Chapter 89: The Devil Doesn’t Play Fair
It was still dark when Ivan opened his eyes. The sky outside the window had softened to a deep blue, hinting that dawn wasn’t far away. He blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. Lydia lay beside him, wrapped in the sheets, her face calm and beautiful in sleep. Her arm rested across his chest, her fingers curled loosely near his heart. Her skin was warm against his, her breath brushing lightly over his collarbone.
For a long moment, Ivan didn’t move. He just stared at her. Her lashes fluttered slightly, and her lips parted in soft, steady breaths. She looked peaceful. Innocent. Like nothing in the world could ever harm her. The way her hair spilled over the pillow reminded him of all the quiet moments they rarely got to have—moments that always seemed borrowed from a life that wasn’t theirs to keep.
But Ivan knew better. The world wasn’t kind. Especially not to people like them.
Carefully, he shifted from under her arm. Lydia stirred a little but didn’t wake. She murmured something too soft to understand, pressing her face deeper into the pillow. He sat at the edge of the bed, taking one last look at her. A strange pain squeezed his chest. Quietly, he leaned over, pulled the blanket gently up to her shoulder, and kissed her forehead. His lips lingered there for a second longer than they should have.
"Forgive me," he whispered. Then he stood and left the room without a sound.
The hallway outside was dark and quiet, the soft creak of the wooden floor echoing faintly as he walked. Each step felt heavier than the last. There was a strange finality in the silence. It wrapped around him like a cold cloak.
He reached his chambers and stepped inside. The fire had gone out, and the room was cold. His breath misted in the air as he crossed to the washbasin. He moved quickly—he didn’t want to give himself too much time to think. He took a fast bath in icy water that jolted him awake, dressed in thick clothes lined with fur, and strapped his sword to his side.
When he glanced at the mirror, he barely recognized himself. The man staring back at him looked older. Harder. But determined.
By the time he reached his study, the first hints of light were peeking through the sky. The two servants — the ones pretending to be him and Lydia — were already there. They stood straight, wearing cloaks and clothing that resembled his and Lydia’s. The resemblance was strong. Not perfect, but enough. The girl was fiddling with her gloves, too nervous to meet his gaze.
A palace guard stepped in quietly and spoke in a low voice. "Everything is ready for your trip to Novostav, Your Highness."
The maid pretending to be Lydia glanced over curiously. She had been eavesdropping, clearly nervous.