re late," he said. "It¡¯s already been treated."


    Boris raised an eyebrow, smirking as his eyes slid to Lydia. "I figured," he said quietly, teasing.


    Ivan gave him a hard stare but said nothing.


    He tried to get up, but his body still ached. Boris rushed to help him. As Ivan pulled himself up with a wince, he carefully moved Lydia¡¯s head and placed a pillow beneath it. She didn¡¯t wake.


    They stepped outside, leaving her quietly sleeping.


    Boris kept grinning. "Looks like someone finally got past your walls," he said, walking beside him.


    Ivan ignored him.


    "I don¡¯t know what it is about her," Ivan muttered after a pause, "but I think she¡¯s crazy."


    "Why?" Boris asked, amused.


    "She yelled at me," Ivan said. "Not once, not twice. Even when I threatened to kill her, she didn¡¯t back down. She just ignored me."


    Boris chuckled. "Maybe she¡¯s not crazy. Maybe she likes you."


    Ivan stopped walking and turned his head slowly. "Do I look like I¡¯m joking?" sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Boris grinned. "I¡¯m not joking either. I came to check on your wound, Your Highness. Not give you marriage advice."


    Ivan rolled his eyes and kept walking.


    Boris looked at him again, this time more serious. "She reminds me of your mother."


    Ivan paused.


    "So much in common," Boris added quietly.


    Ivan let out a bitter breath. "Too much. Especially the stupidity."


    Boris opened his mouth to say something, but Ivan cut him off. "That¡¯s enough. Go. I have duties to attend to."


    ---


    Meanwhile, Lydia slowly opened her eyes.


    The bed was empty beside her. He was gone.


    She sat up immediately, eyes scanning the room. She was alone. The sheets were still wrinkled from his weight. Her fingers brushed over them before she got up and looked around.


    Her eyes fell on something hanging on the wall¡ªa painting.


    She walked closer, drawn in without realizing.


    It was a beautiful woman. Blonde hair, styled in soft curls, framed her delicate face. Her eyes were sky blue¡ªkind and gentle. There was sadness in them, but also grace. Her lips curved in a quiet smile.


    Lydia knew right away. This was Ivan¡¯s mother.


    There was something about her that made her chest tighten. Her beauty wasn¡¯t cold or perfect. It was real. Alive. She looked like someone who had loved deeply. And suffered just as much.


    As Lydia stared, the door opened behind her.


    She turned quickly.


    Ivan stood at the entrance. Their eyes met.


    She ran up to him. "Are you okay, Your Highness?"


    He looked at her for a long moment. He wanted to snap at her, to tell her to leave again. But the way she looked¡ªher eyes wide with worry, her dress still stained with blood¡ªmade him pause.


    "Go," he said roughly. "Go and freshen up."


    "I¡¯ll come back later," she said softly. "In fact, I¡¯ll come back every day to check on your wound."


    He blinked.


    "I don¡¯t care if you threaten me or try to kill me," she said. "I¡¯ll still come. Until you¡¯re fully recovered."


    She turned and left before he could say anything.


    He didn¡¯t move. He didn¡¯t even try to stop her.


    He turned slowly to the painting.


    "She¡¯s just like you," he said to it. His voice cracked. "I just hope... she¡¯s not entirely like you."


    ---


    Lydia returned to her quarters.


    Her maids were waiting. They gently helped her into a warm bath, washing away the dried blood and sweat from her skin.


    The water stung against a small scratch on her arm, but she didn¡¯t flinch. She just stared at the surface, her thoughts far away.


    Katherine entered the room carrying a tray of snacks.


    "You didn¡¯t eat anything since yesterday, Your Highness," she said gently, setting the tray down.


    Lydia didn¡¯t answer right away. She was still staring at nothing.


    "He looks like his mother," she finally said.


    Everyone in the room went quiet.


    "His Highness?" Katherine asked.


    "Yes," Lydia said. "He¡¯s... pretty. Like her."


    The maids exchanged confused glances.


    "Do you know why he wears a mask?" Lydia asked quietly.


    No one answered.


    "In the capital, they say it¡¯s because he has a scar... or that he¡¯s ugly," she continued. "But that¡¯s not true, is it?"


    The maids still didn¡¯t speak.


    Finally, Katherine looked up. "We don¡¯t know, Your Highness. No one does. He started hiding his face when he was just a child. Only His Highness knows why."


    She walked closer and knelt beside the bath.


    "Do you want to know a secret?" she whispered. "He wasn¡¯t called ¡¯The Devil¡¯ because of his face. That title came from something else. His actions. Don¡¯t let his looks fool you, Your Highness. That man is a monster. A cruel one."


    Lydia¡¯s eyes widened slightly.


    "If I were you, I wouldn¡¯t want to get close to him," Katherine continued. "I¡¯d run the other way. Far away. That man... he¡¯s nothing but a devil."


    "But why?" Lydia asked. "Why do you call him that?"


    "Do you know why all the servants are scared of him?" Katherine asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Why they never look him in the eye? Because the moment he became the Grand Duke, he killed every single servant and guard in this palace. The halls were soaked in blood. Do you know how old he was?"


    Lydia shook her head, her breath catching in her throat.


    "Only sixteen," Katherine said. "Sixteen years old. And he painted these walls with screams."


    Lydia¡¯s heart felt heavy. "Are you sure?" she whispered. "Most things people say... they¡¯re just rumors. Lies."


    Katherine stood slowly.


    She raised her skirt and pulled it aside, revealing a deep scar across her leg. The skin was uneven, twisted like something had once torn it open.


    "These aren¡¯t rumors, Your Highness," she said. Her voice broke. "They¡¯re the truth. I was there. I saw everything."


    Lydia stared in shock, unable to speak.


    "I¡¯m the only one who survived," Katherine whispered. "He let me live. He made me watch everything. So I would remember."


    Lydia¡¯s mouth hung open. Her lips trembled. Her heart felt like it had been torn apart.


    She didn¡¯t know what to say.


    Or what to feel.

 Chapter 22: Even The Devil Waits

    Chapter 22: Even The Devil Waits"Your Highness."


    The voice came like a tap on Lydia¡¯s mind, pulling her back from the deep, dark hole of thoughts she¡¯d sunk into. It was Katherine, standing by the bath with a towel in hand.


    "Your Highness?!"


    "Your Highness?!"


    Lydia blinked.


    Katherine tilted her head. "Are you alright?"


    She realized she was still sitting in the bath, her arms hugging her knees, the water gone cold around her. The warmth had faded long ago, but she hadn¡¯t noticed. Her mind was still stuck in the words from earlier.


    The blood.


    The screams.


    A sixteen-year-old boy.


    A scar.


    A monster.


    "I¡¯m fine," Lydia said softly, though her voice barely sounded like her own.


    The maids came to help her out of the tub. Her limbs felt heavy, as if the water had soaked into her bones. She let them wrap her in towels and pat her dry. Her eyes were blank, staring off at nothing.


    When they brought the dress, she just stood still, letting them lift her arms and button her sleeves. Katherine offered her a tray of warm bread and tea, something sweet too¡ªstrawberry preserves. Lydia took it in her hands but didn¡¯t eat.


    She sat in front of the mirror as they brushed her hair. Her fingers stayed wrapped around the cup. She hadn¡¯t taken a single sip.


    The tea had gone cold too.


    "Your Highness," one of the maids said carefully. "You didn¡¯t touch your breakfast. Do you want something else?"


    Lydia shook her head.


    Her stomach felt like stone. How could she eat when all she could think about was what Katherine said? What she showed?


    He couldn¡¯t have. No one could do that.


    Not at sixteen.


    But the way Katherine said it... the scar on her leg... the look in her eyes...


    "Maybe he had a reason," Lydia whispered to herself without realizing.


    The maids looked at one another but said nothing.


    The rest of the day dragged by like a storm cloud that refused to burst. Lydia didn¡¯t leave her room. She didn¡¯t write. She didn¡¯t speak. When it was time for lunch, she sat at the table and stared at the food. A piece of bread. Some soup. Nothing touched.


    She heard her own voice from yesterday echoing in her head:


    "I¡¯ll come back. I¡¯ll come every day. I don¡¯t care if you try to kill me or not."


    But now, just hours later, she was too scared to even walk to his door.


    Evening came. The sun dipped low, painting the sky a dull orange. Lydia sat on her bed, her legs pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them.


    Her eyes stayed fixed on the door.


    She didn¡¯t move.


    ---


    In Ivan¡¯s chambers, the candle by his bedside burned low. He had been awake all day, eyes half-closed, resting his head back against the pillow.


    He hadn¡¯t realized he was waiting until the knock never came.


    When a soft knock finally echoed on the door, he jerked up¡ªtoo fast.


    His breath caught. "Come in."


    The door creaked open and a servant stepped inside, head bowed low and eyes wide with fear.


    Ivan¡¯s face hardened. "What?"


    The servant stammered, "F-forgive me, Your Highness. The blacksmith is requesting your approval to repair the eastern gates. He says the damage is spreading."


    Ivan didn¡¯t answer for a moment. His eyes flickered to the empty doorway behind the servant.


    "I¡¯ll sign the order in the morning," he muttered.


    "Yes, Your Highness." The servant bowed and fled.


    The door closed again. Silence returned.


    Ivan stared at the door.


    "Why was I even waiting?" he said out loud, to no one. "She said she would come. She didn¡¯t."


    He let out a soft scoff.


    "Of course she didn¡¯t."


    ---


    The next morning...


    Lydia woke up with a jolt.


    The sunlight poured into her room, warm and yellow. It hit her face through the thin curtains.


    Her heart sank.


    She had fallen asleep. She hadn¡¯t gone.


    Her promise. She broke it.


    She sat up quickly, brushing her tangled hair behind her ears. Her heart pounded, not from guilt alone¡ªbut from fear too.


    Would he be angry?


    Would he say anything?


    Would he... do anything?


    She took a few breaths, then stood, dressing quickly with the help of the maids. She didn¡¯t speak. She didn¡¯t eat. She just walked.


    Her steps slowed when she reached his door. For a moment, she just stood there, hand hovering over the knob, her palm sweating.


    Then she knocked.


    "Who is it?" came his voice.


    She cleared her throat. "It¡¯s Lydia."


    Silence.


    Then, "Come in."


    She stepped inside.


    He was awake, lying back, arms crossed loosely on his chest. His face was unreadable. The bandage across his chest had started to loosen.


    Without saying anything, Lydia walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. She gently reached for his arm and helped him sit up.


    He didn¡¯t resist.


    She began to change the dressing, her hands trembling just a little.


    Still, she avoided his eyes.


    He watched her quietly.


    "You didn¡¯t come last night," he said suddenly.


    She paused.


    Then, slowly, she turned and looked straight at him. Her eyes were wide, a little tired, but honest.


    "I fell asleep," she said. "I was tired. I¡¯m sorry."


    He blinked once. "Did you think I was waiting?"


    She didn¡¯t answer.


    He added, "I wasn¡¯t."


    Still, she said nothing.


    When she was done, she gently helped him lie back down. As she leaned forward, a few strands of her hair fell loose across her face.


    He reached up, almost without thinking, and tucked them behind her ear.


    Her breath caught.


    Not from fear¡ªbut something else.


    She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.


    "You¡¯re done," he said suddenly. "You can leave." S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She hesitated. "Okay."


    But she didn¡¯t move right away.


    "Is there something else?" he asked.


    "No," she said quickly.


    She stood and walked toward the door, leaving without looking back.


    ---


    Back in her room, Lydia sat down on the edge of her bed.


    Her fingers played with the hem of her sleeve.


    "Could he really have done those things?" she whispered to herself.


    The look in his eyes... it wasn¡¯t anger. It wasn¡¯t cruel. It was sad.


    Even that night, when he had a nightmare, he sounded scared.


    Not like a monster. Not like someone with no heart.


    "What happened to him?" she whispered again. "What broke him?"


    ---


    In Ivan¡¯s room, he sat up slightly, staring at his fingers.


    He hadn¡¯t meant to touch her hair.


    Why had he done that?


    Why did he find himself waiting?


    He scoffed softly.


    "She¡¯s just a girl," he muttered. "She¡¯s nothing."


    But still, his eyes flicked to the door.


    And stayed there.

 Chapter 23: The Stroll With The Devil

    Chapter 23: The Stroll With The DevilThe next morning, Ivan was alone in his chambers. The light filtering through the windows was soft, but his mood wasn¡¯t. After a while, he decided to take a walk. He didn¡¯t call for help. He didn¡¯t like people fussing over him. He just needed to move. Despite still being in pain


    .


    As he stepped into the hallway, the guards straightened and bowed quickly, their eyes full of fear. The maids walking past him held their breath and bowed their heads until he passed. No one dared speak. He said nothing either. He was used to it. The Hate. The Fear. The way they all avoided him.


    He walked slowly, his steps heavy. Without much thought, he found himself standing at the door to the library. He pushed it open and stepped inside. It was quiet. Dust floated in the sunbeams. He liked the stillness here.


    As he walked between the shelves, his eyes landed on the tall one at the far end. He remembered something¡ªsomething small, but it lingered. Lydia, standing right there, stretching her arm out, trying to reach something. A map. She had struggled, her fingers barely touching the edge.


    He had walked up behind her that day, taken it with ease, and looked at it. Just a plain map of the seas. He had muttered to himself, "What would she even do with this?"


    Now, he reached up and took down the same map. He stared at it for a second before placing it back on the top shelf.


    That¡¯s when the pain hit.


    Sharp. Deep.


    He gasped, clutched his side. Blood seeped through his shirt. His vision blurred. His grip on the ladder slipped and he fell.


    A heavy thud echoed in the library.


    The guard standing at the door rushed in. "Your Highness!" he shouted, running to him.


    "Don¡¯t touch me," Ivan growled, trying to push himself up.


    The guard panicked. "I¡¯ll get Her Highness!" he said and ran off.


    ---


    Lydia was in her chambers. Two maids were helping her into her gown when the guard burst in, breathless.


    "Your Highness! It¡¯s His Highness, the Grand Duke! He¡¯s hurt. The library¡ª"


    Lydia didn¡¯t wait to hear more. She pushed past the maids, grabbed her slippers, and ran.


    She found him on the floor, blood on his shirt, pale as paper.


    "What were you doing?" she whispered, kneeling beside him. "Why were you even up there?"


    "Don¡¯t scold me," he muttered, his voice weak.


    She ignored him. "Get up, Your Highness. Come on. Slowly. I¡¯ll help."


    He winced, but let her wrap an arm around his waist. She was small, but steady. She walked him all the way back to his chambers, step by slow step, whispering soft encouragements.


    When they reached his bed, he sank onto it with a heavy sigh. Lydia called for warm water and cloth. The servants brought them, but she waved them out. She didn¡¯t want anyone else touching him.


    She cleaned the blood carefully, biting her lip as he winced.


    "This must hurt," she whispered more to herself than him.


    He said nothing, but he heard her.


    When she looked up, he was watching her hands.


    "What?" she asked.


    He didn¡¯t blink. "They¡¯re small."


    She paused. "What did you say?"


    He didn¡¯t answer. Just looked away.


    ---


    Hours passed. Ivan lay in bed, stiff and silent. His stomach growled.


    A servant brought in a tray of food. Ivan glared at it. "Take it away."


    The servant bowed and left.


    Later, Lydia came back with a smaller tray. She placed it beside his bed.


    "You need to eat, Your Highness."


    He didn¡¯t move.


    She sat beside him, lifted the spoon. "You¡¯re too weak to hold this. Let me."


    He stared at her. "You must be enjoying this."


    She smiled faintly. "A little."


    She fed him slowly. Quietly. There was no teasing. No mocking. Just soft spoonfuls and small glances.


    At one point, their eyes met. Neither looked away for a few seconds. Then she dipped the spoon again.


    ---


    Later, she brought a book and sat in the corner of the room.


    "What are you doing?" he asked.


    "Reading. It helps me relax."


    "Be quiet."


    She turned a page. "I will. After this Chapter."


    Her voice was soft, like the rustling of leaves.


    Hours passed. Her head slowly dropped. She dozed off, the book falling to her lap.


    Ivan sat up carefully. His body hurt, but not as bad as before. He stood slowly and walked to her.


    She stirred. "Your Highness? Do you need something?"


    "It¡¯s stuffy."


    She blinked. "Let¡¯s go for a walk."


    ---


    Outside, the night was calm. The garden was quiet, empty. She helped him down the steps and into the path.


    He didn¡¯t speak. Just walked slowly, each step careful. She stayed beside him, holding his arm.


    "The flowers look different at night," she said. "Don¡¯t you think?"


    He gave no reply.


    "When I was little, I used to sneak out to look at the stars. My maid always caught me, though."


    Still, silence.


    She continued, "When I was young, I used to go voyaging with my parents to the sea. The night sky here reminds me of the one at sea. Everything is just clear and beautiful."


    She laughed softly. "You¡¯re a good listener, Your Highness."


    As they turned near the rose bushes, her foot slipped on a stone. She let out a tiny gasp.


    Ivan caught her arm fast, holding her steady.


    She looked up.


    He looked down.


    Their eyes locked. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He let go.


    ---


    They sat on a bench, the moonlight soft on their faces. Lydia brushed her hair behind her ear and turned to him.


    "Your Highness, may I ask something?"


    He sighed. "You already are."


    She smiled. "What was your favorite food as a boy?"


    He stared at the dark trees ahead. "That¡¯s a stupid question."


    She nodded. "Maybe. But I still want to know."


    Silence.


    Then, after a long pause, he said, "Boiled sweet potatoes."


    She blinked. "Really?"


    He nodded once.


    She smiled wide. "That surprises me."


    He looked away. "It surprises me too."


    ---


    She walked him back to his chambers and helped him lie down. She tucked the blanket around him and stood.


    "Goodnight, Your Highness."


    He didn¡¯t respond.


    She turned and left quietly.


    Back in her room, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.


    Maybe he¡¯s not a monster, she thought.


    ---


    In his chamber, Ivan stared at the door.


    Why isn¡¯t she scared of me? he wondered.

 Chapter 24: Whispers in the Dark

    Chapter 24: Whispers in the DarkThe queen had tasked me to spy on the Grand Duke, Ivan Romanov. So far... this is the only thing I know about him.


    Lydia stared at the ceiling, her fingers curling into the blanket. Sleep wouldn¡¯t come. Her mind was loud¡ªtoo loud.


    She turned to her side and sighed. "How am I supposed to spy on someone who barely speaks?" she muttered to herself.


    Still, she remembered what she¡¯d promised herself. If she ever noticed something about him, anything at all... she¡¯d write it down.


    She sat up slowly, rubbing her arms as the night breeze tickled her skin. Then she threw the blanket off and slipped out of bed.


    With a quiet flick, she lit the small lamp on her writing table. Its soft golden light filled the room. She pulled open her drawer and brought out her diary¡ªa simple leather-bound book with no name.


    Flipping to the first page, her eyes landed on the words she¡¯d written on her first day in the palace.


    He killed many at the age of sixteen.


    He is cruel.


    He is a monster.


    He¡¯s the devil.


    Her chest tightened as she read it again. It felt so wrong now¡ªlike a lie written by someone else. With a frown, she tore the page out and crumpled it, throwing it aside. It bounced once on the floor.


    She opened to a new page and dipped her pen into the ink.


    His eyes look sad.


    He looks in pain.


    I want to know more about him.


    I want to talk to him.


    I don¡¯t know what happened, but... I don¡¯t believe he¡¯s a monster.


    If only he would let me get close to him.


    She paused, biting her lower lip, before adding:


    The only thing I know about him is the food he loved as a boy. Boiled sweet potatoes.


    At least it¡¯s something.


    Maybe I¡¯m making progress...


    She didn¡¯t even know when her eyes closed. The book lay open on her chest, her pen still in hand, the lamp flickering softly beside her.


    ---


    Katherine tiptoed into the room hours later, noticing the soft light glowing under the door. "She must have forgotten to put it out," she whispered.


    As she moved closer to the bed, she smiled. Lydia lay sleeping peacefully, the diary tucked against her chest like a treasured secret.


    Katherine reached out carefully to take it, but Lydia stirred. Her hand tightened around the book.


    "What is it?" Lydia mumbled, still half-asleep. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Shh, it¡¯s just me," Katherine said. "I saw your light was still on, so I came to check on you."


    Lydia yawned. "Oh... sorry. I was reading."


    "I can see that," Katherine chuckled. "Didn¡¯t mean to wake you."


    "It¡¯s fine..." Lydia held the book close. "It¡¯s my diary."


    Katherine¡¯s brows lifted slightly, but she nodded. "Alright then, Your Highness. I¡¯ll let you rest."


    As the door closed behind her, Lydia sat up again, rubbing her eyes. But sleep still refused to return. Her thoughts drifted, uninvited.


    She tossed. Turned. Huffed. Then finally sat up with a sigh.


    "I need some air," she muttered.


    Pulling a shawl over her shoulders, she quietly slipped out of her room and walked through the palace¡¯s dark halls. Her steps echoed faintly. The night was heavy, still.


    She paused in front of a familiar door.


    Ivan¡¯s.


    Her fingers hovered near the handle.


    What am I doing? she scolded herself. It¡¯s the middle of the night. Why am I here?


    She stepped back... then forward again.


    Maybe he has a fever, she reasoned. He was hurt... I just want to check.


    She slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open.


    Darkness.


    Only the moonlight seeping in from the window gave the room shape.


    He was lying on the bed, still and quiet. But even from here, she could see his brows furrowed in sleep. His body twitched slightly, like he was fighting something in his dreams.


    Then he groaned.


    "No... stop..."


    Lydia¡¯s eyes widened. She took a cautious step forward.


    Suddenly, he bolted upright with a gasp, eyes wild. Before she could speak, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, tight¡ªpainfully tight.


    "Ivan!" she gasped. "It¡¯s me¡ªLydia!"


    His breathing was fast. Chest rising and falling. Eyes scanning her like she was a threat... then slowly recognizing her face.


    He let go.


    "I didn¡¯t mean to scare you," she whispered. "You were having a nightmare..."


    He said nothing. Just looked away.


    "Are you alright, Your Highness?"


    Still nothing.


    She knelt beside the bed, concern etched on her face. "I... I just wanted to make sure you were okay."


    "I¡¯m fine," he said, voice low and hoarse. "You can go."


    She slowly stood, turning toward the door. But then his voice came again.


    "Wait... could you... light the lamp?"


    She looked back.


    "I... can¡¯t sleep in the dark."


    She gave a soft nod, heart tugging.


    She lit the lamp on his table. The warm glow washed over his pale face.


    "There," she said gently. "Sleep well."


    She walked out quietly, but her thoughts didn¡¯t rest.


    He always has nightmares. What does he see? What¡¯s chasing him in the dark?


    ---


    The next morning...


    Lydia rose early and bathed. Her mind was still on Ivan. She dressed quickly, grabbed her medicine box, and headed straight to his chambers.


    "Good morning, Your Highness," she greeted, entering his room.


    He was already sitting on the bed, shirtless, his wound exposed.


    "I came to change your dressing."


    He nodded without a word.


    She sat beside him and began cleaning the wound gently.


    "I¡¯m sorry about last night," she said softly. "I didn¡¯t mean to wake you."


    He didn¡¯t respond.


    She continued, hands working gently, eyes focused.


    "I forgot something," she said suddenly, standing. "One of the ointments¡ªI¡¯ll be back!"


    He watched her rush out of the room.


    When she returned, breathless, her cheeks were flushed.


    "Ugh, I¡¯m so clumsy," she said, half-laughing. "I placed it right next to my mirror and still¡ª"


    He wasn¡¯t listening.


    All he could hear was her breathing.


    His eyes locked on her lips as they moved. Then her neck... her chest. The way it rose and fell with every breath.


    Why can¡¯t I think?


    The pounding in his chest grew louder than her voice.


    "I¡¯m done," she finally said with a soft smile, turning to pack up.


    Before she could move away, his hand shot out and pulled her back.


    "Ah!" she gasped, stumbling as the tray clattered to the floor.


    She looked up, stunned, her face inches from his.


    "Ivan¡ª"


    "What have you done to me?" he whispered, voice rough, eyes dark.


    Her breath hitched. The space between them was charged¡ªelectric.


    "Your Highness¡ª"


    But neither moved.


    His hand was still on her arm, his eyes flicking to her lips again.


    The lamp flickered.


    And for the first time, she didn¡¯t pull away.

 Chapter 25: A Wound That Lingers

    Chapter 25: A Wound That LingersHe had pulled her close. So close she could feel his breath brushing against her cheek.


    Lydia¡¯s heart pounded in her chest as her eyes locked with his. His grip was strong, firm... but there was no anger. Just something else. Something she couldn¡¯t name.


    "Your Highness..." she whispered, confused. "What did I do?"


    He didn¡¯t respond. He just kept staring at her like he couldn¡¯t look away. His eyes, usually cold and distant, were stormy and restless now. For a brief second, it felt like he might say something. Like he might let her in.


    But then¡ªhe snapped out of it.


    His expression shifted, as if he had suddenly realized something terrible. His grip loosened, and he pushed her back¡ªtoo roughly.


    "Leave," he said sharply. "I want to be alone."


    Lydia blinked, startled. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The warmth of his hand still lingered on her skin, but his tone had turned cold.


    Without a word, she turned and left.


    As she walked through the corridor, her mind raced. Her feet moved on their own, but her thoughts stayed behind in that room.


    What just happened?


    Did I say something wrong? Did I hurt him my mistake?


    Why did he pull me close... only to push me away?


    She reached her chambers and collapsed on the bed, burying her face in her pillow. Her heart was too loud. Her thoughts too heavy.


    What did I do to him?


    BackattheCapital


    Queen Olga sat in her room, her hands resting on her lap. The air felt heavy, suffocating. She rose from her seat and left the palace, claiming she needed some air.


    Her carriage passed through the outer gates, the horses trotting quietly along a path that curved through the valley. Just by the side, a field of wildflowers bloomed in colors that danced with the wind.


    Two teenage girls were running through the flowers, giggling, their hair flowing behind them like silk. Their baskets were already full, but they didn¡¯t stop. They kept running, barefoot, free.


    Queen Olga looked at them through the carriage window.


    Her eyes were sad. Hollow.


    She stared as if the girls haunted her.


    As if they reminded her of something she didn¡¯t want to remember.


    Back at Svetlana


    The palace was quiet.


    Lydia sat in the grand library, a book open on her lap. She had been reading for hours, but nothing stayed in her head. Every now and then, her mind drifted back to him. To his hand. His eyes. His silence.


    The sun had begun to set, golden light pouring in through the tall windows. She closed the book and stood up, stretching her stiff arms.


    As she turned to leave, her foot brushed against something on the floor.


    She bent down and picked it up.


    It was the old map she had been trying to reach that day.


    It was lying near the shelf where she found him that day... when his wound had reopened.


    Her fingers tightened around it.


    Could he have been trying to bring it down for me?


    Her heart fluttered. She shook her head and clutched the map to her chest. Why would he...?


    Back at the Capital


    Queen Olga sat at her desk, her hair still damp from a bath. Her face was pale. Her lips dry. She didn¡¯t speak a word.


    Slowly, she reached for the drawer and pulled out an old, dusty book.


    As soon as she opened it, her eyes filled with sadness.


    A brief memory flickered in her mind¡ªtwo young girls, side by side, giggling, running through a field just like the one she saw earlier. One had black hair and deep blue eyes. The other, golden hair and sky-blue eyes.


    She looked down.


    The first page of the book read: To my precious Olga.


    Her hands trembled. A tear slid down her cheek. She hesitated before flipping the page, but her fingers wouldn¡¯t move.


    Then the memory changed. The two girls, now young women, stood facing each other. Tears rolled down their cheeks.


    Olga¡¯s sadness turned cold. Her jaw clenched.


    She slammed the book shut and shoved it back into the drawer, her voice shaking with rage.


    "I will never forgive you," she whispered. "You stole my happiness. And I will make sure he never sees his. I will make him suffer... every single day of his life."


    Next Morning


    Lydia knocked lightly and entered Ivan¡¯s room with the medicine. The air felt heavy again. Quiet. He was seated by the window, back turned.


    "I came to change the dressing," she said softly.


    He didn¡¯t say a word.


    She walked to him and gently unbuttoned his shirt. Her fingers touched his skin, soft and careful. He didn¡¯t flinch, but she could feel his body tense. The moment her hand brushed his chest, his breath caught. His muscles tightened.


    Her touch was warm, too warm.


    His skin burned under it.


    She smiled faintly. "Your wound is healing faster than I expected," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "I guess even your body doesn¡¯t like staying weak for long."


    Still, he didn¡¯t respond.


    Her smile faded. "Ivan? Are you okay?"


    No answer.


    She leaned forward, placing the back of her hand on his forehead. "Are you sick¡ª"


    "Don¡¯t touch me."


    His voice was cold. Sharp.


    Lydia froze. Her hand slowly dropped.


    "I don¡¯t need your help anymore," he said. "You don¡¯t have to come tomorrow."


    She stared at him. "Why?"


    "I¡¯m leaving for a trip," he replied flatly, standing up and turning away. "And I don¡¯t want to be disturbed."


    She looked at him with glassy eyes, her lips parted in disbelief.


    "I... I didn¡¯t mean to upset you," she whispered.


    "Just leave."


    He didn¡¯t look at her.


    She turned around and walked out quietly, biting her lip to stop it from trembling.


    The door closed behind her with a soft thud.


    Ivan remained standing in the center of the room. His eyes were empty, but his hands slowly rose... and traced the skin where she had touched him.


    Next Morning


    He left early.


    Lydia stood outside, watching the carriage being prepared. She waited by the steps, hands folded tightly in front of her.


    When Ivan appeared, she took a small step forward.


    "Safe journey," she said softly. "Please... take care of yourself." Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He didn¡¯t reply.


    Not even a glance.


    He climbed into the carriage, the door shut, and within moments, the horses began to move.


    Lydia stood still, watching him disappear into the distance.


    Her chest ached. Her heart felt heavy.


    She didn¡¯t understand what she did wrong.


    But somehow, it still hurt.

 Chapter 26: The Distance Between Us

    Chapter 26: The Distance Between UsLydia stood at the palace entrance, eyes fixed on the path ahead as Ivan¡¯s carriage disappeared into the early morning fog. She didn¡¯t move. She didn¡¯t blink. Her heart felt like it was being pulled away with the wheels of that carriage.


    She didn¡¯t even know why it hurt so much.


    Inside the carriage, Ivan found himself turning around. His eyes searched the back window¡ªthere she was, still standing in the same place. Why? Why couldn¡¯t he stop looking? Why did guilt claw at his chest like he was doing something wrong?


    Why did it feel like he was leaving something important behind?


    He looked away quickly, jaw clenched tight.


    Back at the palace, Lydia finally turned around and walked back inside. Her steps were slow, her chest heavy. She quietly followed her routine like a ghost in her own body. She bathed, dressed, ate¡ªbut it was lifeless. Nothing felt the same.


    The days passed slowly.


    At the Zolotaria Border


    Ivan¡¯s carriage came to a halt near the outpost nestled between Zolotaria and Velgorod¡ªa harsh, freezing kingdom that bordered them from the north. He had travelled alongside General Petrov after news arrived about three missing soldiers. Only two corpses had returned¡ªcold, lifeless, and drained of blood. Locals whispered about spirits, demons, and curses.


    But Ivan believed in steel, not stories.


    They entered the command office where the report had come in. A senior soldier stepped forward. "Your Highness, we found the first body near the old birch grove two days ago. The second, last night. But the third... we haven¡¯t found him yet."


    Ivan narrowed his eyes. "Take me there. Now."


    In the thick of the forest, silence ruled. Snow cracked under their boots. After hours of searching and observing, Ivan knelt by a tree.


    "Here," he muttered, brushing the leaves aside.


    General Petrov came closer. "What is it?"


    "Footprints," Ivan pointed. "Human. Heavy boots. And not military-issued."


    Petrov frowned. "So it¡¯s not a spirit."


    "No," Ivan said. "It¡¯s rebels. Amateurs."


    A few meters further, the third corpse was found under a large root. A boy. Seventeen at most. Eyes open. Throat slit clean but shaky.


    Ivan studied the body closely, his gloved fingers tracing the edge of the wound.


    "Whoever did this had little training," he said. "Rushed. They¡¯re scared. Desperate. And that makes them dangerous."


    He stood up and faced the officers. "We¡¯re not dealing with ghosts. We¡¯re dealing with fools trying to rise against the Czar."


    "We¡¯ll hunt them," Petrov said.


    Ivan nodded. "And we¡¯ll catch every last one."


    Back at Svetlana


    Lydia tossed and turned all night, the silence of the palace pressing down on her. She missed him¡ªhis silence, his anger, his voice. Everything.


    By morning, she was curled up in his bed. She didn¡¯t know when she fell asleep.


    "Your Highness?" Katherine¡¯s voice knocked on the door.


    Lydia opened her eyes slowly. "Katherine?"


    "I¡¯ll be accompanying you today," she said with a small smile. "It¡¯s time you began your duties as Grand Duchess."


    Before she could say anything, her maids were already preparing her. She bathed quickly, and they helped her into a deep purple dress. Her long hair was brushed and tied into a neat low chignon.


    "You look beautiful," Katherine said. "Let¡¯s go."


    They rode in a small carriage into the heart of Svetlana. The town was quiet. Snow danced gently in the air, dusting the cobblestone roads. The people walked around, dressed in worn coats, their heads bowed to the wind.


    Lydia turned to Katherine. "What exactly are we doing?"


    "The past Grand Duchess used to give winter funds to orphans and poor families. It¡¯s been twelve years since then. It¡¯s your duty now."


    When they arrived at the edge of the town where the peasants lived, everything went still. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The moment Lydia stepped out, all eyes locked onto her. Fearful. Cold. Resentful.


    The village head stepped forward, his wife beside him.


    "You should leave," he said before she could open her mouth.


    Lydia blinked. "But... you haven¡¯t even heard why I¡¯m here."


    "We know," the wife said with clenched teeth. "Everyone knows who you are. And we don¡¯t want anything from you."


    The villagers stood frozen, looking at her like she was a monster. A curse.


    Katherine touched her arm gently. "We should go."


    They returned without a word.


    That night, as Katherine helped her bathe, she said gently, "Forget about them, Your Highness. People fear what they don¡¯t understand."


    Lydia went quiet.


    Maybe that¡¯s it... Maybe Ivan isn¡¯t a monster. Maybe he¡¯s just misunderstood. Everyone fears him because they don¡¯t understand him.


    Maybe... if they do, they won¡¯t fear him anymore.


    Excited, Lydia jumped out of the water, dried quickly, and dressed herself. As soon as everyone left, she took out her diary and began writing:


    "I¡¯ll make sure everyone understands him. I¡¯ll make sure no one calls him a monster or the devil again. I want the world to see the human he really is. All I have to do... is get him to open up. I want to understand him more than anything."


    She hugged the book to her chest and fell asleep smiling.


    Meanwhile, at the border...


    Ivan crouched in the woods. Snow fell lightly over his shoulders. He hadn¡¯t slept in two days.


    But all he could think about was her.


    He remember the night they walked together. How she talked about the night sky and loving to look at it.


    The night was beautiful, like she described. But Ivan felt nothing. Just cold and hollow.


    A sound broke through the stillness¡ªa soft crunch of dried grass behind him.


    Without turning fully, Ivan ducked and spun, catching a shadowed figure trying to sneak up on him. He struck hard, slamming his elbow into the man¡¯s gut and then uppercutting him under the jaw.


    The man dropped, unconscious.


    Ivan dragged him back to the camp, his knuckles bloodied.


    The next morning


    The rebel was tied to a wooden post. The soldiers interrogated him, whipped him, threatened him¡ªbut he refused to speak.


    By the second morning, Ivan entered alone.


    He sat across the man silently, eyes unreadable.


    Minutes passed.


    Finally, he spoke. "Do you know who I am?"


    The rebel shook his head.


    Ivan pulled out the silver mask from his coat. He slipped it over his face for only a second.


    The man gasped. "You¡ªYou¡¯re the Grand Duke... the Devil..."


    He began to shake. "I¡ªI¡¯ll talk... I¡¯ll talk please don¡¯t kill me."


    "Start."


    "They¡ªThey¡¯re in the forest! A hideout... by the old stone circle... there¡¯s three of us¡ªI mean, them!"


    Ivan studied him for a moment. "We¡¯ll see."


    Petrov, Ivan, and the head border soldier followed the man¡¯s lead into the woods. Ivan brought the rebel with him, tied to a rope.


    But as they reached the hideout, Ivan¡¯s instinct screamed.


    It was a trap.


    More than ten rebels poured out from behind the trees, weapons drawn.


    Ivan didn¡¯t hesitate.


    He moved fast¡ªone blade to the gut, another to the throat. He ducked, spun, slashed, and stabbed. Blood splattered across the snow. His coat was soaked in red. His face painted in crimson streaks.


    One after another¡ªthey fell. Begging. Screaming. Dying.


    When it was done, only the rebel remained, trembling in the corner.


    Ivan looked down at him, soaked in blood from head to toe.


    The rebel whispered, "P-please..."


    But Ivan said nothing.


    One clean strike ended him.


    He stood there, breathing hard, surrounded by silence and corpses.


    Alone again.

 Chapter 27: Is He Really The Devil

    Chapter 27: Is He Really The DevilIvan stood still amidst the ruin he had created. The stench of blood hung thick in the air, warm and metallic, clinging to his skin. Bodies lay in heaps¡ªsome twisted in pain, some still clutching weapons. Men who had screamed, begged, fought, and failed. He barely heard anything now. Just the silence after a storm.


    But then¡ªhe did hear something.


    A scream.


    A child¡¯s scream. A woman¡¯s sob. A dying man¡¯s final gasp.


    His breath hitched.


    The vision came over him like a wave, merciless and sudden.


    He was sixteen again.


    The grand halls of the palace were drenched in red. The very place that had raised him, trained him, caged him¡ªwas burning. Fire crackled in the distance. Servants ran. His sword dripped as he walked, barefoot, over the corpses of his kin. Eyes wide open. Lifeless. Unblinking. The blood soaked through his clothes, warm and sticky.


    There had been no mercy that night.


    The throne room had echoed with the cries of betrayal. He remembered how he hadn¡¯t even flinched.


    He looked down at his hands.


    They were drenched in blood¡ªagain.


    Just like that night.


    "Your Highness."


    The voice cut through the memory like a blade. Ivan blinked hard, the vision fading like mist.


    "Your Highness, are you alright?" General Nikolai Petrov stood beside him, concern etched into his lined face.


    Ivan turned his head slowly. The battlefield was quiet now. The dead remained dead.


    "I¡¯m fine," he said hoarsely, barely recognizing his own voice.


    Without another word, he turned and walked away from the field, each step heavy with the weight of ghosts.


    He reached a quiet river at the edge of the woods and knelt by the bank. The cold water sent shivers through him as he scrubbed at his skin, the blood refusing to let go as if it had soaked into his very bones.


    As he dragged his hand down his face, he heard a rustle.


    He froze.


    Another sound¡ªfaint. A movement from the trees.


    He grabbed his sword, rising to his feet.


    Step by step, he stalked toward the sound. The leaves parted.


    And there he was.


    A boy.


    Thin, no older than thirteen. Dirty, trembling, eyes wide with terror. His lip quivered, but he couldn¡¯t even speak. He had no strength to beg. From the ragged clothes and terrified expression, Ivan could tell¡ªhe was a rebel¡¯s child.


    The boy stared at the sword, expecting death.


    Footsteps approached from behind. Nikolai¡¯s voice echoed faintly, calling for Ivan.


    The boy flinched.


    Ivan stared a moment longer, his jaw clenched tight.


    Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sheathed his blade.


    "Go," he said. "Leave. Never return to this forest again."


    The boy¡¯s legs refused to move.


    Ivan took a step back, his voice colder. "Run."


    And finally, the boy fled.


    Just as he vanished between the trees, Nikolai emerged from the thicket. He looked around, his brows furrowing. "There you are. What were you doing?"


    Ivan shrugged, his tone flat. "Washing up."


    Nikolai chuckled. "No scratches on you, huh? Boris said your wife treated you up last time. Too bad you¡¯ve got no wounds now. I guess she won¡¯t pamper you like last time."


    Ivan said nothing. He was already walking away.


    They returned to the capital¡¯s outpost, then parted ways. Ivan rode back alone in his carriage, silent.


    ---


    A few days later ¡ª Svetlana


    Lydia stared at her writing.


    Her words danced mockingly on the page. Desperate. Passionate. Na?ve.


    How could she make them see Ivan for who he really was? Maybe if she talked to them. Maybe if they saw what she saw¡ªthe pain in his silence, the kindness in moments he thought no one was watching.


    But every time she stepped out of the carriage, the villagers looked at her like she was a demon in human form. Whispers. Fear. Avoidance.


    Was it the carriage? The silk gown? The title?


    No one listened to the Grand Duchess. But maybe... maybe if they didn¡¯t know she was the Grand Duchess, they might.


    But how could she go alone? Ivan would never allow it. The guards would follow her. She¡¯d be recognized instantly.


    Unless... she snuck out.


    She waited until the dead of night, when shadows blanketed the palace and even the guards dozed lightly. She crept through the quiet corridors, her heartbeat in her throat.


    She had almost reached the back gates when¡ª


    "Lydia?"


    She froze. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Katherine stood behind her, arms folded.


    "You don¡¯t have to act like a thief," she said with a sigh. "If you wanted fresh air, you could¡¯ve just told me."


    Lydia looked away, cheeks flushing.


    "It¡¯s dangerous at night," Katherine added. "How about tomorrow at dawn? I¡¯m heading to the market¡ªand visiting family. We could go together. Split up. Meet back in the evening?"


    Lydia¡¯s eyes lit up. She rushed forward and embraced her. "Thank you."


    ---


    The next morning ¡ª Dawn


    Katherine dressed her in a simple linen gown and dark cloak. No jewels. No hairstyle. Just a quiet village girl.


    They slipped past the guards easily, stepping into the cobblestone path toward town.


    The sun peeked over the hills. The market buzzed with life¡ªvendors shouting, children laughing, chickens darting through legs. The scent of bread and spice and leather filled the air.


    No one gave Lydia a second glance.


    She smiled, heart light for the first time in weeks.


    Katherine nudged her. "Two hours. Market square. Don¡¯t get lost, Your Highness."


    Lydia chuckled. "I won¡¯t."


    But the moment they parted, her eyes wandered to the path leading beyond the market¡ªtoward the village.


    She hesitated only briefly before following it.


    ---


    Elsewhere ¡ª Outskirts of Svetlana


    Ivan and Nikolai arrived at the border.


    "I¡¯ll take my leave here," Nikolai said, hopping off his horse. He turned to Ivan and smirked. "Try not to scare your wife too much. Heard she likes you better with bruises."


    Ivan didn¡¯t smile.


    "Farewell," he said simply.


    Nikolai bowed slightly and turned back toward the capital.


    ---


    Back at the village


    Lydia walked quietly through the small path. Children played by wells. Smoke drifted from rooftops. She kept her cloak pulled tight.


    No one noticed her.


    She asked a kind woman for directions to the village head¡¯s house and was led to a small wooden home with a slanted roof and worn steps.


    She knocked.


    A middle-aged woman opened the door, blinking.


    "Yes?"


    "I¡¯d like to speak to the village head, please."


    The woman hesitated, then opened the door wider. "He¡¯s not home yet. Come in. Sit."


    Lydia thanked her and waited.


    Soon, the man returned¡ªrough-faced, with calloused hands. A younger man walked beside him, and they spoke of the coming winter.


    "It¡¯ll be worse than last year," one said. "We might not make it through without food."


    Lydia stood up. "Forgive me for interrupting. But... the royal family¡ªmy husband¡ªhas sent aid before. Why not ask again?"


    The room went cold.


    The village head turned. "And who might you be?"


    She hesitated. Then spoke quietly. "I am Lydia. The Grand Duchess."


    The silence was deafening.


    The man¡¯s eyes darkened. "Leave."


    She blinked. "What? Why?"


    "We want nothing from him."


    "But¡ª"


    "We know you¡¯re not like him. You¡¯re kind. But your husband? He¡¯s a monster. He kills without blinking. We¡¯d rather starve than bow to a man like that."


    Lydia¡¯s voice trembled. "He¡¯s not what you think¡ª"


    "He murdered my brother!" the younger man spat. "He was a rebel, yes, but he didn¡¯t deserve to be butchered like an animal!"


    Lydia tried again, but they turned away.


    She stood in the quiet house, heart cracking slowly, as the door was held open for her.

 Chapter 28: A Night With The Devil pt1

    Chapter 28: A Night With The Devil pt1Lydia walked away from the village, her heart heavy and sore. She didn¡¯t know what hurt more¡ªwhat she heard or how easily she believed it. Her feet carried her without direction, until she reached the market square. She sat on a stone bench, her hands in her lap, trying to gather herself. People passed, but she didn¡¯t notice any of them.


    After about an hour, Katherine showed up, her voice light and curious. "Was your visit okay?"


    Lydia forced a small smile. "Yes, it was fine."


    Katherine didn¡¯t push further. They walked back to the palace together.


    Meanwhile, Ivan stood by the window in his chambers, his brows furrowed. He had waited for her. He told himself it didn¡¯t matter¡ªbut it did. She hadn¡¯t shown up, and he didn¡¯t know why.


    "Why do I even care?" he muttered to himself.


    He tried to distract his mind and walked to the library, hoping a book would do the trick. But no matter what he read, his thoughts drifted back to her. Again and again.


    Back at the palace, Lydia was quiet. The entire walk had felt like a blur, and even the sight of the palace didn¡¯t shake her from her thoughts. When they stepped inside, something about the air felt different, but she was too tired to think much of it.


    "I¡¯m exhausted," she said softly. "I just want a bath."


    Katherine nodded. "I¡¯ll tell your maids to prepare one."


    Lydia walked straight to her chambers and sat at the edge of her bed. A few minutes later, the maids arrived with warm water and a fresh nightgown. They helped her undress carefully, speaking softly as they prepared her bath.


    Not long after, Katherine came in again, this time with a tray of food. "I noticed Your Highness didn¡¯t eat much."


    Lydia managed a grateful smile. "Thank you."


    She soaked quietly in the warm bath, trying to relax, though her chest still felt tight.


    As Katherine folded a towel, she spoke casually. "His Highness is back."


    Lydia¡¯s heart jumped, and she nearly slipped underwater. "What?"


    She quickly composed herself. "Oh... I see."


    The moment Katherine left and the maids were done, Lydia dressed in her nightgown, her hair still damp. She tried to act normal, but her steps quickened as soon as she was alone. The hallway felt quiet. Too quiet.


    She made her way to Ivan¡¯s chambers and pushed the door open gently. The room was empty.


    Her heart sank. Maybe he¡¯s training... I¡¯ll come back later, she thought.


    What she didn¡¯t know was that Ivan, instead of going to his room, had found himself standing in front of hers.


    He hesitated at first, but then opened the door and stepped inside. It was the first time he had ever entered her chambers. The room smelled faintly like roses and soap. Everything looked softer, neater. So different from his space. He walked in slowly, almost careful not to touch anything.


    His eyes landed on a small book on her reading table. Her diary.


    He reached for it, curious. His fingers brushed the cover¡ªand that¡¯s when the door opened.


    Lydia stood frozen. Her eyes locked on the diary in his hand.


    "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    She rushed over and snatched the book from him. In the process, she accidentally hit him in the stomach.


    He winced.


    Her heart dropped. "Did I hurt you?" she asked, panicking. "Oh no¡ªyour wound!"


    Ivan tried to speak. "I¡¯m fine¡ª"


    "I didn¡¯t mean to hit you. I¡¯m sorry." She dropped the book and placed both hands on his chest. "Sit down. Please."


    He let her guide him to the bed. She was trembling slightly, her fingers already working to unbutton his shirt. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You don¡¯t have to¡ª" he started, but she didn¡¯t listen.


    The shirt came open, and she sighed in relief when she saw the wound had healed. Just a scar remained.


    "Oh," she muttered, a little embarrassed. Her hands were still on his chest. She tried to move them but couldn¡¯t.


    Ivan watched her quietly. She looked flustered, unsure of herself.


    "I thought it reopened," she said. "I¡¯m sorry."


    She tried to stand, but his hand caught her wrist.


    "Do you only want to be near me when I¡¯m hurt?" he asked, his voice low.


    She blinked, confused. "What?"


    Before she could pull away, he drew her in gently, guiding her onto his lap, her knees straddling his thighs.


    Their eyes met.


    Ivan lay back on the bed, his body bare, scars marking his skin like they were a part of him. Lydia straddled him, her nightgown barely hanging on, the heat between them impossible to ignore.


    She couldn¡¯t stop herself. Her fingers traced his scars, feeling the rough, jagged lines of his past. Her touch was light, exploring, and the more she traced, the more she wanted. Her lips found one of the deeper scars across his stomach, and without thinking, she kissed it.


    The moment her lips touched his skin, Ivan¡¯s body tensed, his breath catching. Lydia kissed the scar again, soft at first, but the hunger in her grew. She moved lower, her lips following the lines of his body, tasting him, feeling the heat of him.


    His hands slid up her legs, slow and deliberate. The heat in his touch made her gasp. His fingers moved higher, slipping under the edge of her nightgown, his hand brushing the soft skin of her thighs.


    She shivered when his hand moved closer, touching the fabric of her underwear, his fingers brushing against her, feeling the warmth of her. Her body went rigid, her breath coming faster. She wanted him to touch more, deeper, and he knew it.


    Ivan didn¡¯t wait. His hand moved between her legs, finding her soaked, trembling with need. He didn¡¯t give her time to think, his fingers sliding inside her without hesitation.


    Lydia gasped, her body arching toward him as his fingers moved inside her, rough and relentless. She couldn¡¯t hold back the moan that escaped her lips. She wanted more, needed more, but he was in control now.


    Her hands scrambled to pull at his chest, her nails digging into his skin, but Ivan didn¡¯t let up. His grip on her tightened, holding her in place, his fingers pushing deeper, making her cry out...

 Chapter 29: A Night With The Devil pt2

    Chapter 29: A Night With The Devil pt2Lydia sat on his lap, her chest rising and falling quickly. Her legs straddled his, the thin fabric of her nightgown barely clinging to her skin. Ivan¡¯s hands rested on her waist, his thumb slowly moving in circles as if he was holding himself back. Her lips were still parted from the moan she¡¯d let slip¡ªhis name, soft and needy.


    "Ivan..." she breathed again, her voice barely a whisper.


    That sound¡ªhis name from her lips like a plea¡ªdid something to him.


    He sat upright quickly, his arms tightening around her. His chest pressed against hers, their skin hot. His breath came fast, uneven, like he was trying to stay in control but couldn¡¯t. Lydia¡¯s hands trembled slightly as she reached for him again, but this time, it was her who leaned in.


    She kissed him.


    At first, it was gentle. Her lips moved slowly over his, savoring the feel of him. But that soft kiss wasn¡¯t enough. Not for her. Not for him. The need between them had been building, waiting, too long.


    She kissed him harder, pushing closer, her fingers gripping his hair. Ivan responded instantly. His arms wrapped tightly around her body, his lips pressing back with a hunger that surprised even him. Their mouths moved together, deep and messy, filled with desperation and heat.


    He kissed her like he needed her¡ªlike he couldn¡¯t breathe without her.


    Lydia moaned softly into his mouth, and he groaned at the sound. His hands slid down to her thighs, gripping them before moving up under her nightgown. His fingers brushed against her bare skin, slow, teasing. She gasped against his lips, her hips grinding slightly on his lap.


    He pulled back only for a breath, eyes searching hers. His thumb traced the corner of her mouth before he leaned in again. This time, he kissed the corner of her lips, then her jaw, then her ear. "You drive me insane," he whispered.


    Her fingers trailed up under his shirt, palms gliding over the warmth of his skin, the sharp ridges of his abs, the scar above his ribs. She pressed her lips to his throat, kissing softly, then nipping just beneath his ear. Ivan cursed under his breath and pulled her tighter, his control slipping with every sound she made.


    Her nightgown shifted as she moved, one strap falling from her shoulder. Ivan¡¯s eyes dropped, breath catching at the exposed skin. He brushed his lips over her bare shoulder, slow and reverent, then lower, down the slope of her collarbone, tasting her with every kiss.


    Lydia¡¯s hands slid down to the waistband of his pants, her fingers dipping beneath the fabric without going further. She could feel him, the tension in his body, the way he trembled just barely beneath her touch.


    He kissed her there¡ªher chest, her shoulder, her collarbone¡ªwith a reverence that burned more than lust. Every press of his lips made her want more. She arched into him, desperate for friction, and he let out a low groan that vibrated against her skin.


    And then his lips traveled lower.


    Ivan shifted slightly, slipping the other strap of her nightgown down. It fell off her shoulders, revealing her bare breasts. He stared for a second, his breath catching, before leaning in.


    He kissed the swell of one breast first, his lips slow and warm against her skin. Lydia¡¯s breath hitched. He moved to the other, doing the same, kissing the soft curve before finally taking one nipple into his mouth.


    Her head fell back instantly, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. His tongue circled the sensitive bud before he sucked, slow and deep, drawing another moan from her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he worked her with his mouth, switching to the other nipple, teasing her with the same agonizing care.


    She squirmed beneath him, overwhelmed by the heat and sensation. His hands held her firmly, guiding her hips to grind gently against him as he sucked on her breast again, his tongue flicking against her peak before pulling it into his mouth once more.


    Her entire body was on fire.


    "Ivan..." she moaned, breathless.


    He looked up at her, lips wet, eyes dark with hunger. "What on earth have you done to me?"


    She whispered, "I want you..."


    Ivan¡¯s hand moved to her back, holding her close. He laid her down on the bed beneath him, gently but with a kind of urgency he couldn¡¯t hide. His body hovered over hers, his mouth claiming hers again, rougher this time. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, holding him in place.


    He groaned when their bodies pressed close, feeling the heat of her through the thin fabric.


    Lydia¡¯s fingers roamed across his chest, down his abs, feeling the warmth of his skin, every scar, every inch of him. Her hands were shaking. Her body was burning.


    She moaned again, louder this time. His name slipped from her lips like a prayer.


    "Ivan..."


    He kissed her harder, his hand sliding between her legs again. He touched her slowly, his fingers moving gently over the wet fabric. She was already trembling. Her breath hitched as his touch grew bolder, and she arched her back, wanting more.


    Ivan leaned in and kissed the curve of her breast, his lips soft and warm against her sensitive skin. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him there as her body writhed beneath him. His name left her lips again, broken and breathless.


    "Tell me to stop," he said suddenly, his voice low and ragged.


    She didn¡¯t. She couldn¡¯t.


    Instead, she brought his face back to hers and kissed him with everything she had. Her body arched beneath his, her hips lifting, searching for relief against the hardness pressing between them. He moved with her, grinding slowly, his control hanging by a thread.


    "God, Lydia..." he growled against her lips.


    Her hands grabbed at him, her nails lightly dragging over his skin. She couldn¡¯t take it anymore.


    "Ivan, please..."


    Then¡ªhe stopped.


    His hand froze. His body tensed. His lips pulled away from hers. For a second, he just stared down at her, his breathing harsh. Lydia blinked, confused, her body still aching.


    "What...?" she whispered, barely able to speak.


    Ivan sat up suddenly. His hands dropped to his sides, his jaw clenched. He didn¡¯t look at her.


    "I can¡¯t," he muttered.


    She pushed herself up on her elbows, staring at him. "Did I... do something wrong?"


    He didn¡¯t answer. He ran a hand through his hair, his back turned slightly to her now.


    "No," he said after a long pause. "It¡¯s not you..."


    Lydia sat there, her body still burning, heart racing. Her nightgown was half open, her skin flushed, lips swollen from their kisses. She didn¡¯t know what to say. Her chest rose and fell quickly.


    Ivan finally stood from the bed, pacing a bit like he couldn¡¯t breathe. Like he was at war with himself.


    Lydia stayed on the bed, her body aching, still craving his touch, his mouth, his everything.


    The silence between them was heavy. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Ivan glanced back at her once, eyes filled with something¡ªdesire, confusion, guilt¡ªbut he looked away quickly.


    She didn¡¯t understand.


    But she knew one thing¡ªhe wanted her.


    And she wanted him even more now.

 Chapter 30: Unnamed Emotions

    Chapter 30: Unnamed EmotionsStill, he said nothing. He didn¡¯t come back to her. His steps slowed near the door, his hand pausing on the handle. Lydia sat upright, the sheet clutched to her chest, heart pounding.


    "Ivan," she said, her voice soft, pleading.


    He didn¡¯t turn around.


    When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Hollow. "This was a mistake."


    Her breath hitched.


    Before she could say anything else, he opened the door and left. Quietly. As if none of it had happened. As if she hadn¡¯t moaned his name, hadn¡¯t held him like she never wanted to let go.


    The door clicked shut behind him.


    And the ache that filled her chest was worse than any touch he¡¯d denied her.


    Lydia sank back into the bed slowly. The sheet twisted in her hands. Her skin still tingled where he had kissed her. Her heart was still racing¡ªbut now, for a different reason.


    He left her.


    Again.


    Just like always.


    She turned to his side of the bed. The pillow was still warm. She buried her face into it, breathing in the faint trace of him.


    And then¡ªher tears came. Quiet at first, then harder.


    He had held her like she mattered. Kissed her like he couldn¡¯t stop. But it meant nothing to him.


    She knew it now.


    ---


    Later that morning, Lydia tried to compose herself. Her eyes were still red, her throat sore from crying. But she dressed simply¡ªno jewels, no heavy gown. Just a soft cream robe with a sash tied tightly around her waist.


    She needed to see him. Even if it hurt.


    The palace halls were quiet as she walked. A few servants passed her with lowered eyes. No one said a word. No one ever did.


    They all feared him. Everyone did.


    But she wasn¡¯t afraid of Ivan.


    She reached his chambers. The guards at the door looked uncertain, but one of them opened it for her after a pause.


    Inside, Ivan stood by the hearth. Already dressed in black. His coat perfectly fastened, gloves in his hand. A portrait of control.


    He looked at her once. No warmth. No trace of the man from last night.


    She stepped in slowly. "Ivan..."


    He didn¡¯t move. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "About last night¡ª" she began, but he cut her off without even turning.


    "I warned you on our wedding night," he said. His voice was sharp, cold. "This marriage means nothing. Do not mistake what happened for anything more than a moment of weakness."


    Lydia¡¯s mouth parted slightly, the sting immediate. Her hands clenched at her sides.


    "A moment of weakness?" she asked, barely able to get the words out. "You kissed me like you meant it. You touched me like¡ª"


    "I shouldn¡¯t have," he interrupted. "It won¡¯t happen again."


    He turned from the fire, slipping his gloves on with calm, practiced movements. He still wouldn¡¯t look at her.


    She stepped closer. "Please, don¡¯t do this."


    "You would do well not to hope, Lydia," he said, finally meeting her eyes¡ªand they were empty now. "You¡¯re the Grand Duchess in name only. Nothing has changed."


    Then he brushed past her like she wasn¡¯t even there.


    And left his own chambers.


    ---


    Lydia didn¡¯t move. She stood there, her heart breaking all over again. Then slowly, her legs carried her back to her chambers. She didn¡¯t remember walking. Just the sound of her own breath and the pounding in her chest.


    When the door shut behind her, she dropped to her knees. The robe slipped from her shoulder, but she didn¡¯t care. Her hands gripped the edge of the bed as the tears fell again.


    She had let herself believe. Just for one night.


    And now she would pay the price.


    Again.


    The afternoon sun crept slowly through the curtains, but Lydia didn¡¯t notice. She sat at her writing table, her back straight, her face pale. A single candle burned beside her even though it was still daylight.


    Her diary lay open before her.


    She didn¡¯t know why she reached for it. Maybe because there was no one else to talk to. Maybe because if she didn¡¯t write it down, the pain would eat her alive.


    She dipped the pen into ink. Her hand trembled.


    "He kissed me. It felt real. I thought... I thought maybe something changed. Maybe he was finally letting me in. I was wrong."


    The ink smudged where a tear hit the page.


    "He said it was a mistake. I wanted to scream. To beg. But I didn¡¯t. I just watched him walk away. I hate myself for wanting him still. I hate this heart that can¡¯t stop breaking."


    She stopped. Her breath was shaky. She pressed the pen harder, the nib scratching against the page.


    "What does he see when he looks at me? A burden? A duty? I thought maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªhe saw a wife. Someone worth staying for."


    Her hand stilled.


    But there was nothing else to say.


    She closed the diary and sat there in silence.


    ---


    By evening, she still hadn¡¯t eaten. Katherine came in with a tray of warm soup and bread, her eyes full of worry.


    "Your Highness, please. Just a few bites."


    Lydia sat curled on the chaise, her knees pulled to her chest, her head resting against the cushion. She didn¡¯t look up.


    "I¡¯m not hungry."


    Katherine tried again. "You¡¯ll get sick."


    "I don¡¯t care."


    Her voice was flat.


    Katherine set the tray down and walked over, kneeling beside her. "He left for the capital early this morning. I heard the guards say he¡¯s going to report about the rebels. He¡¯ll be back in a few days."


    Lydia didn¡¯t answer. Her eyes stared blankly at the wall.


    "I¡¯ll leave this here," Katherine whispered. "Just in case."


    But Lydia never touched the food.


    She cried again that night.


    Alone.


    Until sleep finally dragged her under.


    ---


    Far away, Ivan¡¯s horse galloped across the snowy path toward the capital. The wind bit at his skin, but he barely felt it. His mind was elsewhere.


    Her face.


    Her voice.


    The way she had looked at him that morning¡ªlike he had torn her apart.


    He tightened his grip on the reins.


    Damn it.


    He tried to push her from his mind. He told himself it was better this way. Cleaner. Safer. But every time he blinked, he saw her eyes. Red. Shiny. Crushed.


    He cursed under his breath.


    He shouldn¡¯t have touched her. Shouldn¡¯t have let his guard down.


    It was a mistake.


    But if it truly was a mistake... why did it hurt?


    The road turned, and up ahead, he saw a familiar building. The small inn where they had spent the night after leaving the capital. On their way to Svetlana. After the wedding.


    He slowed his horse.


    His chest tightened.


    He remembered it clearly. How she had sat near the window, too scared to lie next to him. He had been cold. Distant. Not a word of comfort.


    And still¡ªshe had said nothing.


    She just sat there all night, hugging her knees, watching the night sky through the window.


    She had fallen asleep like that.


    He had been the one who picked her up. Her body was freezing. He had laid her on the bed gently, covering her with the thick blanket. She hadn¡¯t stirred.


    That memory haunted him now.


    He turned his face away from the inn and spurred the horse forward.


    But he couldn¡¯t outrun the ache in his chest.


    He had done this to her.


    And he hated himself for it.


    ---


    The next morning, Ivan arrived at the palace and made his way straight to Czar Vladimir¡¯s throne room. His footsteps echoed in the vast hall as he entered, his posture straight, his face as unreadable as ever.


    "Report," Vladimir¡¯s voice boomed as he glanced up from a pile of scrolls.


    "Rebels at the border killed several soldiers. We need to tighten security immediately," Ivan said coldly, his voice devoid of any emotion.


    Vladimir nodded, considering the news. "And how is your injury? Has it healed?"


    Ivan¡¯s eyes flickered briefly. "It has healed," he replied without hesitation.


    The Czar gave a sigh of relief. "Good. Boris mentioned that the Grand Duchess was the one who treated you," he continued, his gaze softening slightly. "I was right to allow the two of you to marry. She¡¯s proving to be more than just a wife in name."


    Ivan stiffened, the words striking something deep inside him, but he said nothing. He remained silent, keeping his thoughts hidden behind a mask of indifference. The weight of his unspoken thoughts hung in the air for a moment, but he did not respond.


    After a pause, Vladimir continued with his orders, and Ivan turned to leave the throne room.


    ---


    On his way back, Ivan ran into Olga. She was standing by a pillar, arms crossed, her sharp eyes watching him closely.


    "You¡¯re here," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "But not with your bride." She paused, studying him for a moment before adding, "I heard it was her who treated your injury, despite your threats. Poor child, caring for a heartless devil like you. What exactly does she see in you?"


    Ivan ignored her, his expression unreadable as he continued to walk past her without a word. Olga¡¯s mocking voice followed him, but he didn¡¯t give her the satisfaction of a response.


    ---


    Back in Svetlana, Lydia woke up feeling feverish. The thick blanket that covered her felt heavy, and her body ached. Her mind was foggy, but she could tell something was wrong. She had eaten nothing the previous day, only crying herself to sleep. Her throat felt dry, and her head was pounding.


    She tried to sit up, but her limbs felt weak. She reached for the water beside her bed, but her hands trembled too much to grasp the cup. The pain in her chest seemed to multiply, and the thought of Ivan¡ªof the way he had left her the night before¡ªmade her feel worse.


    Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. She couldn¡¯t let herself break. Not like this.


    ---


    At the capital, Ivan was about to leave the palace grounds when Leonid suddenly appeared, running toward him with a wide grin on his face.


    "I made this for you!" Leonid called out, holding up a small bird whistle.


    Ivan¡¯s instinct was to push him away, but instead, he turned toward him and took the whistle. "I¡¯m taking it just so you stop disturbing me," Ivan said, his voice as cold as ever. "Now, go away. You know your mother doesn¡¯t want to see you near me."


    Leonid smiled even wider. "Of course, brother," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.


    As Ivan mounted his horse, Leonid called out to him again. "You know, you look better now than before... without your mask."


    Ivan froze for a moment. It took him a second to realize what Leonid meant. He wasn¡¯t wearing his mask anymore.


    A brief moment of hesitation flickered in Ivan¡¯s eyes before he continued riding, the weight of Leonid¡¯s words lingering in his mind.

 Chapter 31: That Foolish Girl

    Chapter 31: That Foolish GirlLydia was still burning up. Sweat clung to her skin, and her breath came in shallow pulls. Her body trembled as she tried to get up. Her feet touched the floor, and she gripped the bedpost, holding herself upright with all the strength she could summon. For a second, she stood.


    Then everything went black.


    Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious.


    ---


    Far away in the capital, Ivan was just leaving the palace after his tense meeting with the king. The sky had turned a pale gray, clouds hanging low with the promise of rain. On his ride back to Svetlana, his horse slowed as they passed the familiar road that led to the Andreyevna house.


    His eyes lingered on the gate.


    He didn¡¯t know why he stopped.


    He had no reason to.


    But something in him urged him to turn. He tugged the reins slightly and drew to a halt in front of the Andreyevna estate. For a moment, he said nothing. Just sat on his horse, unmoving, his gaze resting on the house like a man remembering something he couldn¡¯t quite grasp.


    ---


    Back in Svetlana, Katherine had returned to Lydia¡¯s chambers to check on her. As she opened the door, a cold jolt of fear coursed through her.


    "Your Highness?" she called softly.


    There was no reply.


    Then she saw her¡ªcrumpled on the floor.


    "Your Highness!"


    Katherine rushed to her side and knelt, placing a trembling hand on Lydia¡¯s forehead.


    Burning.


    She was burning.


    Katherine shouted for help, her voice echoing through the halls.


    ---


    In the capital once more, Ivan remained in front of the Andreyevna residence when a familiar voice caught his attention.


    "Your Highness?"


    It was Galina, returning from the market. Her arms full of parcels, she paused, blinking in surprise before dropping into a respectful curtsy.


    "Please, come inside," she said, opening the gate.


    The moment he stepped through, it was as though the temperature of the entire house shifted. The servants avoided his gaze. A silence fell over the place, thick with discomfort and fear.


    Galina led him to Alexander¡¯s study and excused herself.


    Alexander rose as he entered, his face unreadable.


    "Your Highness," he greeted stiffly with a slight bow. "What brings you here?"


    "Nothing in particular. I had business at the palace and found myself in the area."


    Alexander nodded, then straightened, voice laced with tension. "I appreciate the thought. But your presence is unnecessary. Kindly leave."


    Ivan raised a brow. "Excuse me, my lord. You do remember I am the Grand Duke of this kingdom¡ªnot just your in-law."


    Alexander¡¯s lips twitched. "Yes, I respect your title. But as for in-law¡ªI don¡¯t consider you one."


    Ivan frowned. "What do you mean?"


    "Lydia ceased being an Andreyevna the moment she accepted that ridiculous marriage. She lost the right to bear our name."


    Alexander stood, collecting papers from his desk. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but I must be going. I trust you can see yourself out. There is no law that says I must welcome a royal into my house against my will."


    His words were sharp¡ªbut his hand trembled slightly. He was scared. He masked it behind indifference, but Ivan saw the strain in his eyes.


    He left the study without waiting for a response.


    Ivan remained in the room for a moment, then stepped out into the hallway. A small voice called out.


    "Are you Lydia¡¯s husband? The Grand Duke?"


    Ivan turned.


    It was Pyotr.


    He nodded.


    "Where is she?" the boy asked.


    "In Svetlana," Ivan replied simply.


    Pyotr sighed in disappointment. "Do you want to see her room?"


    ---


    Back in Svetlana, Lydia lay on the bed once more, her body still and breath quiet. The physician had just finished checking her.


    "She¡¯s stable now," he said, straightening his coat. "Just exhausted. Malnourished. Weak from stress. She needs rest. She¡¯ll be alright."


    Katherine exhaled deeply and gently stroked Lydia¡¯s hair.


    ---


    At the Andreyevna house, Pyotr led Ivan to Lydia¡¯s bedroom.


    He opened the door carefully.


    It was exactly as she left it.


    Warm.


    Simple.


    Soft pastels, lace curtains, a stack of old novels near the window seat. Ivan stepped inside and looked around.


    He murmured to himself, "It¡¯s just like her. Warm."


    Then a sharp voice cut through.


    "Pyotr. What are you doing here?"


    It was Elena.


    She froze when she saw Ivan. Her face flushed, and she immediately bowed.


    "Your Highness."


    Pyotr, now nervous, dashed to Ivan and hugged him from behind.


    "Sister, don¡¯t yell at me. Please."


    Elena¡¯s face softened. "I won¡¯t yell. You can let His Highness go."


    Pyotr stepped back sheepishly. "I just wanted to show him Lydia¡¯s room."


    Elena nodded. "I understand. But your French tutor is waiting."


    Pyotr groaned, but turned to Ivan. "I¡¯ll come visit you soon!"


    He ran off.


    Elena turned back to Ivan. "Forgive him, Your Highness. He can be a bit too much."


    "It¡¯s alright. I don¡¯t find him annoying."


    There was a pause.


    Then Elena asked, voice softer, "How is Lydia?"


    Ivan looked down. "She¡¯s alright."


    "I¡¯ve wanted to visit her. Or write. But Father won¡¯t allow it."


    Ivan tilted his head. "Because she married me?"


    Elena hesitated. "Not exactly. Because she refused the marriage Father arranged for her. And chose you instead..."


    ...


    Silence settled between them.


    Ivan turned to leave.


    Just as he reached the door, Pyotr came running again, a wooden box in his arms.


    "Wait!" he called.


    Elena followed close behind.


    "We packed it for Lydia," she said. "A few things from her room. Just to give her a piece of home."


    Ivan took it gently.


    "Thank you."


    He left the house without another word.


    Elena watched him go. Galina stepped beside her.


    "He feels like a different person now," she whispered.


    Elena nodded. "He does."


    ---


    The sun was slowly setting.


    Ivan had been on the road for hours. The box rested behind him on the horse. His thoughts spun like a wheel refusing to stop.


    He muttered under his breath, "That foolish girl."


    His grip tightened on the reins. "What a foolish girl."


    ---


    In Svetlana, the fever had broken. Lydia slowly opened her eyes. Her lashes fluttered as she adjusted to the dim candlelight.


    She was back in her chambers.


    Katherine sat beside her, placing a damp cloth on her forehead.


    "You¡¯re awake," she whispered, relieved. "Thank the heavens."


    Lydia blinked. Her throat was dry.


    Katherine gently brushed her hair. "I warned you, Your Highness. I warned you not to get close to him. Not to fall for him. But you wouldn¡¯t listen."


    Lydia turned her head slightly.


    "It¡¯s too late," she murmured. "I already love him."


    Her voice cracked. "And I don¡¯t know how to stop. I don¡¯t want to stop."


    Katherine¡¯s heart broke.


    She leaned forward and held her, gently cradling her like a child. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Poor thing. Don¡¯t worry. Everything will be alright."


    Lydia sobbed quietly in her arms.


    No matter how hard she tried, she couldn¡¯t get Ivan out of her mind.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Night had fallen, and Ivan found himself in the middle of nowhere. The air was cold and quiet, the kind of silence that made his thoughts louder. He had made a small camp and lit a fire. The flames crackled softly, casting shadows around him. But even with the warmth of the fire, he felt cold inside.


    He sat still, staring into the flames, his mind far from where he was. He kept thinking about the conversation he had with Elena earlier. Her words wouldn¡¯t leave him alone.


    Back to that moment¡ªthe part that struck him the most....


    He remembered asking her, "What do you mean by an arranged marriage? I don¡¯t understand."


    Elena had looked away, her voice low. "She was supposed to marry a count. Someone four times her age. She didn¡¯t want to, but she wasn¡¯t given a choice. And then... she ended up with you."


    Ivan had frowned, confused. "Why do you say she didn¡¯t have a choice?"


    "She told me," Elena said. "Lydia never wanted to get married at all. She wanted to live free. Travel the world. Go wherever she wanted without anyone stopping her."


    Ivan¡¯s heart sank as he listened.


    Elena had continued, "When she heard about her marriage to the count, she tried to run away. She packed her things and left in the middle of the night. But she didn¡¯t get far. She was caught."


    Then came the words that haunted him the most.


    "She told me... if only she didn¡¯t run into that injured man, she would¡¯ve escaped."


    Ivan¡¯s chest tightened. "What do you mean?"


    "She saw a man on the road. Bleeding. Hurt badly. She couldn¡¯t leave him. So she helped him. That delay cost her everything. She was found and taken back home. After that, she didn¡¯t try to run again."


    Ivan didn¡¯t need to ask who the man was. He already knew.


    Elena had said it plainly. "She had to marry you. Not for love. But because she thought maybe it was the only way to get away from our father. But even now, she¡¯s not free. She¡¯s still suffering."


    Now Ivan lay on the cold grass, looking up at the stars. His heart was heavy.


    It was his fault.


    If she hadn¡¯t helped him, maybe she would¡¯ve been happy. Maybe she would be far away, living the life she dreamed of. Free.


    But because of him, she was trapped.

 Chapter 32: Deadly Bargain

    Chapter 32: Deadly BargainOlga sat on the edge of her bed, tired but with eyes wide open. Candles made long shadows across her fancy room. When she sighed, two servants appeared right away.


    "Your bath is ready, Your Majesty," one said quietly, looking at the floor.


    The servants walked her across the soft carpet to a big white tub filled with hot water. Rose petals floated on top, making the room smell sweet. They helped her take off her clothes and get into the bath.


    "Is the water okay for you, Your Majesty?" asked the younger servant, fixing a towel nervously.


    "It¡¯s fine," Olga said, touching the rose petals with her fingers.


    They washed her without talking. Olga stared ahead, thinking about other things. When they finished, they dried her with soft towels and helped her put on a light blue nightdress that made her pale skin look bright. They brushed her long black hair until it shined like black glass, letting it hang loose around her shoulders.


    Even without jewelry or makeup, Olga was very beautiful¡ªhigh cheekbones, perfect lips, and eyes that showed both strength and sadness. She moved to her mirror and sat, looking at herself without really seeing.


    One servant stopped by the oil lamp that lit the room with warm light. "Should I turn off the lamp, Your Majesty? To help you sleep?"


    Olga looked up quickly, meeting the servant¡¯s eyes in the mirror. "No," she said firmly, shaking her head a little.


    The servants looked at each other quickly.


    "Do you need anything else, Your Majesty?" the older one asked.


    "No. You can go."


    They bowed low. "Good night, Your Majesty."


    The heavy door closed behind them with a soft sound, leaving Olga alone with the flickering lamp and her thoughts.


    ---


    "Poor Her Majesty," whispered one servant to the other as they walked through the dark palace halls, stepping quietly on the marble floor.


    "Every night, she waits for him," said the second, shaking her head. "She sits up with the lamp on, hoping His Majesty will come to her room."


    "But he never comes." The first servant¡¯s voice got even quieter. "Not once in all these years, and still she waits. Like a statue, just sitting there."


    "I feel bad for her. To be a queen and still so..." she stopped, trying to find the right word.


    "Lonely," said the first. "So very lonely."


    They got quiet as they passed a guard, then hurried to their rooms, leaving their pity hanging in the air behind them.


    ---


    Back in her room, Olga sat still on the edge of her bed. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her back straight as a stick. Only her eyes showed her feelings¡ªwet with tears she wouldn¡¯t let fall.


    The lamp burned steadily, shining on the empty side of the bed. Hours went by. The palace got quiet as night grew deeper. Still she waited, knowing in her heart that Vladimir would not come, but unable to accept that fact.


    "Come to me," she whispered to the empty room. "Just once."


    But he never came.


    ---


    The next morning was bright and clear, with sunlight streaming across the countryside as Ivan continued his trip back to Svetlana. The wooden box he carried seemed to get heavier with each mile, though its weight hadn¡¯t changed.


    ---


    In Svetlana, Lydia¡¯s health had gotten worse. She moved restlessly in her bed, her nightdress sticking to her sweaty skin. Her cheeks were red with fever, but she shivered under the blankets. Her breathing was shallow, her lips dry and cracked.


    Katherine came into the room, looking worried as she carried fresh water and towels. She put her hand on Lydia¡¯s forehead and frowned.


    "The fever¡¯s still going up," she said quietly to herself.


    Katherine squeezed water from a cloth and put it on Lydia¡¯s forehead. She helped her sit up, supporting her weight.


    "Please, Your Highness, just a few bites," she begged, offering a bowl of thin porridge.


    Lydia weakly turned her head away. "Can¡¯t," she whispered.


    "You must try," Katherine said gently. "For your strength."


    She got Lydia to swallow a few spoonfuls of porridge and some bitter medicine the doctor had left, but Lydia didn¡¯t get better. Her eyes stayed glassy and unfocused, her skin hot to touch.


    ---


    By noon, the sun was high in the sky as Ivan finally arrived at Svetlana. The moment he rode through the gates, a clear change swept through the palace grounds. Servants who had been doing their work suddenly found urgent things to do elsewhere. Guards stood straight and stiff, eyes forward, barely breathing.


    Ivan gave his horse¡¯s reins to a guard without a word and walked into the palace, holding the wooden box in his hands. His boots made loud sounds on the marble floors as he headed straight for his room.


    Somehow, without planning to, he found himself standing in front of Lydia¡¯s door instead. He frowned, annoyed at his own weakness.


    "Why am I here again?" he muttered to himself, glaring at the door as if it had done something wrong. "Silly."


    He was still deciding whether to go in or continue to his own room when the door opened, and Katherine came out carrying a basin of water and used towels. The moment she saw Ivan, her eyes got big with shock, then quickly dropped to the floor as fear took over her face.


    Ivan¡¯s face showed several feelings quickly one after another¡ªanger, hate, and something else, something hard to name that softened his harsh features for just a moment before going away.


    Katherine immediately dropped into a deep bow. "Your Highness," she said, her voice very quiet.


    "Is the Grand Duchess inside?" he asked, his words short and sharp.


    "Yes, Your Highness." Katherine kept her eyes down. "Her Highness is sleeping. She¡¯s... she¡¯s been sick."


    Ivan¡¯s forehead wrinkled. "What?"


    "If you¡¯ll excuse me, Your Highness," Katherine said quickly, clearly wanting to get away from him. She slipped past him with another bow and hurried down the hall.


    Ivan waited just a moment before pushing the door open and going inside.


    The room was dim, with curtains pulled against the midday sun. Lydia lay in the middle of the big bed, looking small and weak among the pillows and blankets. Her face was pale except for two bright spots of color high on her cheeks, her blonde hair spread out around her like a light halo.


    Ivan walked to her bedside, putting the wooden box on the nearby table. Almost against his will, he reached out and gently stroked her hair, his rough fingers surprisingly gentle against the silky strands.


    Lydia moved slightly at his touch, making a small sound in her throat. Ivan quickly pulled his hand back and turned to leave, but stopped when he felt thin fingers wrap around his wrist.


    "Please don¡¯t go," Lydia mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and fever. "Don¡¯t leave me." Her eyes stayed closed, her face troubled even in sleep.


    Ivan turned back to look at her. She looked very vulnerable, her usual brightness dimmed by sickness. He wanted to pull away, to keep the distance he¡¯d so carefully built between them, but her grip tightened on his wrist.


    The door opened again as Katherine came back, carrying a fresh bowl of water and clean towels. She looked surprised to find Ivan still there.


    "What happened to her?" he asked in a flat voice, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Lydia.


    Katherine kept her eyes down. "The doctor says it¡¯s because of not enough rest and food, Your Highness."


    Ivan¡¯s eyebrows went up slightly. "Not enough food?"


    Katherine glanced up briefly, then back down. "To be honest, Your Highness, she hasn¡¯t been eating right since she came to the palace." She paused, then added, "She said she found the dining hall too lonely and stifling. It made her lose her hunger."


    Katherine took a deep breath before going on. "It¡¯s gotten worse since you left for the capital. She hasn¡¯t been eating at all, and she barely sleeps. All she does is cry."


    Ivan said nothing, his face giving away nothing. He couldn¡¯t leave now even if he wanted to¡ªLydia¡¯s fingers were still wrapped around his wrist, surprisingly strong despite her weak state. And deep down, part of him didn¡¯t want to leave her side.


    Katherine moved to soak a towel in the cold water, getting ready to cool Lydia¡¯s fever, but Ivan stopped her with a hand motion.


    "Leave," he ordered. "I will take care of her myself."


    Katherine¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly hid it. "As you wish, Your Highness." She bowed and quietly left the room.


    Ivan sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. He dipped the cloth in the cold water, squeezed it out, and placed it gently on Lydia¡¯s forehead. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, but she didn¡¯t wake up.


    ---


    In her fever dream, Lydia walked along a sunny beach with her parents, one on each side, their hands warm and solid in hers. The sound of waves touching the shore filled her with peace, and she smiled up at her mother, then her father.


    "I¡¯ve missed you both so much," she said, her heart full.


    But as she spoke, their hands began to crumble in hers, turning to dust that blew away in the sea breeze. She grabbed at them frantically, but they disappeared before her eyes, leaving her alone on the empty beach.


    "Mother! Father!" she cried out, tears running down her face. "Please don¡¯t leave me alone again! I¡¯m scared... I¡¯m so scared..."


    ---


    In the real world, Lydia¡¯s face twisted with distress, tears leaking from under her closed eyelids as she mumbled the same pleas. "Don¡¯t leave me... please... I¡¯m scared..."


    Ivan watched her, his own face troubled. He reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. Guilt washed over him in a sudden wave.


    "You¡¯ll only suffer more because of me," he whispered, his voice barely audible.


    ---


    Night had fallen over the capital. In her room, Olga once again sat on her bed after her evening bath, dressed in her nightgown, her hair brushed and arranged. She sat perfectly still, her hands in her lap, waiting for the sound of Vladimir¡¯s footsteps in the hallway outside.


    Through the door, she could hear the whispers of passing servants, their pitying tones carrying clearly to her ears. Each word was like a knife stuck between her ribs.


    "Still waiting..."


    "...never comes..."


    "...poor woman..." S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Olga¡¯s fingers tightened on the bedsheets, knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. Tears filled her eyes, then spilled over, making silent paths down her cheeks. Something inside her¡ªsomething that had bent and bent for years¡ªfinally broke.


    She stood up quickly, wiping the tears from her face with angry motions. Enough was enough. If Vladimir wouldn¡¯t come to her, she would go to him.


    She stormed out of her room, ignoring the startled looks of the guards, and marched down the hall toward the Czar¡¯s rooms. Her bare feet made no sound on the soft carpets, but her presence seemed to fill the hallway with crackling energy.


    Vladimir was sitting at his desk, reading by the light of several candles when his door flew open. He looked up, surprise quickly changing to cold displeasure as Olga swept in.


    "You should leave," he said, his voice as cold as a winter wind.


    "Why?" Olga demanded, approaching his desk with her hands clenched at her sides. "Why won¡¯t you share a bed with me? Even after all these years, you¡¯re still thinking of her, aren¡¯t you? No matter what, I am still your wife!"


    Vladimir rose slowly from his chair, his eyes hard. "You¡¯re getting greedy, Olga. You seem to have forgotten our arrangement. Our marriage is just a formality, nothing more." His lip curled slightly. "And we have shared a bed."


    "That was years ago!" Olga cried, her voice rising with her anger and pain. "Years!"


    "That was our agreement," Vladimir replied coldly. "I have kept my promise. I expect you to keep your end of the bargain."


    Olga¡¯s eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"


    Vladimir stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I know you were behind the attempt to kill the Grand Duke." His eyes bored into hers. "This is my final warning, Olga. If you try anything like that again, I won¡¯t spare you. Not even for the sake of appearances."


    Olga took a step back, her face pale in the candlelight.

 Chapter 33: Strange Emotions

    Chapter 33: Strange EmotionsOlga banged the door of her chambers as she entered. Her hands were shaking with rage. She screamed at the top of her lungs, the sound bouncing off the walls of her large, lavish room.


    "How dare he?" she shouted to no one. "How dare he treat me this way!"


    She grabbed the first thing her fingers touched¡ªa beautiful glass vase filled with fresh flowers. Without a second thought, she hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. Water splashed everywhere, and flowers scattered across the floor.


    But breaking one thing wasn¡¯t enough. Olga was like a storm moving through her chambers. She swept her arm across a table, sending expensive ornaments crashing to the ground. Each crash made her feel a little better, but the anger inside her was still burning hot.


    "After everything I¡¯ve done," she hissed, pacing back and forth. "After all my years of devotion!"


    Tears streamed down her face, but these weren¡¯t tears of sadness. These were tears of pure anger and hurt pride. Her carefully applied makeup was now running down her cheeks in black streaks, but she didn¡¯t care.


    A servant knocked timidly on the door. "Your Highness? Is everything all right?"


    "Leave me alone!" Olga screamed, throwing a hairbrush at the door. The servant¡¯s footsteps quickly retreated.


    Olga stopped in front of her large mirror and stared at her reflection. Her face was red and puffy, her hair a mess from where she had been pulling at it.


    "He can¡¯t do this to me," she whispered to her reflection, her voice becoming dangerously calm. "He can¡¯t treat me like this. I won¡¯t allow it."


    She wiped the tears from her face, smearing her makeup even more. A cold smile spread across her lips as a plan began to form in her mind.


    "Don¡¯t worry," she said to herself, touching the mirror gently. "You¡¯ll see. I¡¯ll make sure you and your precious son cry tears of blood. Very soon."


    She turned away from the mirror and walked to her writing desk. With steady hands, she pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. The time for crying was over. Now was the time for action.


    At Svetlana


    Lydia was still sleeping in her bed. Her chest rose and fell gently with each breath. The fever that had gripped her the night before had finally started to ease.


    Ivan sat beside her bed, his large frame looking out of place in the delicate chair. He had been there all night, refusing to leave even when the servants brought him food. His hand held Lydia¡¯s smaller one, his thumb occasionally stroking her skin.


    The room was quiet except for the soft crackling of the fire in the fireplace. Outside, the first light of dawn was beginning to break through the darkness.


    Lydia stirred in her sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open slowly, her vision blurry from sleep and the remains of her fever. She blinked several times, trying to focus on the figure beside her bed.


    "Ivan?" she called, her voice weak and scratchy.


    Ivan immediately sat up straighter, fully awake despite his lack of sleep. "Yes, I¡¯m here," he said, his voice unusually gentle.


    "Is that really you?" Lydia asked, still not trusting her eyes. Her head felt heavy, and she wasn¡¯t sure if she was dreaming.


    He nodded, his face partly hidden in the shadows of the early morning. "Yes, it¡¯s me."


    Lydia¡¯s lip trembled slightly. "I¡¯m scared," she whispered. "Please, can you... can you hold me?"


    Ivan hesitated for just a moment. Then, without a word, he moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. He carefully gathered Lydia in his arms, pulling her against his chest. She felt so small and fragile.


    "It¡¯s all right," he murmured, one hand stroking her hair. "You¡¯re going to be fine."


    Lydia relaxed against him, feeling safe for the first time in days. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart were comforting. Her eyes grew heavy again, and she struggled to keep them open.


    "Don¡¯t leave," she whispered, but she wasn¡¯t sure if she said the words out loud or just thought them.


    Everything went blurry, and she fell back into a deep sleep, still wrapped in Ivan¡¯s arms.


    Early the next morning, Ivan woke up with a start. He had fallen asleep sitting up, still holding Lydia. She had turned in her sleep and was now curled up against him, one of her hands clutching his shirt.


    He carefully checked her forehead. Her temperature was normal now¡ªthe fever had broken during the night. Relief washed over him, though he tried to push the feeling away.


    Gently, he disentangled himself from Lydia, moving her hand from his shirt. She stirred a little at the movement but didn¡¯t wake up. Ivan stood up, his body stiff from spending the night in such an uncomfortable position.


    He walked quietly to the door, looking back once at Lydia¡¯s sleeping form. Her face was peaceful now, her breathing steady. Something twisted in his chest at the sight, but he ignored it.


    Just as he opened the door to leave, he came face to face with Katherine. She looked surprised to see him still there.


    "Your Highness," she said, quickly dropping into a curtsy.


    "There¡¯s no need to check on her," Ivan said in a low voice. "Her temperature is normal, and she¡¯s sleeping peacefully."


    Katherine nodded, her eyes curious but her face carefully neutral.


    "One more thing," Ivan added, his voice firm. "If she wakes up and asks, I was never here. The wooden box on the table was sent by her family. Do you understand?"


    "Yes, Your Highness," Katherine replied without hesitation. "I understand completely."


    Ivan gave her a sharp nod and then walked away, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway.


    Ivan strode through the palace, his face set in a deep frown. Servants who saw him coming quickly moved out of his way, bowing as he passed.


    When he reached his chambers, he barked an order at the waiting servants. "Prepare a bath for me. Now."


    The servants jumped into action, though fear was evident in their eyes. They had all heard about his temper, especially lately.


    While he waited, Ivan sank into a large chair by the window. His mind kept returning to the previous night. The image of Lydia lying sick in her bed, her face flushed with fever, kept appearing before his eyes.


    "Why do I even care?" he muttered to himself, rubbing his face with his hands. "Why did seeing her sick feel like a knife in my chest?"


    And then there was the way he had held her when she asked. He hadn¡¯t even thought about it¡ªhe had simply done it, pulled her into his arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world.


    "What is happening to me?" he wondered, staring out the window at the gardens below without really seeing them.


    A servant approached cautiously. "Your bath is ready, Your Highness."


    Ivan nodded and stood up. Perhaps the hot water would clear his head and wash away these confusing feelings.


    In her chambers, Lydia finally woke up properly. The sun was streaming through the windows, filling the room with warm light. She blinked and looked around, realizing she was alone.


    But something felt odd. She had a strange feeling that someone had been there with her. She remembered warmth, and safety, and someone¡¯s arms around her.


    The door opened, and Katherine walked in, carrying a tray with tea.


    "You¡¯re awake, Your Highness," she said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"


    "Better," Lydia replied, sitting up in bed. Her voice was still a bit weak, but the terrible exhaustion of the previous day was gone. "Katherine, did... did Ivan come to my room last night?"


    Katherine¡¯s face revealed nothing as she set down the tray. "No, Your Highness. The Grand Duke has been busy with his duties. You¡¯ve been alone except for me and the physician."


    "Oh," Lydia said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice. "I thought... I must have dreamed it then."


    "You had a high fever," Katherine reminded her gently. "Dreams can seem very real when you¡¯re sick."


    Lydia nodded, looking down at her hands. "Of course. It was silly of me to think..." She left the sentence unfinished. "Of course it wasn¡¯t real. Why would he come to see me anyway?"


    Katherine watched her mistress¡¯s face fall and quickly moved to cheer her up. "I have some good news that might lift your spirits. There are new books being added to the library today. Perhaps you could visit once you¡¯re feeling stronger?"


    Lydia¡¯s face brightened slightly at the mention of books. Then Katherine walked over to the table and picked up a wooden box.


    "This arrived for you yesterday," she said, bringing it to Lydia. "It¡¯s from your family. They sent it to cheer you up."


    Lydia¡¯s eyes widened, and she practically jumped out of bed to take the box. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it.


    Inside were letters from her cousins¡ªPyotr, Mikhail, Anya, and Elena. There were also small gifts: a tin of Anya¡¯s favorite tea, a small wooden carving from Mikhail, a beautiful hair ribbon from Elena, and a little book of poetry from Pyotr. Small things, but each chosen with love.


    Lydia held the letters to her chest, tears of happiness filling her eyes. "They haven¡¯t forgotten me," she whispered.


    "Of course they haven¡¯t," Katherine said kindly. "Now, let¡¯s get you ready for the day. You need to eat something to get your strength back."


    She called in Lydia¡¯s maids, who helped their mistress into a warm bath. The hot water helped wash away the last traces of her illness. Afterward, they dressed her in a simple but elegant blue dress and styled her hair, weaving Lydia¡¯s ribbon into the braids.


    Breakfast was brought to her room¡ªhot porridge with honey, bread, and tea. Katherine sat with her, making sure she ate everything.


    "The physician was very clear," Katherine said firmly. "You must eat properly and get enough rest. No more skipping meals or staying up all night reading."


    Lydia nodded, eating obediently. "I¡¯ll try," she promised.


    After finishing her meal, Lydia felt strong enough to visit the library. She loved being surrounded by books; they had always been her comfort and escape. And now, knowing there were new ones to discover, she couldn¡¯t wait any longer..


    Lydia walked slowly to the library, still feeling a bit weak from her illness. When she pushed open the heavy wooden door, she was surprised to see Ivan already inside. He was sitting in one of the armchairs near the window, a book open in his hands.


    "Ivan¡ªI mean, Your Highness!" she exclaimed, caught off guard. "You¡¯re back."


    Ivan didn¡¯t reply or even look up from his book. His face was as cold and distant as ever, showing no sign that he had sat by her bedside all night.


    Lydia stood awkwardly by the door, unsure whether to stay or go. She didn¡¯t want to disturb him, especially when he was clearly ignoring her.


    "I¡¯m sorry," she said quietly. "I¡¯ll come back later."


    She turned to leave, her heart heavy in her chest.


    "No need," Ivan¡¯s voice stopped her. "I was just finishing. You can stay."


    He closed his book and stood up, walking past her toward the door. He was so close that she could smell his familiar scent¡ªclean and slightly spicy. It made her heart beat faster.


    Just as he was about to leave, Lydia gathered her courage and spoke again.


    "I¡¯m sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For what I did the other day. For throwing myself at you. It won¡¯t happen again."


    Ivan stopped but didn¡¯t turn around. Lydia waited, hoping for some response, some acknowledgment. Her eyes filled with tears, making the library blur around her.


    Finally, Ivan turned slightly. He saw her glassy eyes, the tears threatening to spill over. Something in his expression changed for just a moment¡ªa flicker of emotion breaking through his cold mask. But it was gone so quickly that Lydia couldn¡¯t be sure she had seen it at all.


    Instead of speaking, Ivan simply gritted his teeth and turned away again. Without another word, he walked out of the library, the door closing firmly behind him. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Lydia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and moved to sit in the chair Ivan had just vacated. It was still warm from his body.


    "I have to let him go," she told herself, staring out the window at the palace gardens. "He will never love me. He will never care for me."


    But even as she thought the words, she wondered if it was possible. How could she stop her heart from wanting what it wanted? Still, she had to try. She couldn¡¯t keep hurting herself by hoping for something that would never happen.


    With a sigh, Lydia reached for one of the new books on the table. Perhaps in its pages, she could find a few hours of escape from her troubled heart.

 Chapter 34: Dining With The Devil

    Chapter 34: Dining With The DevilIt was sunset. The golden rays of the dying sun filtered through the large windows of the palace, painting everything in warm hues of amber and gold. In his study, Ivan sat hunched over his desk, surrounded by stacks of reports about the deployment of soldiers along the border between Zolotaria and Venograd. His eyes moved across the pages, but his mind refused to focus on the words before him.


    "Thirty regiments stationed at the northern pass... increased patrols along the river..." Ivan mumbled, trying to concentrate, but it was useless. His thoughts kept drifting back to the library and Lydia.


    He couldn¡¯t forget the way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears when she apologized. The usual spark in those beautiful eyes had dimmed, replaced by a sadness that tugged at his heart in ways he didn¡¯t understand¡ªor perhaps didn¡¯t want to acknowledge.


    "Why am I thinking about her?" he whispered to himself, running a hand through his dark hair. "She¡¯s just a duty, a political necessity."


    But even as he said the words, he knew they weren¡¯t entirely true. Something had changed between them. What had started as mere obligation was growing into something he couldn¡¯t quite name.


    He pushed the reports away with a frustrated sigh. There was no point trying to work when his mind was elsewhere.


    ---


    Meanwhile, in the grand library, Lydia sat in a plush armchair, a heavy book open on her lap. The pages remained unturned for nearly an hour. Like Ivan, her mind was far away from her task. Her thoughts kept replaying their argument, her hasty words, the hurt in his eyes that he had tried so hard to mask.


    "Why does he have to be so... so..." she couldn¡¯t even find the right word. Difficult? Complicated? Intriguing?


    Lydia traced the patterns on the book¡¯s page absentmindedly. She had come to this marriage expecting a cold, political arrangement. She hadn¡¯t expected to care what her husband thought of her. She hadn¡¯t expected to feel this hollow ache when they argued.


    A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts.


    "Come in," she called softly.


    The door creaked open, and a young maid with rosy cheeks peeked in. "Your Highness," she said with a curtsy, "dinner has been set. Please come to the dining hall when you¡¯re ready."


    Lydia offered a small smile. "Thank you, Anna. I¡¯ll be there in just a minute."


    "Very good, Your Highness." The maid gave another curtsy before closing the door quietly behind her.


    Lydia looked down at the book in her lap. She hadn¡¯t read a single word. With a deep sigh, she closed it and placed it on the small table beside her chair. Her stomach felt knotted, and the thought of sitting alone at that long dining table again made the knot tighten. But she knew she had to maintain appearances.


    "Another lonely dinner," she murmured, standing up and smoothing down her dress. "Just like every night."


    ---


    Back in his study, Ivan finally admitted defeat. He couldn¡¯t concentrate on the reports any longer. Standing up, he stretched his stiff muscles and decided to retire to his room for the night. His body felt heavy with exhaustion, both physical and emotional.


    As he walked down the long corridor, its walls adorned with portraits of stern-faced ancestors, he heard hurried footsteps approaching. Turning a corner, he nearly collided with a young servant girl carrying a tray laden with covered dishes.


    The girl gasped, taking a step back, her eyes wide with fear. "Y-Your Highness!" she stammered, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to steady the tray. "I-I brought your meal to you. I thought you would still be in your study, so I came here. I¡¯m so sorry! I¡¯ll take it to your room right away!"


    Ivan looked at the girl, noting how she couldn¡¯t quite meet his eyes. Was he truly so intimidating? He simply nodded at her, not wanting to frighten her further.


    Then, an unexpected thought occurred to him. "What about the Grand Duchess?" he asked. "Has she eaten?"


    The maid looked surprised by his question. "Not yet, Your Highness, but her meal is set at the dining hall. She should be there soon."


    Ivan remembered what Katherine, Lydia¡¯s lady-in-waiting, had mentioned earlier that day. Lydia had been eating very little lately, claiming she had no appetite. Katherine had hinted that the Grand Duchess felt lonely sitting at the vast dining table by herself night after night.


    The realization struck him with unexpected force. Had he been neglecting his wife? True, theirs was a political marriage, but she was still his wife, living in a strange land far from everything familiar.


    "You need not worry about setting the food in my room," he told the maid firmly.


    Confusion flitted across her face, but she nodded obediently. "As you wish, Your Highness."


    As the maid hurried away, Ivan changed direction, heading toward the dining hall instead of his chambers. He wasn¡¯t sure what compelled him to go there¡ªcuriosity perhaps, or maybe something deeper that he wasn¡¯t ready to examine too closely.


    ---


    Lydia had just reached the dining hall. She paused at the doorway, taking in the sight before her. The long table, polished to a gleaming shine, was set with numerous dishes at one end. Pork soup, freshly baked bread, beef stew, roasted vegetables, and various desserts¡ªenough food to feed several people, yet she would dine alone as usual.


    With a quiet sigh, she moved to her usual place at the far end of the table and sat down. Everything looked delicious, the aromas tantalizing, but her appetite had abandoned her.


    "Another meal alone," she whispered to herself. The vastness of the room seemed to magnify her solitude. Back home, meals had been lively affairs, with her parents and siblings talking and laughing. Here, the only sounds were the clock ticking on the wall and the occasional clink of her silverware against the fine china.


    The door opened suddenly, and Katherine stepped in. The lady-in-waiting approached with a concerned look on her face.


    "Is the food to your liking, Your Highness?" she asked gently. "Or is there anything else you¡¯d prefer? Would you like me to keep you company while you eat?"


    Lydia shook her head. "No, thank you, Katherine. The food is fine. I¡¯d like to be alone tonight."


    Katherine hesitated for a moment before nodding. "As you wish, Your Highness. Please ring if you need anything."


    "I will. Thank you."


    Once Katherine had left, Lydia picked up her spoon, stared at the soup for a moment, then set the spoon back down with a heavy sigh. The thought of eating made her stomach turn.


    Just as she was contemplating leaving the table entirely, the door opened again. Lydia turned, a gentle rebuke on her lips.


    "But I asked to be¡ª" The words died in her throat as she saw who had entered.


    It was Ivan. Her husband. The man she had been avoiding all day.


    He said nothing as he walked straight to the table, his steps measured and purposeful. His face gave away nothing of his thoughts, his expression as unreadable as ever. He stopped near her and looked down at her with those piercing blue eyes.


    "You¡¯re in my seat," he said simply.


    Lydia blinked in confusion. She had been sitting in the same place for weeks, and he had never joined her for dinner before.


    "I¡ªI¡¯m sorry," she stammered, feeling her cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I didn¡¯t know."


    She started to rise, intending to move to the other end of the table, but his hand shot out and caught her wrist. His touch was warm and firm, but not painful. It sent a strange fluttering sensation through her chest.


    "Just sit in the chair beside me," he said, his voice softer now. "All the food is arranged here, and the servants have already left. No one will help you move everything."


    Wordlessly, Lydia nodded and sank into the chair next to her usual place. Ivan took the seat she had vacated.


    For several minutes, they ate in silence. Lydia tried to focus on her food, but her mind was racing with questions. Why had he come? What did it mean? Was he still angry about their argument in the library? S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Though Ivan didn¡¯t look directly at her, she noticed how he instinctively moved dishes closer to her reach, ensuring she had easy access to everything. It was a small gesture, but it touched her unexpectedly.


    "The soup is good tonight," he said eventually, breaking the silence.


    "Yes, it is," she agreed, though she had barely tasted it.


    Another silence fell between them, but it felt less tense than before. Lydia found herself stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn¡¯t looking. She hadn¡¯t been this close to him in quite some time, and she had almost forgotten the strong line of his jaw, the way his dark brows furrowed slightly when he was deep in thought.


    Lost in her observations, she reached for her water glass without looking and accidentally knocked it over. Water splashed across the table, some of it landing on Ivan¡¯s sleeve.


    "Oh! I¡¯m so sorry!" she exclaimed, mortified by her clumsiness.


    "It¡¯s okay," he said, surprisingly calm. "It¡¯s just water."


    He rolled up his sleeves to prevent the damp fabric from touching his skin, and Lydia found her eyes fixed on his hands. They were strong hands¡ªthe hands of a man who had trained with weapons despite his royal status. His forearms were muscular, the veins visible beneath his skin, speaking of strength carefully controlled.


    Her gaze traveled from his hands to his face, watching as he picked up a piece of fruit from his plate. The way his fingers handled the delicate slice of apple was almost mesmerizing. When he brought it to his mouth, her eyes followed, noting how his lips parted to accept the fruit.


    A drop of juice clung to his lower lip, and without thinking, he licked it away, his tongue quick and casual. Then he absently licked his fingertips to clean them, completely unaware of her stare or how such a simple action had suddenly made the room feel several degrees warmer.


    Lydia quickly looked away, her cheeks burning. She couldn¡¯t understand what was happening to her, why her heart was suddenly racing or why her mouth had gone dry. This was the man she had argued with just hours ago, the man whose cold demeanor had frustrated her for weeks. Yet here she was, captivated by his hands, his mouth, his mere presence beside her.


    Taking a shaky breath, she reached for her now-empty glass, only to realize there was nothing to drink. Before she could call for a servant, Ivan silently passed her his own untouched glass of water.


    Their fingers brushed as she took it from him, and their eyes met for the first time since he had entered the dining room. In that brief moment, Lydia saw something in his gaze¡ªa warmth, perhaps, or a question¡ªthat made her breath catch in her throat.

 Chapter 35: Cry For Love

    Chapter 35: Cry For LoveNight had long since fallen, and the walls of the chamber were lit only by the soft flicker of candlelight. Lydia sat at the edge of her bed, wrapped in silence. Her fingers rested in her lap, unmoving. The soft rustle of fabric and the quiet footsteps of her maids filled the room, but she barely noticed.


    Her thoughts were a mess.


    One of the maids gently tapped her shoulder. "Your Highness, it¡¯s time for your bath."


    Lydia stood without a word, her limbs light, her head heavy. She moved like she was drifting ¡ª like her soul hadn¡¯t caught up with her body. The bath water was warm, scented faintly with rose petals. Steam curled into the air as the maids began their usual routine, undressing her and guiding her into the tub. The heat embraced her skin, but her heart remained cold and confused.


    As they began to scrub her arms and shoulders gently, one maid spoke up with a small smile. "His Highness joined you for dinner today. You must be happy, Your Highness."


    Lydia blinked slowly, not responding.


    Another maid giggled softly. "There¡¯s something different about him lately. Did you notice? He didn¡¯t seem so... intimidating."


    Lydia still didn¡¯t respond. She barely heard them. Her mind had wandered far away ¡ª back to the dining table, back to him.


    She remembered how Ivan had sat across from her, quiet as always, but there was something in his silence that pulled at her. She remembered how his sleeves were rolled up slightly, revealing the veins and shape of his forearms. The way his fingers curled around the silver fork, the slight tension in his knuckles. How his fingers grazed over the smooth fruit before he picked it up, how his lips had been slightly damp from wine. His tongue had darted out to wet them. It was a subtle motion, unintentional maybe, but it made her chest tighten.


    She swallowed.


    Her mind wandered further ¡ª to that night.


    The night he touched her. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She could still feel it. The heat of his palm against her waist. The trail of kisses he left on her shoulder. The slow, deliberate way his mouth found her breast, sucking softly at first, then with more intent, more hunger. Her skin burned at the memory, tingled where his tongue had once traced circles. The way his hands had gripped her thighs and pulled her closer. How he had whispered nothing at all, yet said everything with the way he kissed her.


    "Your Highness?"


    Lydia blinked back to the present. One of the maids was gently patting her shoulder.


    "We¡¯ve finished. You may dress for the night."


    She nodded quietly and stepped out of the tub, her body still warm but her thoughts colder than ever. She said nothing as they helped her into her cream-colored nightdress ¡ª soft and loose against her freshly bathed skin. Her long hair was damp, cascading down her back like gold silk.


    She climbed into bed but knew sleep wouldn¡¯t come. The maids whispered goodnight and left. The room was quiet again.


    Too quiet.


    Lydia lay on her side, facing the wall, her arms wrapped around her stomach. She pressed her thighs together, her breath catching. It was unbearable. The weight of the memory. The ache in her chest. The empty space beside her.


    She closed her eyes tightly, wishing for something. Anything.


    ---


    Meanwhile, in the east wing of the palace, Ivan lay flat on his bed, one arm behind his head as he stared blankly at the ceiling.


    The candle by his bedside flickered in the silence.


    He couldn¡¯t sleep either.


    He didn¡¯t understand why his chest felt so heavy. Why her silence at dinner had left a strange hollow in him. He had wanted to speak. He had wanted to say something ¡ª anything ¡ª to ease the coldness between them. But nothing came out.


    Just her eyes looking at him. And him, swallowing words he didn¡¯t know how to say.


    He exhaled sharply and turned onto his side. His mind kept going back ¡ª not to dinner, but to that night. The way she had shivered under him. The way her voice had sounded when she moaned his name. The feel of her skin beneath his mouth.


    He shut his eyes tight and muttered to himself.


    "What is this...?"


    She turned slowly onto her back, her cream nightdress slipping over her skin like water. The fabric clung lightly to her body, damp from the steam of her bath, and soft as air. Her long legs stretched slightly under the covers, but her restlessness only deepened. She could feel the pulse of heat between them ¡ª not from the warm sheets or the summer night ¡ª but from inside her.


    From deep within.


    Lydia exhaled shakily, her lips parting. Her hand moved almost on its own, resting first on her chest ¡ª just over her heart ¡ª as if to calm it. But it only beat harder. She bit her lower lip and slid her palm down, over the swell of her breast, her fingers brushing lightly over the peak through the thin fabric.


    A soft gasp escaped her.


    Her nipple had hardened already. Sensitive, expectant. She rolled it between her fingers ¡ª slowly, gently ¡ª letting her head fall back against the pillows. Her other hand slid down to her thigh, fingers slipping under the hem of the nightdress. She dragged it up slowly, baring her legs inch by inch to the cool air.


    Her skin prickled.


    The memory of his touch overwhelmed her ¡ª the way his calloused fingers had started at her ankle, ghosting up her leg in slow, deliberate strokes. He hadn¡¯t rushed. He had taken his time, as though savoring every inch of her. And she had let him ¡ª no, begged for it ¡ª breathless and aching beneath him.


    Now, her own fingers traced that same path. She grazed the inside of her thigh, teasing herself the way he once had, until she trembled. She was soaked already. The thin fabric of her underwear clung to her folds, warm and wet with need.


    She swallowed hard and whispered his name.


    "Ivan..."


    Her voice was soft, nearly a breath.


    Her fingers dipped beneath the fabric, sliding slowly between her slick folds. Her thighs parted, knees bending slightly, hips shifting in search of more friction. She moaned ¡ª quiet and shaky ¡ª as her middle finger brushed against her clit. Her back arched slightly. Her legs tensed.


    There.


    She found the rhythm he¡¯d used ¡ª slow, then firm. Teasing circles, then deep pressure. She matched it, guiding herself through the memory. Her body moved with it, hips lifting faintly, seeking more.


    The nightdress had bunched around her waist now. Her skin was damp, her breath uneven. Her fingers moved faster, pressing deeper, circling again. Her nipple ached beneath her other hand, still being teased, still begging for attention.


    In her mind, he was here. His mouth was on her chest, hot and hungry, sucking her skin as though he owned it. His hand between her thighs, stroking her so expertly she could barely breathe. His breath warm against her ear, his weight pinning her down. The sound of his low groans echoing in her mind, the feel of his teeth grazing her collarbone.


    "Ivan... please..." she whispered again, breathless now.


    Her thighs trembled as her fingers rubbed tighter circles, faster now, her body twisting in the sheets. Her core clenched. Her lips parted in a gasp that turned into a moan ¡ª soft, high-pitched, desperate. Her eyes fluttered closed.


    She could feel herself rising ¡ª that tight coil pulling tighter and tighter.


    And then ¡ª it snapped.


    The wave washed over her, crashing through her in hot, pulsing tremors. Her legs shook. Her body arched. Her fingers froze in place as the heat burst through her core, overwhelming and relentless.


    Her breath hitched and caught in her throat. A cry slipped from her lips. Her name. His name. Everything and nothing all at once.


    She collapsed back onto the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her fingers were still buried between her thighs, wet and trembling. The nightdress clung to her, twisted and damp.


    She lay there in silence, the ache still humming beneath her skin. It wasn¡¯t enough. Not really. No matter how many times she touched herself, no matter how vivid the memory, it could never compare.


    It would never be the same as his hands. His mouth. His voice.


    But it was all she had.


    And for now, it would have to do.


    Outside her chambers, Ivan stood still. The hallway was quiet, lit only by the dim glow of lanterns. His hand rested on her door handle. He had been pacing his room for hours, restless and haunted. He couldn¡¯t stop thinking about her.


    What was she doing now?


    Was she sleeping? Was she thinking of him?


    His jaw tightened. Every part of him ached to be near her. To hold her. To speak, even if just one word. His fingers curled slowly around the handle.


    But he didn¡¯t turn it.


    Instead, a wave of doubt hit him, hard and cold. He could hear their voices in his head again. The whispers. The names they had called him all his life.


    Monster.


    The Devil.


    A beast in human skin.


    What right did he have to go in there? To reach for someone like her? Someone warm. Soft. Good.


    He slowly pulled his hand away, fingers trembling slightly. His throat tightened. He didn¡¯t deserve to see her. He didn¡¯t deserve her kindness. Her tears. Her touch.


    Quietly, he turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last.


    Inside the room, Lydia lay curled up, the sheets twisted around her body. Her cheeks were wet. Her hands clutched the pillow against her chest, her heart aching.


    She didn¡¯t know why she felt so empty after. So hollow. She wanted him. Not just his hands. Not just his body. She needed him to see her, to come to her, to hold her. But he didn¡¯t.


    A soft sob escaped her lips, muffled by the pillow.


    And just beyond the door, he had walked away.

 Chapter 36: The Devil Can Also Love

    Chapter 36: The Devil Can Also LoveThe next morning,


    Lydia woke up with swollen eyes. Her lashes felt heavy, her cheeks stiff from dried tears. She stayed quiet for a while, just lying still in bed, trying to process everything that had happened the night before. Shame and sadness sat heavy in her chest. The memory of her loneliness, of touching herself while thinking of Ivan, rushed back to her and made her heart twist painfully.


    She slowly sat up and moved to the edge of her bed. The sun had already risen, casting golden light through the window and bathing her in its gentle warmth. She looked outside and spotted a small nest on the tree just outside her window. Two little birds were cuddled together in it, and beneath them, she saw tiny eggs. They looked so peaceful. So complete. So... loved.


    She didn¡¯t know why, but her eyes filled with tears again. She tried to hold them back, but they spilled down her cheeks silently. Her chest ached. She wanted that warmth, that feeling of being protected and cared for.


    A soft knock on her door pulled her back.


    "Your Highness," one of her maids called from behind the door. "May we come in? We brought fresh clothes and warm water for your bath."


    Lydia quickly wiped her tears and sat up straight. "Come in," she said, trying her best to sound calm.


    The maids came in, smiling softly, pretending not to notice her red eyes. They laid out a soft lilac dress and prepared the bath. Lydia let them help her wash and dress. Her hair was pulled into a neat chignon. She looked beautiful, but she didn¡¯t feel it.


    Just as they were finishing, Katherine stepped into the room.


    "Your Highness," she said gently, "a messenger has arrived from the palace. He is waiting in the dining hall. Also, breakfast is ready."


    Lydia gave a small nod, still feeling drained. Katherine bowed and left.


    Meanwhile, in another part of the palace, Ivan was already awake. He hadn¡¯t slept all night. He kept tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking about Lydia. He hated the thought that she might have cried because of him. That she was hurting, and he could do nothing about it.


    He had freshened up and was sitting quietly when a knock came at his door. A servant entered, bowing.


    "Your Grace, a messenger has arrived and awaits in the dining hall."


    Ivan stood and gave a short nod. "I¡¯ll be there," he said simply and walked out, his face expressionless.


    Lydia entered the dining room first and paused when she saw Boris sitting in Ivan¡¯s usual seat. Her brows furrowed slightly.


    Boris stood up and bowed with a playful smile. "Your Highness," he greeted.


    She gave him a small nod and sat in the same seat she had used the previous night. "What happened? Why are you here?"


    Just then, Ivan entered the room. His gaze immediately landed on Boris.


    "Get out of my seat," he said firmly.


    Boris raised his hands playfully. "I didn¡¯t know you were here. Not to think of having a seat."


    Ivan didn¡¯t blink. "It¡¯s not your business to sit there."


    There was a tense silence, but then they all sat down and started eating. Lydia said nothing at first, her eyes on her food, until Ivan finally broke the silence.


    "Why are you here, Boris? I didn¡¯t know the head guard of the Czar had become a messenger all of a sudden."


    Boris grinned. "I came because I missed my one and only friend."


    Lydia looked up, surprised. Friend? That word didn¡¯t seem to suit Ivan at all. But now that she thought about it, she had noticed Boris seemed unusually playful around Ivan.


    As if reading her thoughts, Boris looked at her. "Are you surprised, Your Highness? That he has friends? We¡¯ve been friends since he was a child."


    Lydia blinked. "Oh... I just didn¡¯t expect it."


    Ivan responded flatly, "We¡¯re not friends."


    Boris gasped dramatically. "Hmph! So we¡¯re not friends, Your Highness? Then I guess I kept your embarrassing secrets for no reason. Maybe you¡¯d like to hear some?"


    He began to speak, but before he could say anything, Ivan quickly shoved a piece of bread into his mouth.


    "You never shut up," Ivan muttered.


    Lydia couldn¡¯t help it. She laughed.


    It was soft, but it filled the room like sunlight. Boris chuckled too,"Okay. Okay I¡¯ll shut up."


    But Ivan... he was frozen.


    He looked at her, really looked at her. She was laughing. And she looked... breathtaking. Light. Happy. He couldn¡¯t take his eyes off her. He had never seen her not once since their wedding smile or yet laugh. She looked beautiful. Too warm.


    Lydia noticed his gaze and looked at him. Their eyes locked. It was only for a second, but it felt like time paused. Then Ivan quickly looked away, pretending he hadn¡¯t been staring.


    She returned her attention to her food. As she picked up a piece of fruit, the small knife in her hand slipped and gave her a small cut on her finger.


    She winced.


    Before she could even react further, Ivan was at her side. He took her hand quickly and examined the cut.


    "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and tight.


    Then, without thinking, he leaned down and sucked on the cut gently to stop the bleeding.


    Boris sat there, speechless, mouth slightly open. He raised his brows and cleared his throat loudly.


    Ivan didn¡¯t seem to hear him at first. He was still holding Lydia¡¯s hand, lost in her gaze. She looked at him, stunned, her cheeks flushing. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Then they both seemed to realize where they were. Ivan let go of her hand immediately, turning away. Lydia quickly looked down, embarrassed. Her heart was racing.


    The rest of breakfast passed in silence, the air thick with tension.


    After breakfast, Boris followed Ivan around, annoying him as usual. Ivan didn¡¯t say much, but it was clear Boris was pushing his limits.


    Eventually, Boris grew tired and went off to take a nap. Ivan, relieved, stepped outside for a walk.


    He strolled around his palace slowly. The air was cold and fresh. Snow covered the ground, and the trees stood bare. It was quiet.


    Then he spotted her.


    Lydia stood near the orchard. She wore a thick cloak, but she was clearly shivering. Her hands were red from the cold. Ivan took a step forward, wanting to go to her, but he paused.


    She held a stick and was trying to knock down an apple from one of the higher branches. He watched her struggle with it. She hit the branch once, twice, then again. Finally, the apple dropped.


    She picked it up, smiling softly. Then Ivan noticed the little boy beside her ¨C one of the servant¡¯s children. She handed the apple to him, and the boy¡¯s eyes lit up. He hugged her tightly.


    She laughed.


    It wasn¡¯t a loud laugh, but it was pure and gentle. She looked so happy. So full of kindness.


    Ivan felt something shift in his chest. She hadn¡¯t picked the apple for herself. She came out into the freezing cold, just to make a little boy smile. And she looked so... content.


    He muttered to himself, "There were apples on the table this morning. She could have had one. Or asked a servant. Why come out in the cold for this?"


    Then he got his answer.


    Because that¡¯s who she was. Lydia.


    And it hit him. Like a blow to his chest.


    He was in love with her.


    Not just because she was beautiful. Not because she was kind to him. But because she was light. And warmth. And laughter. She was everything he had been told he could never have.


    She would never laugh like that around him. Never look that free. Around him, she would always be sad. Always cry.


    He turned away. His jaw clenched.


    He loved her. But he had to stay away.


    Because monsters didn¡¯t get to keep the light.


    And he... was still a monster.

 Chapter 37: Even the Devil Feels Love

    Chapter 37: Even the Devil Feels LoveNight had fallen. The castle stood still and quiet under the dark sky, with only the soft glow of lanterns lighting its stone halls. Lydia stepped out of her bathing room, her long golden hair damp and loose around her shoulders. Her maids had dressed her in a beautiful peach-colored gown that made her look even more delicate than she already was. The fabric shimmered slightly under the candlelight, matching the small, flickering hope in her heart.


    She walked down the hallway, her heart beating a little faster with each step, hoping she would see him again¡ªjust like the night before. She remembered how Ivan had joined her at the dining table unexpectedly. Just sitting near him, even in silence, had filled her with warmth.


    She took her seat at the large dining table, her eyes nervously flicking toward the door every now and then. Servants brought her food¡ªsteaming soups, warm bread, and grilled meats¡ªbut she barely looked at them. Her attention was only on the door. Each time it creaked slightly, her heart jumped. But it was always a servant, never him.


    Minutes turned into hours.


    She sat there for almost three hours, silently waiting. Her shoulders drooped as time passed, and the hope in her eyes slowly faded. Her fingers played with the spoon, pushing food around her plate, but never lifting it to her mouth. Her smile had long disappeared.


    Finally, when she could no longer pretend, she stood from the table, her heart heavy.


    Just then, the door opened.


    Her heart leapt again. She quickly sat back, fixing her hair and dress, her eyes wide with hope.


    But it wasn¡¯t Ivan.


    It was Katherine.


    The older woman looked at her gently. "Your Highness... you¡¯ve stayed a long time."


    Lydia gave her a faint smile, but it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. She looked down and whispered, more to herself than to Katherine, "He¡¯s not coming."


    And with that, she stood again, this time for good, and left the dining hall.


    Katherine noticed the untouched plates and the sadness written all over her young mistress¡¯s face. "But... you haven¡¯t eaten anything," she said softly.


    "I¡¯m not hungry," Lydia replied, her voice barely audible.


    She returned to her chambers and collapsed on her bed, still dressed in the beautiful gown she had worn just for him. Her body was exhausted, but her heart felt heavier. She didn¡¯t even have the strength to cry. What was the point? She already knew the truth.


    He wasn¡¯t coming. He never would.


    Even when she tried to stop hoping, the pain still came. Slowly, sleep pulled her under.


    In another part of the castle, Ivan sat in his chambers. Alone. Silent. Still.


    He hadn¡¯t gone downstairs. He hadn¡¯t seen her. He had stayed in bed, staring at nothing.


    He knew she would be waiting. He knew it would hurt her. And it broke him.


    But he told himself it was better this way. Staying away from her would keep her safe. She didn¡¯t belong in his world, and the more he stayed away, the more he believed she would give up on him. Maybe that was best. Maybe that would protect her.


    Even if it meant tearing his own heart to pieces.


    The next morning came slowly, dragging its sorrow with the light.


    Lydia opened her eyes. Her gaze immediately went to the window, where the same tree stood proudly outside. She looked up at the nest perched on one of its branches. The birds were there again¡ªhuddled together, keeping their tiny eggs warm from the cold.


    She stared at them for a long time.


    Even the birds had each other.


    Why didn¡¯t she?


    The ache in her chest returned.


    Her maids came in with cheerful greetings, trying to lift the mood. They bathed her gently and dressed her in a soft cream-colored gown that made her look graceful and gentle. But no dress could hide the sadness in her eyes.


    Soon she was in the dining hall again, seated at the same spot.


    Waiting.


    Hoping.


    Her eyes stayed glued to the door, just like the night before. But as the minutes passed, her hands grew cold. She tried to sip water, tried to stay calm, but her stomach was too tight with sadness.


    After thirty minutes of waiting, she couldn¡¯t hold it anymore.


    A single tear rolled down her cheek.


    She quickly wiped it away, not wanting anyone to see.


    Just then, a knock came on the door. She sat up and forced a small smile. Maybe it was him.


    "Come in," she said quickly.


    But again, it wasn¡¯t him.


    It was Boris.


    He walked in cheerfully, as always, his energy filling the room. He greeted her with a wide grin and took his seat at the table.


    "Where¡¯s that husband of yours hiding again?" he joked, clearly also confused by Ivan¡¯s absence.


    Lydia smiled faintly, trying hard to hide her disappointment. Her eyes were slightly red, and she hoped he wouldn¡¯t notice. She took a few bites of food, even though she could barely swallow.


    Boris, sensing something off, didn¡¯t say much after that. He continued eating, but glanced at her from time to time, his usual chatter missing.


    When breakfast ended, Lydia walked slowly to the library. She took out a book and sat by the window, but the words made no sense to her. Her eyes kept moving over the same sentence again and again, but nothing entered her mind.


    All she could think about was him.


    Where was he? Why didn¡¯t he come? Was she really that unwanted?


    She felt like she was going mad.


    And in his study, Ivan felt the same. He buried himself in reports, reading them over and over just to distract himself. But nothing worked. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face. Every time the wind blew against the windows, he thought it was her footsteps.


    But he didn¡¯t move.


    Night came again.


    Lydia dressed and went down for dinner. Boris was there again, stuffing his face and talking about something funny that had happened in town. But Lydia only gave half-smiles. Her eyes kept flicking to the door.


    Ivan never came.


    Again.


    She ate a few bites, then excused herself quietly and returned to her room.


    Her maids came in to help her get ready for bed. They noticed her quietness, her pale face, and the way she stared blankly at the wall. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    One of them tried to cheer her up. "Your Highness, the birds on the tree outside are so beautiful. They were singing today¡ª"


    That was it.


    That one sentence shattered Lydia¡¯s control.


    She broke down in tears.


    The maids panicked, rushing to her side. "What¡¯s wrong, Your Highness?"


    "I... I just don¡¯t understand..." Lydia sobbed, her voice shaking. "Why do I have to be treated like this? What did I do wrong?"


    Outside the door, Ivan had just arrived. The door was slightly open. He had come to see her, finally unable to take it anymore. He missed her so badly he couldn¡¯t breathe.


    But then he froze.


    He heard her crying.


    "I feel so unwanted... so unloved..." she said through sobs. "Even animals experience love... Why can¡¯t I? Why am I always alone? Ever since my parents died... I¡¯ve had no one."


    Her voice broke. "I know he¡¯ll never love me... I know. But I can¡¯t help but hope... just a little... that one day, he might think of me. Even if it¡¯s just for a moment."


    Ivan¡¯s chest tightened.


    Inside, the maids tried to comfort her. "It¡¯s okay, Your Highness. He¡¯ll come around."


    "No, he won¡¯t," she whispered.


    She eventually cried herself to sleep. Her cheeks were still wet with tears. The maids pulled the blanket over her and quietly left.


    Ivan, now hiding behind a pillar so they wouldn¡¯t see him, listened to their whispers.


    "Poor girl," one said. "She¡¯s in love with the devil."


    "She should be glad he ignores her," said another. "I don¡¯t know what she¡¯s crying about."


    "Don¡¯t be cruel," said the first. "He¡¯s still her husband. It¡¯s not her fault she was forced to marry him."


    "If you ask me," the second maid muttered, "he doesn¡¯t deserve her. She¡¯s kind and beautiful... and he¡¯s just..."


    Ivan heard it all.


    And said nothing.


    Because they were right.


    He didn¡¯t deserve her. They knew it and so did he.


    When the maids were long gone, he returned. He stood at her door, quietly staring at her sleeping form. Her eyes were swollen. Her breath was unsteady. Her face was still stained with sadness.


    He walked in silently and reached toward her. Carefully, he pulled the blanket up around her shoulders so she wouldn¡¯t catch a cold. Then, his fingers brushed her cheek.


    He leaned down and kissed her forehead.


    "I¡¯m sorry for everything..." he whispered.


    Then he put out the lamp and turned to leave. As he did, he didn¡¯t notice Katherine standing in the shadows, watching everything with quiet eyes.


    She said nothing.

 Chapter 38: When The Devil Loses His Mask

    Chapter 38: When The Devil Loses His MaskThe next morning came, but Ivan was still asleep. His body lay heavy on the bed, wrapped in the warmth of the blankets, but his mind was far from rest.


    He was dreaming.


    In his dream, he was just a little boy. Barely four years old.


    The house was small and quiet. Too quiet. There was no sound of laughter. No sound of footsteps. Just silence.


    He was alone.


    The little boy stood on his toes, reaching for a piece of cake placed on a high shelf. His tiny hands stretched upward, but it was too far. A stool sat by the corner, and he dragged it over. He climbed on it, wobbling, trying to balance himself. His eyes sparkled at the sight of the sweet cake just within reach.


    But the stool wasn¡¯t steady.


    Just as his fingers touched the edge of the plate, the stool gave way.


    Everything happened fast. His hand struck a vase beside the shelf. It toppled and came crashing down with him. The sound of breaking glass filled the air, followed by the sharp sting of pain.


    The vase had shattered on his small arms, cutting deep into his skin.


    He screamed.


    He cried.


    His little body trembled as blood streamed from his arms. He sat there on the cold floor, in pain, in fear, and worst of all¡ªcompletely alone.


    No one came.


    No one held him.


    No one even noticed.


    ---


    Ivan jolted awake.


    His breathing was heavy. His chest rose and fell quickly as he sat up. His whole body was covered in sweat. His eyes darted around the room, disoriented.


    He looked down at his left arm.


    The scar from that day was still there.


    He ran his fingers over it slowly, his heart aching. Some pain never left¡ªeven after years.


    As he wiped his face, trying to calm himself, he suddenly noticed someone sitting quietly by the window.


    It was Boris.


    Ivan blinked in surprise.


    Before he could say a word, Boris looked at him and asked softly, "Do you still have nightmares, Your Highness?"


    Ivan gave a slow nod.


    Boris sighed and gave him a half-smile. "Of course, you do."


    Ivan tried to speak, but Boris raised his brow and continued, teasing, "Maybe your nightmares wouldn¡¯t be this bad if you didn¡¯t sleep alone every night."


    Ivan rolled his eyes, already knowing where this was going. "Don¡¯t start."


    But Boris wasn¡¯t done. "You¡¯re married now, yet you¡¯re still hugging your pillow like a lonely old man. If you spent your nights with your wife instead of sulking alone, maybe your dreams would be sweeter."


    Ivan snapped, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Boris. "Shut up."


    Boris caught the pillow with a laugh. "Oh, come on. You¡¯ve been threatening to kill me since you were twelve. I¡¯m still alive."


    Ivan stood up and walked over to the table to pour himself a glass of water. His hands trembled slightly, but he kept his face calm.


    Boris leaned forward, voice more serious now. "But really. Why?"


    Ivan didn¡¯t answer.


    "She likes you," Boris said gently. "It¡¯s clear as day. She looks at you like you¡¯re the only person in the world. She¡¯s kind. She¡¯s beautiful. She¡¯s not afraid of you. So why, Ivan? Do you not like her?"


    There was a pause.


    Ivan lowered the glass and stared blankly at the floor. Then he whispered, his voice soft and full of pain, "Does it matter?"


    Boris frowned. "Of course, it matters."


    Ivan gave a weak smile, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. "The moon and the sun never meet, Boris. One rises when the other sets. Even if they long for each other, they live in different skies."


    Boris stared at him in silence, unsure how to respond.


    Ivan sat back down on the edge of the bed. His voice broke a little. "Everyone who¡¯s ever cared about me... ended up hurt. I burn everything I touch. I don¡¯t want her to be next."


    His eyes were glassy now. Shining with the pain he always kept buried. "I¡¯m not a man, Boris. I¡¯m a monster. A devil. There¡¯s nothing good in me." S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The room went quiet.


    Boris wanted to say something¡ªto tell him he was wrong. But the words never came.


    Then Ivan¡¯s voice turned sharp. "Why are you here, Boris? Did my father send you to spy on me?"


    Boris stiffened.


    He couldn¡¯t lie.


    "Yes, Your Highness," he admitted. "His Majesty is... concerned about you."


    Ivan¡¯s face turned cold.


    "Tell him to keep his concern to himself."


    Boris tried again. "But he¡¯s still your father. And you¡¯re still his son¡ª"


    "Father?" Ivan scoffed bitterly. "I¡¯m no son of that man. I¡¯m just a weapon. A shield to protect his throne. A hunting dog he keeps on a chain until he needs someone killed."


    His voice grew louder, colder. "Don¡¯t you dare mention that man in front of me again. Or I¡¯ll forget whatever friendship you claim we have."


    Boris bowed his head. "Yes, Your Highness."


    He turned to leave.


    But at the door, he stopped and said gently, "Your Highness?"


    Ivan snapped. "What is it now?"


    Boris hesitated, then asked, "Where¡¯s your mask?"


    Ivan looked away. "I lost it. I¡¯ll have another one made."


    Boris nodded. "No need. You don¡¯t need to keep hiding behind it."


    He paused again. "I¡¯ll be leaving today."


    Ivan said nothing.


    He just looked out the window, silent.


    ---


    In Lydia¡¯s chambers, morning had come.


    But Lydia didn¡¯t feel like moving.


    She lay quietly in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes were dull. Her body heavy. The sadness in her heart weighed her down like a stone.


    A knock came on the door.


    It was her maids.


    She didn¡¯t move.


    "I want to stay in bed," she said softly.


    "Shall we bring breakfast to your room, Your Highness?" one asked.


    She shook her head. "No. I¡¯m not hungry."


    The maids looked at one another, worried. But they obeyed.


    A while later, another knock came.


    Lydia sighed and sat up a little. "Come in."


    It was Boris.


    He gave her a small smile.


    "I came to say goodbye," he said.


    She nodded, her voice faint. "Safe travels."


    "I left a small gift for you," he said. "In the music lounge."


    She looked toward the door and whispered, "I¡¯ll get it later."


    He bowed. "Take care, Your Highness."


    Then he left.


    Outside, Boris mounted his horse.


    As he rode toward the gate, he reached into his bag and pulled something out.


    Ivan¡¯s silver mask.


    He stared at it for a moment, then without a word, threw it into the lake beside the palace. The water rippled as the mask sank to the bottom.


    He watched it disappear.


    Then he said softly to himself, "It¡¯s high time you stop treating yourself like a monster."

 Chapter 39: When The Devil Worships You

    Chapter 39: When The Devil Worships YouThe silence in the room had settled like dust. For a while, Lydia remained there, curled into herself on the edge of the bed, staring out at nothing. Her eyes were dry now. The ache in her chest hadn¡¯t gone, but it had dulled into something quieter... something she could hold without falling apart.


    She let out a small breath and whispered to no one, "I have to let go."


    Her voice sounded foreign. Hollow, but certain. She slowly stood, brushing her hair away from her face, then reached for the bell on the side table and rang it gently.


    Within moments, her maid came in with careful steps, as if unsure what state she¡¯d find her in. But Lydia only gave a small nod.


    "Help me get dressed," she said softly. "I want to take a walk."


    Her maids didn¡¯t ask questions. They moved quietly helping her bathe, then, bringing out a soft blue day dress and brushing out her hair. They tied the delicate ribbons at her back and buttoned her sleeves, and all the while, Lydia stood still, her gaze distant.


    She had to move forward. Even if it hurt. Even if she didn¡¯t understand him.


    Once she was ready, Lydia stepped out into the hall. The manor felt different today ¡ª quieter, though she couldn¡¯t tell if that was real or just her imagination. Her footsteps echoed lightly on the polished floor as she made her way toward the library. A familiar place. A safe place.


    But something caught her eye.


    The door to the lounge was slightly ajar.


    She hadn¡¯t noticed it before. Something tugged at her ¡ª something small and unexplainable ¡ª and her feet shifted direction on their own. She reached for the door and pushed it open slowly.


    No one was there.


    The room was still, soft light filtering through the windows. And on the polished piano, a single sheet of music sat propped up. A handwritten composition, the ink slightly faded. She stepped closer.


    Just one page.


    Her fingers brushed the edge of the paper, heart stirring strangely. The notes looked intricate, delicate, but something about them felt... warm. Familiar. Like they had a voice of their own.


    She remembered what Boris had said earlier in passing ¡ª that Ivan had left a gift for her somewhere.


    Could this be it?


    She sat down carefully, her fingers hovering over the keys. Then, with a slow breath, she began to play. The melody was difficult, but her hands moved with careful memory ¡ª years of practice with her mother guiding her fingertips.


    The notes danced softly through the room, wrapping around her like something from a dream.


    **


    Ivan leaned back in his chair, eyes tired from scanning endless reports. His study was quiet now. He¡¯d sent everyone away, wanting just a moment of peace.


    But then¡ª


    He heard it.


    A melody, faint but unmistakable, drifting through the halls.


    He froze.


    He knew that song.


    His breath caught, heart clenching in his chest. Slowly, like something pulling him forward, he stood up and walked out of the room. His steps quickened as he followed the sound.


    And when he reached the lounge and opened the door¡ª


    He stopped cold.


    Lydia sat at the piano, playing the piece with soft, haunting grace. For a moment, it was like looking at a ghost.


    She turned quickly when she heard the door. Her fingers slipped from the keys, startled.


    "I¡¯m sorry," she said quietly, standing up. "Boris told me there was a gift here for me. I saw the music and thought it was... I didn¡¯t know it was yours."


    Her voice trembled with guilt.


    Ivan didn¡¯t speak for a moment. He only stared at the piano, then slowly walked toward it.


    "Who gave this to you?" he asked, voice low.


    "I... no one. I just found it here."


    He looked at her, something unreadable in his expression.


    "That song," he said after a long pause, "was written by my mother."


    Her eyes widened. "Your mother?"


    "She taught me to play," he said quietly. "This... this was the last thing she composed before she died."


    Lydia felt something twist inside her. She remembered, vaguely, someone mentioning Ivan¡¯s mother had passed when he was still young.


    She stepped back, regret heavy in her voice. "I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª"


    "Wait," he said, gently stopping her with a hand at her wrist. "Stay. Please."


    She looked up at him.


    His eyes weren¡¯t cold. They were... sad. Almost fragile in a way she hadn¡¯t seen before.


    He sat beside her at the piano, his hands resting on his lap.


    "Can you teach me?" he asked, quietly. "I¡¯ve forgotten how to play it."


    Lydia hesitated. Then nodded.


    She reached out, guiding his hands slowly to the right positions, her fingers brushing against his. The air between them grew still, filled only by the soft sound of their breaths and the faint notes she played to lead him.


    Their hands kept meeting. She corrected his movements gently. Her voice was soft when she spoke.


    And then... she looked up.


    He was already staring at her.


    Not coldly. Not angrily.


    Just... looking.


    There was sadness in his eyes. And something else. Something deeper, heavier.


    Lydia¡¯s heart skipped.


    She didn¡¯t understand it. Why he looked so lost. Why she suddenly wanted to hold him. Why her own breath had started to catch in her throat.


    "I was taught by my mother too," she said nervously, trying to fill the silence. "So... don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s not that hard. You¡¯ll remember."


    He didn¡¯t answer. His hand gently closed around hers ¡ª not to guide, not to correct, but to hold.


    She looked at their hands.


    Then at his face.


    "Why..." she whispered, almost afraid to speak, "why do you look so sad?"


    His gaze dropped to her lips. His voice came quiet and strained, like something breaking inside him.


    "Why can¡¯t I stop myself from wanting you?"


    She froze.


    The next second, his hand reached for her cheek, brushing gently along her skin, tracing the curve of her face with trembling fingers. He leaned in slowly ¡ª and then, he kissed her.


    Softly.


    Tenderly.


    She didn¡¯t pull away.


    Her lips answered his, quietly at first, then with a growing need that bloomed between them. His hands moved to cradle her face, then down to her neck, tracing her skin with aching slowness.


    He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, then her jaw. Her breath caught.


    She gasped as his lips trailed down to her neck, soft and hot against her pulse. His fingers slipped around her waist, drawing her closer as he kissed her collarbone, open-mouthed and hungry but still gentle, as if he couldn¡¯t bear to hurt her.


    Her hands reached for him, finding his chest, his shoulders, anything to ground herself.


    Then she felt him move lower, his mouth brushing over the top of her chest.


    He kissed the curve of her breast through her dress, then pulled it aside with care. His lips closed around her nipple, his tongue circling it slowly as she let out a sharp moan, her back arching.


    "Ivan..." she whispered, eyes fluttering.


    He lifted his head, only to kiss her again, lips warm and desperate.


    Then he moved lower, down her stomach, past the edge of her dress.


    He knelt before her.


    His hands lifted the hem of her gown, inch by inch, until it pooled around her thighs. She trembled as he reached for her underwear, pulling it down gently, reverently, like it meant something.


    And then¡ª


    His mouth found her.


    Her breath caught in her throat, her hips lifting slightly as his tongue slipped between her folds. Slow, careful, deliberate. He tasted her like he was starving, holding her thighs with both hands to keep her from slipping away.


    Her moans filled the room, soft and broken.


    "Ivan..."


    He looked up at her briefly, eyes dark and glassy with emotion ¡ª and then buried his face deeper between her legs, sucking gently on her clit, letting her ride the edge again and again, until her body shook from the pleasure.


    When she finally came, her hands were in his hair, fingers tangled, mouth open in a quiet cry.


    He rose back up, kissing her lips again ¡ª tasting her, tasting everything.


    His lips lingered on hers¡ªtasting, drinking, as if he needed her breath to breathe.


    Lydia¡¯s hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, clutching at the only thing that felt real. Her chest still heaved with the fading tremors of her release, her cheeks flushed, her lashes heavy. Yet he didn¡¯t stop. His touch only softened, and his eyes searched hers¡ªnot for answers, but for permission.


    Then, without a word, he drew back slightly.


    His hand moved to the laces at the back of her corset.


    She didn¡¯t speak. She didn¡¯t stop him.


    He paused¡ªjust for a moment¡ªas if asking her again in silence.


    Then slowly, he began to unlace her. One string at a time. Each pull was gentle, careful, until the fabric loosened around her. He helped her out of the stays with unhurried hands, revealing the slope of her back, the curve of her spine.


    She was still half-naked beneath the dress¡ªbare from the waist down, the soft fabric of her corset slipping off her shoulders. She turned away slightly, not to hide but to breathe. To let herself feel the air, the quiet between them.


    Ivan leaned in.


    His lips brushed her neck again.


    But this time, he didn¡¯t stop.


    He kissed her shoulder, then lower¡ªeach kiss a slow descent down her spine. From the nape of her neck to the dip just above her waist, his mouth left soft, worshipful touches, reverent as if in prayer. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Lydia shivered, her breath catching. Her fingers gripped the edge of the nearby settee, steadying herself.


    He guided her there.


    Gently, Ivan took her hand and helped her sit down, her bare skin pressed against the velvet upholstery. She looked up at him, lips parted, and this time¡ªwithout a word¡ªher fingers reached for him.


    He let her.


    She touched the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one, the fabric parting slowly beneath her trembling hands.


    He stood still.


    No tension. No shame.


    She had seen his scars before. But now, she let herself trace them. The healed lines across his ribs, the rougher skin near his shoulder, and the long faded wound that curved beneath his collarbone.


    She didn¡¯t ask how.


    She didn¡¯t need to.


    Her fingers moved with aching softness, memorizing what had once been hidden from the world. Her touch trembled, but she didn¡¯t pull back. She placed her palm flat against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart.


    Steady. Warm. Human.


    Ivan caught her hand.


    He brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers¡ªeach one, one after the other. Then he released her.


    She didn¡¯t stop.


    She rose slightly, leaning forward. Her mouth found his neck, kissing slowly, open-mouthed and hot against his skin. She kissed him there again, feeling his pulse jump beneath her lips.


    Then she moved behind his ear, letting her breath graze him as she pressed another kiss there.


    His breath hitched.


    His hands came to her thighs again, pulling her gently into him as he knelt before her once more, but this time not for worship¡ªjust closeness. Their bodies touched¡ªskin to skin, heat meeting heat. He pressed his forehead to hers, his arms wrapped around her waist.


    Still, they didn¡¯t speak.


    They only breathed together.


    Held each other in the silence that wrapped around them like dusk.


    And in that moment, there was no war between them. No walls. No pain.


    Only skin. And warmth. And the quiet ache of something that felt dangerously close to love.

 Chapter 40: In The Devil’s Arms

    Chapter 40: In The Devil¡¯s ArmsIvan leaned in.


    His lips brushed the bare slope of her back¡ªsoft, reverent. Each kiss he left behind felt like an apology. A plea. A memory he didn¡¯t want to lose.


    Lydia shivered beneath his mouth, her breath unsteady. She didn¡¯t stop him. Her fingers clutched at the edge of the piano bench, holding on to the moment like it might slip away if she moved too fast.


    When he rose again, his hands cupped her face gently, as if she were something fragile. Something he didn¡¯t deserve to touch. But she leaned into his palms, her eyes glassy.


    "I need you," he whispered hoarsely.


    Her lips parted, but no words came. Only a quiet nod.


    He lifted her in his arms¡ªcareful, almost desperate¡ªand carried her to the velvet chaise in the corner of the lounge. The room was still bathed in soft afternoon light, and everything around them felt distant. Unimportant.


    He laid her down, his body following hers.


    His mouth found hers again, and this time, it wasn¡¯t just need. It was everything. Every unsaid thing. Every ache and longing wrapped into the shape of a kiss.


    His hands moved over her slowly, relearning the curve of her waist, the dip of her hips, the warmth of her skin. He undressed her with patience, with reverence¡ªhis eyes never leaving hers, not even when he bared her completely.


    She trembled beneath him, not from fear, but from the weight of what was unfolding.


    When his clothes joined hers on the floor, and he hovered above her¡ªnaked and vulnerable¡ªthere was no trace of the cold, unreadable man she once feared. Only Ivan. Only a man who looked at her like she was something he¡¯d been waiting his whole life to hold.


    He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard.


    "You can still walk away," he said, voice rough with restraint. "Say the word, and I¡¯ll stop."


    Lydia reached up and cradled his cheek. "I don¡¯t want to walk away."


    His eyes burned as he kissed her again¡ªdeeper, slower, his hips settling between hers.


    Her hand moved between them, fingers brushing just above his lower abdomen. She paused, her breath catching, cheeks flushed.


    "Can I... touch you?" she whispered, her voice trembling with curiosity.


    Ivan¡¯s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. Then he nodded slowly, voice thick. "Yes. Please."


    Her hand moved lower, tentative at first, until her fingers wrapped around him. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, his body jolting slightly at the contact. She explored him gently, fascinated by the feel of him, the way he reacted to her touch. Her fingers curled more confidently, and he groaned softly, his forehead pressed to hers, barely holding himself together.


    He kissed her again¡ªharder this time¡ªhis control unraveling.


    He entered her in one careful push, his breath stuttering against her mouth as she gasped softly. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer.


    They moved slowly at first, their bodies learning each other in a language only they understood. His hand cradled the back of her head, his lips murmuring against her skin¡ªher shoulder, her jaw, her chest.


    Her moans were soft, breathy, helpless. Every thrust sent a shiver through her, pleasure and emotion blending into something deeper. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And then, somewhere in the middle of it all, Lydia whispered it.


    "I love you."


    It slipped out like a prayer, like a confession she hadn¡¯t meant to say out loud¡ªbut needed to.


    Ivan froze for just a moment.


    Then his mouth crashed into hers, a kiss full of everything he couldn¡¯t say. His rhythm changed¡ªdeeper, more desperate, like he was trying to bury himself inside her, hold on to the one truth neither of them could run from.


    His lips moved to her ear, his voice breaking as he spoke.


    "You shouldn¡¯t... but God, I need you to."


    She cupped his face again, pulling him down until their foreheads touched.


    "I do," she whispered. "I love you, Ivan."


    He let out a shaky breath¡ªthen drove into her again, harder now, unable to hold back.


    Her moans grew louder, needier, as he began to thrust deeper into her. She couldn¡¯t think anymore¡ªher mind had gone hazy, her body responding instinctively to every grind of his hips. It felt like heaven, like being swept into a place where nothing else existed but the rhythm of their bodies, the heat of his breath, and the sound of his name slipping from her lips again and again.


    "Ivan... Ivan..."


    Her voice trembled each time she moaned it, helpless and breathless.


    He could see her slipping, unraveling right beneath him¡ªlost in the intensity of it all.


    He kissed down the valley between her breasts, soft and slow, and then his mouth took one of her nipples, suckling gently before trailing kisses higher, up the curve of her breast, across her collarbone, until he reached her neck.


    "Come back to me," he murmured against her throat, his thrusts still steady, deep, almost too much.


    Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she kissed his neck open-mouthed, hot and eager. Her lips found the spot just beneath his jaw and she bit him gently, her teeth grazing his skin as she whimpered.


    He groaned, a low, primal sound, and buried himself deeper inside her. "You¡¯re going to ruin me," he growled against her skin.


    Lydia arched beneath him, her legs wrapping around his waist, locking him in.


    "I want to," she whispered, her voice raw. "Ruin me too."


    He didn¡¯t hold back after that.


    His thrusts grew rougher, more desperate¡ªdriving into her again and again as the chaise rocked beneath them. Their bodies moved together in a frantic rhythm, sweat clinging to their skin. Her nails raked down his back, and he moaned into her neck, grinding against the deepest parts of her.


    She was falling apart beneath him, her moans becoming broken gasps as her climax built and built¡ªuntil it finally tore through her with a sharp cry, her body tightening around him.


    The way she clutched him, how her lips trembled as she whispered his name, pushed him over the edge.


    He came with a shudder, holding her tightly, his hips pressed deep inside her as he spilled into her with a groan.


    It was surrender.


    He collapsed against her, still inside her, both of them gasping for breath. Her hands threaded through his damp hair, holding him close, grounding them in the silence that followed.


    Neither of them spoke for a long time.


    Because they didn¡¯t need to.


    His heart thudded against hers, steady, real.


    And in that quiet, tangled moment, something between them changed.


    Something fragile, and unspoken, became real.