Chapter 108: Chapter 108

The sun began to rise. The sky was still pale and soft, with only a little light spilling into the room. It was not fully morning yet, but it was brighter than before. Snow outside glowed faintly in the dawn.

Lydia lay fast asleep in bed. Her breath was calm and slow. Beside her, Ivan stirred. He opened his eyes slowly. He looked peaceful. He watched her for a long moment. Her hair was spread on the pillow. Her face was relaxed in sleep. He reached out gently and began playing with her hair, turning a few strands around his finger. He smiled to himself.

Lydia’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked slowly. Then she saw him. She smiled a little, soft and sleepy.

"Good morning," Ivan whispered.

"Good morning," Lydia replied, her voice gentle.

He chuckled softly. She noticed and sat up a little.

"What is it?" she asked, curious.

"It is nothing," he said, still chuckling.

"If it is nothing, then why are you laughing?" she asked, smiling now.

"It is because..." he paused, still amused, "you were drooling in your sleep."

She wiped her lips with her hand, embarrassed. "That is not true," she said, softly.

"It is true," he said with a playful smile.

Lydia threw a small pillow at him. "That is not true," she repeated.

Ivan teased, "But you also snore."

She laughed and threw another pillow. This one hit him squarely in the chest. He pretended to gasp in pain.

"Oh!" he said dramatically. Lydia immediately jumped up, startled.

"I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!" she burst out, anxious.

Ivan stood up and hugged her tightly. "I am just joking," he whispered, his arms wrapping around her.

They both smiled at each other, warm and happy. But magic of the morning softened into seriousness. Ivan sat back on the bed. Lydia joined him, sitting next to him.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked gently.

He took a breath. "Not exactly wrong," he said. "It is just that this morning I realized we barely know each other. We know the terrible things—our fear, our sorrow, our pain. But I want to know more. I want to know the small things too."

Lydia’s eyes brightened. "Me too," she said. "We should start with small things. Like favorites."

They began this quiet game of becoming more real for each other.

"My favorite food," Lydia said quietly, "is borscht with sour cream and dark rye bread." She smiled as she said it, warming at the memory.

Ivan nodded. "Mine is dumpling soup with boiled potatoes. Simple, but it reminds me of home."

He asked softly, "Favorite fruit?"

"Apples," Lydia replied. Ivan laughed softly.

"That was obvious," he teased gently.

"What about you?" Lydia asked.

"I like peaches," he said with a smile.

They both laughed together. Then he asked about pastries.

Lydia thought before answering. "I like khrustyky—or honey‑soft honey cake. I love both so much, I could eat them all day."

Ivan smiled and said, "I like chocolate cake. I love the sweetness, rich and soft."

They continued, smiling softly.

Lydia said simply, "Blue."

Ivan looked at her. "Why?"

She looked at the window. "Blue reminds me of the sea... of my parents. And... it makes me feel calm. And besides... you know... blue matches my eyes. And many people tell me that, I look prettier in blue."

He chuckled softly. "It’s true. You look very beautiful in blue."

Then he asked about his favorite color.

He answered softly, "White."

"Why white?" she asked.

He pointed out the window to the snow‑covered yard. "When things were hard during my time in Velinsk, I used to look at the land: everything was white. Snow on the trees, white fields... silent. Peaceful. I felt safe looking at that white world. I felt less alone, less sad."

Lydia turned toward him. She saw moisture in her eyes. She was about to cry. He noticed.

"Why are you sad?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "I am not sad. I am just happy."

He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ears gently. "If you wear white tomorrow night at the ball, I won’t feel so lonely," he teased with a small smile.

"I will wear white," she said softly with certainty.

He smiled and pulled her close. "With you around, I will never feel lonely. You are my home, Lydia."

She looked at him and placed her hands on his cheeks. "Me too, Ivan," she said, voice trembling with feeling.

She kissed his cheek. He kissed her hands softly. Then he leaned in and kissed her lips. The kiss was slow, tender, sweet.

They moved closer, hands brushing against skin softly. Ivan’s fingers traced the line of her collarbone. Lydia’s breath deepened. They lay together, warm in each other’s arms, the morning light turning gentle gold around them.

Ivan kissed her neck softly. His lips were warm. Lydia’s heart fluttered. She closed her eyes, feeling his breath against her skin. He moved his hands slowly, softly, caressing her shoulders and the softness of her back. She felt safe and cherished.

Lydia’s hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. She traced gentle lines on his skin. The warmth between them grew. Neither spoke. The room was still, filled only with soft breaths and the feeling of closeness.

Ivan slid his hand up to brush her hair behind her ear. He whispered her name softly. She opened her eyes. They looked at each other. Time slowed.

He kissed her again—this time longer, softer. Lydia responded, her lips gentle against his. She moved closer. Their hands touched tender places. He traced her curves with tenderness, never hurrying. She shivered gently with each soft touch. They were discovering each other quietly, without rush or fear.

Their breathing became deeper. They held each other close, feeling each breath, each soft movement, each gentle sigh. The world outside ceased to exist. Only warmth, only love.

Ivan let his hands rest on her waist. Lydia’s arms circled around his shoulders. They kissed again—deeply, softly. There was no shame, only trust. No rush, only presence. Every touch was full of care.

They felt connected completely. Bound by tenderness.

Then they lay still, holding each other. Foreheads touching, their breaths matching. A quiet morning began around them. Their bodies calm, hearts full.

They stayed like that until morning light filled the room. Now it was full morning. They were tangled together in soft sheets. His hands traced gentle circles on her skin. He pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"We have to get dressed, Lydia," he said softly.

Lydia nodded, giving him a sleepy smile. "My maids will be here soon."

They both laughed softly and began dressing.

Lydia said quietly, "I wish we could spend the whole day together."

Ivan smiled softly. "I wish so too... but we will be busy preparing for the ball tomorrow."

Just then a knock came at the door.

Her maids had arrived.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "See you later," he whispered.

They parted gently. Lydia closed the door behind her maids.

The day moved forward. Lydia bathed, dressed, and attended meetings with her ladies‑in‑waiting. Ivan worked alongside her, arranging flowers, choosing fabrics, speaking with the palace staff. They laughed softly now and then. They walked side by side through the halls. Their hands brushed. Their smiles shared. Though tired, they both felt warmth beneath it.

The sun dipped low by the time they finished. It was almost sundown. They had worked through the day for the ball: the decorations, the music plans, the invitations. Everything nearly ready.

Lydia was about to take her bath for the night. She was weary. Then a maid entered quietly. In her hand was a sealed letter.

The guard had found it by the gate, the maid said. Lydia’s heart beat fast. She took the letter. It was sealed with red wax. She opened it.

Her hands trembled as she began to read.

Written in dark red letters that looked like blood were cruel words:

You remember our promise that unfortunate day in your parents’ ship. I’ll be coming for you tonight dear grand duchess.

She froze. She fell to her knees. The letter dropped from her trembling hands. She could not breathe. Her vision blurred. She collapsed to the ground.

Her maid knelt beside her, asking urgently, "Are you all right, Your Grace?"

Lydia could not speak. She felt cold fear spread through her veins.

Outside the palace gates, Ruslan stood hidden in the pale dusk. He held another sealed note in his hand. A twisted smile curled on his lips.

Tonight he would come for Lydia. Tonight he would strike. And tomorrow night? Then he would have his revenge on Prince Ivan.

He whispered into the wind, "By tomorrow night... you will pay."

The day shifted from warm love to dark fear in an instant.