Lydia arrived ho 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 claid.
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 co 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 soone else.
When she entered, Alexander was seated behind his desk, signing a few docunts. Another man stood before him, but the mont 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 ?"
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 confird, nodding. "Only Twenty-four years older than ."
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 ."
Her heart began to pound. She gripped the edge of the chair. "How can you say this to ?" she said, her voice rising. "You expect to marry a man that old—for business?"
Her uncle sighed. "Don’t start, Lydia."
"No! I won’t be quiet!" she shouted. "How can you do this to ."
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 slamd 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 . 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 ?" 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—" he pointed a finger at her "—will be the first and last ti 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 slamd the door shut behind her. She locked it with shaking hands and fell onto the bed, crying into the pillows.
Galina and Daria ca monts 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.
anwhile, 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.
Soone 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 movents, 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 sa 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—for revenge and for paynt."
The prisoner’s eyes glead with sothing dark.
"You’ll get your revenge," the stranger said again, turning to leave. "If you’re brave enough to take it."
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