The sun was setting, spreading golden light over the forest. The birds had grown quiet, and shadows stretched across the ground. Ivan sat on the cold earth with his back against the old tree. His body was still, his face pale in the fading light. The air slled of damp leaves and pine, yet it gave him no comfort.
He should have gone back to the palace by now, but he did not feel the urge to move. His heart was heavy, his thoughts darker than the forest around him. He only wanted to disappear. The tree where he sat was the sa tree where Lydia once saved his life. That mory made his chest ache.
A part of him wished he had died that day. If he had, Lydia would never have suffered all she had suffered. She would never have been dragged into his cursed life. He whispered bitterly, "Why did you save that day, Lydia? You should have left to die."
The forest answered with silence.
Far away, back in the palace, Lydia sat alone in her room. The window was open, and the soft air of spring brushed against her face. The sun was sinking, coloring the sky with shades of red and orange. She sat by the window, her hands on her lap, her eyes staring at the horizon.
Her heart was restless. She told herself over and over not to think of him, but no matter how hard she tried, Ivan’s face returned to her mind. She wanted to push it away. She wanted to hate him. But the more she tried, the more her heart broke.
Then ca a knock at the door. It was gentle, almost hesitant.
Lydia’s voice turned cold at once. "I don’t want visitors. Leave."
For a mont there was silence, and then a soft, young voice answered. "It’s , Leonid. Can I co in, please? I just want to talk to you."
Lydia sighed heavily. Her shoulders slumped, and she closed her eyes for a mont. Finally, she said, "Co in."
The door opened, and little Leonid entered. His steps were small and careful. He looked at her with wide eyes full of worry. "Sister... I an, Your Highness," he corrected himself shyly.
Lydia’s tone was firm. "What is it?"
Leonid swallowed. His lips trembled as he finally spoke. "I just wanted to talk about Brother."
At once Lydia’s eyes darkened. She turned her face away and muttered, "I do not want to speak about him."
Leonid’s young voice shook. "But... it’s not true, right? What I heard the servants whispering about... it’s not true. Brother would never do that. He’s a good person. He would never... never hurt you. I know my brother more than anyone. He wouldn’t have done that to you. To anyone."
His innocence, his desperate hope, only made Lydia’s chest burn with more pain. She snapped at him, her voice sharper than she ant. "Everything you know is a lie, Leonid. Your brother isn’t a good person. He isn’t brave. He’s just a cruel man with no conscience."
Leonid’s eyes widened, filling with tears. "That’s not true," he said quickly. "Brother is a good person. He—"
Lydia cut him off, her voice breaking but harsh. "He left . Do you hear ? He threw away like I was nothing. And he’ll do the sa to you, Leonid. He’ll hurt you worse than he hurt . Don’t think you’re safe. Don’t believe in him."
Her words pierced the little boy’s heart. His tears spilled, and with a broken cry he turned and ran out of the room. "It’s not true! You’re all lying!" His small voice echoed in the hallway as he disappeared, sobbing.
The door closed behind him, and silence filled the room again.
Lydia’s chest rose and fell quickly. She pressed a hand against her eyes as tears threatened to escape. "I was too harsh," she whispered to herself. Her voice was soft, filled with regret. She looked out the window again, wiping her face roughly. "Stop thinking about him, Lydia. Stop it."
But her heart would not listen.
Elsewhere in the palace, in the stillness of his study, Vladimir sat at his desk. The papers before him lay untouched. His hands rested against his forehead, his thoughts tangled and heavy. The candles had been lit, though the fla flickered weakly against the large room.
A knock ca on the door. "Enter," Vladimir said.
Boris stepped inside and bowed. "Your Majesty, you called for ."
Vladimir lifted his head and let out a long sigh. His eyes were tired. "Yes. Sit."
Boris obeyed, taking a seat across from him. The silence stretched until finally Boris spoke. "It’s about His Highness, is it not?"
Vladimir’s brows pressed together. "He hasn’t returned still."
Boris lowered his eyes. "Yes."
Vladimir leaned back, his voice heavy with thought. "I still cannot understand what happened today. It doesn’t make any sense. What do you think, Boris?"
Boris folded his hands on his knee and spoke carefully. "You are right, Your Majesty. From what I have observed, I do not think he knew about the baby. And... that is not all."
Vladimir’s gaze sharpened. "What else?"
Boris hesitated. Then he said, "Their divorce."
Vladimir narrowed his eyes. "What about it?"
Boris’s voice lowered. "Sothing is strange. I know His Highness loved her very much. It doesn’t make any sense for him to leave her for such a small reason. I think... he is hiding sothing. Or—"
Vladimir finished the thought. "He’s protecting her from sothing."
Boris nodded silently.
Vladimir leaned forward, his hands gripping the arm of his chair. His face was full of questions, but none had answers. "Then what is he protecting her from?"
anwhile, in another quiet part of the palace, Olga sat alone in her chambers. The candles on her table glowed faintly, their light touching her face as she played with a folded parchnt in her hand.
Her lips curved into a smile. This was the parchnt she had kept hidden for years. The one that had co from an unknown hand three years ago. Slowly, she unfolded it, and from within she pulled out a piece of paper.
It was part of a ledger, nothing more than ink and numbers. But to Olga, it was power.
She traced her finger over the lines and whispered with delight, "So... all it took to make him suffer for the rest of his life was just a single piece of paper."
Her laughter was soft, but it carried the coldness of poison.
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