Lydia still lay on the bed, her body warm under the thick blanket, but her heart felt cold and restless. Ivan was beside her, still and quiet, his chest rising and falling peacefully as he slept. She turned her head slightly to look at him.
There were so many questions swirling in her head.
Did he hurt soone? Was it blood from a person or sothing else? She rembered the streak of red in his hair. It hadn’t looked like much, but it was enough to make her heart twist with unease.
She shut her eyes tightly, trying to push the thoughts away. Maybe I’m just overthinking. Maybe there’s a reason. A good reason. But the feeling wouldn’t go. Sothing felt wrong. Not with him... but around him. Like a shadow she couldn’t see clearly.
Beside her, Ivan stirred and slowly opened his eyes. His gaze softened when it landed on her. "Good morning," he said in his calm, deep voice.
Lydia looked away.
He noticed.
His hand reached over to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, but she pulled slightly back. It wasn’t obvious, but it was enough. His hand paused in the air.
"Is sothing wrong?" he asked gently.
"No," she said too quickly. "I’m okay."
He didn’t believe her. She could tell from the way his eyes lingered. But he didn’t ask again. He only nodded once, quietly stood up, and left her chambers without another word.
Once he was gone, Lydia finally breathed. Her chest felt heavy. Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Still, she forced herself to bathe, get dressed, and eat sothing small at breakfast.
By noon, she decided to go to the library. Books always helped calm her.
As she walked through the hallway, she passed by a few servants carrying baskets. She barely paid them any attention—until their low whispers reached her ears.
"His Highness always leaves at night," one said.
"He doesn’t use the main gates," another replied.
"No one knows where he goes."
Lydia froze mid-step. They were talking about Ivan.
She turned the corner and continued walking, but their words stayed in her ears. Her stomach tightened. Her chest felt heavy again.
What is he doing at night?
The rest of the day passed slowly. Lydia couldn’t focus on anything. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the rumors, to Ivan’s bloodied hair, to his silence.
When night ca, the tension in her chest only grew.
In the dining room, it was only her and Tatiana sitting at the long table. Servants moved around them, placing dishes and lighting candles.
Lydia looked across the table at Tatiana. She thought of asking her. Maybe she knew sothing. Maybe she could explain. But right as the words ford in her mouth, she swallowed them.
What if she doesn’t know either?
She stayed silent.
Just then, Ivan walked into the room.
He looked calm as ever, even a little warm. Like nothing was strange. Like everything was fine.
Lydia smiled slightly and nodded at him. Pretending.
He sat beside her, and picked at his food. But she could feel his eyes glancing at her now and then. She knew he could tell sothing was off.
After dinner, Lydia returned to her chambers. She sat on the edge of her bed, hugging her knees.
A few monts later, Ivan entered with a book in his hand. One they had read together before. He smiled and said, "I thought we could read for a bit. Maybe it’ll help you relax."
She gave a soft smile and nodded, though she avoided looking directly at him.
He opened the book and began to read. His voice was soft and steady. He sat beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth.
But Lydia barely listened. Her thoughts were far away. Her answers were short. Her eyes stayed low.
Ivan paused.
"Is sothing wrong, Lydia?"
She didn’t want to lie. But she couldn’t say the truth.
"No," she whispered. "I’m just tired."
He looked at her for a long mont, studying her face. It was clear he didn’t believe her. But he didn’t press.
Instead, he brushed her hair gently with his fingers, his other hand still holding the book. His voice dropped to a whisper as he continued reading.
Lydia shut her eyes and pretended to sleep.
She waited.
Eventually, he closed the book and placed it on the table. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead softly, thinking she was asleep. Then he stood up and quietly walked out.
She opened her eyes.
Carefully, she got out of bed, pulled on her warst cloak, and slipped out of her chambers.
The halls were dark. The only sound was the soft tap of her steps and the echo of his boots in the distance.
She followed him, keeping far behind. He didn’t use the main gates, just like the servants had said. Instead, he slipped out through a side entrance near the stables.
She waited in the shadows as he mounted his horse and rode off.
Quickly, she followed. She chose a quiet horse and rode slowly, keeping just far enough behind him.
After what felt like forever, Ivan stopped near an old, quiet farm.
Lydia dismounted and crept close, hiding behind a stone wall.
To her surprise, Ivan wasn’t alone. Nikolai was there, along with a few soldiers she didn’t recognize. They were gathered around a large deer, freshly killed.
The n worked quickly and in silence, cutting the at into clean, neat pieces.
Ivan gave soft instructions. "Wrap them well. Make sure every house has enough."
They placed wrapped bundles of at, coins, and other food into sacks. Then, the soldiers rode out in different directions, disappearing into the dark.
Lydia stood frozen, her eyes wide.
He wasn’t hurting anyone. He was helping them.
This was where he went at night. This was the secret he kept. He was giving to the villagers. Feeding them. Supporting them in silence because they would never accept help from him directly.
Suddenly, Lydia stepped on a dry stick.
Crack.
The sound echoed through the quiet night.
Ivan turned sharply.
His eyes t hers across the dark.
The soldiers stopped what they were doing.
Nikolai looked at Ivan, waiting.
Silence filled the air.
Lydia couldn’t move.
Ivan stared at her, his face unreadable.
And she stood there, cloak wrapped tightly around her, heart pounding, eyes filled with sha.
She had followed him expecting darkness.
Instead, she found light.
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