Chapter 92: You Didn’t Win
It was the third night since the fight at the mountain pass. The sea air was colder now, crueler. Waves crashed against the rocks with angry force. The sky was still dark, though a faint glow had started to rise in the east. Ivan stood silently near the edge of the cliff, where the path met the sea. He had not moved in hours. His boots were buried in snow. The hood of his coat was pushed back, letting the wind bite his ears and sting his face. He didn’t care.
The cold clung to him like a second skin. His fingers had long since gone numb inside his gloves, but he didn’t move them. Every breath he took hurt his lungs. The salt in the air burned his throat. Still, he didn’t step back. Something inside him felt frozen, but it wasn’t just his body. It was something deeper.
Below him, men from the village were still searching. They moved carefully along the jagged rocks, their torches flickering like small stars. One of them waded waist-deep into the icy shallows, checking for anything the waves might have pushed forward.
Ivan’s arms were crossed tightly against his chest. But it wasn’t the cold that made his jaw tight. It was the wait. The silence. The question that had not left his mind since the moment Ruslan vanished beneath the water.
Was he dead?
He kept going back to the moment—Ruslan slipping, the splash, the silence after. It played in his head over and over, like a punishment.
Beside him, Nikolai walked up quietly. His coat was dusted with snow, and his breath came out in visible puffs.
"My men are still searching," Nikolai said. "One of Ruslan’s men fled, but he was wounded. He couldn’t have gotten far. We’ll find him soon."
Ivan didn’t answer.
Nikolai paused, then added, "Your Highness, you should leave. Let us handle it from here. We’ll bring you his body as soon as we find it."
Ivan slowly turned his head toward him. His eyes were empty, almost hollow.
"No," he said. "I won’t leave. Not until I see him. Not until I know. I’ll drain this entire sea if I have to."