Chapter 111: Chapter 111

Ivan stirred gently under the soft warmth of the covers. The morning sun had painted golden lines on the stone floor, and the cold wind hummed against the windowpanes. He turned to the other side of the bed, expecting to see Lydia beside him, but the space was empty. The covers were folded back. His heart dropped for a moment.

He sat up quickly, eyes scanning the room. Fear gripped him. It was quiet, too quiet. His chest tightened.

His mind raced, going straight to the worst. Had she changed her mind? Had she finally seen him the way everyone else did? Had she slipped away in the early morning, without a sound, without a goodbye?

Just then, the door opened softly. He turned sharply toward it.

Lydia walked in, smiling, her hair loose over her shoulders. "Good morning, Ivan," she said softly.

Relief flooded his face. It was like the air returned to his lungs.

He stood and walked to her, not hiding the tremble in his hands. "When I woke up and didn’t see you, I was scared. I thought you had left."

His voice cracked a little as he said it. His eyes searched hers, almost begging her to say she wasn’t going anywhere. That she hadn’t changed her mind. That she still belonged to him, even just for today.

She reached for him and pulled him into a hug. "I only went to check the ballroom. The decorations, the lights, everything... it’s beautiful, Ivan."

He exhaled slowly, hugging her tighter. "Do you really think so?"

She nodded, her voice soft. "Hmm. I love it. You did a great job. I’m proud of you."

Ivan smiled, burying his face into her hair. But Lydia’s smile was weak. Her fingers trembled as they clung to his shirt. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the fear from clawing inside her. The fear of Ruslan. The fear of tonight. The fear of losing Ivan forever.

She held him like it was the last time. And in her heart, she wondered if it would be.

Ivan, too, held her tightly. For some reason, a strange weight pressed on his chest. Like something was coming. Something he couldn’t explain.

"I don’t want to let go," he whispered.

"I know," she whispered back, her voice almost broken.

Her fingers curled tighter into his back. She wished they could stay forever. Just the two of them, in this quiet room, away from the noise, away from the eyes, away from the war of their lives. But they couldn’t. Not tonight.

She wanted to tell him everything—about the ache in her chest, about the fear that clung to her like a second skin. But her lips wouldn’t move. Her heart couldn’t speak.

And he—he was drowning in his own silence. He didn’t dare tell her how much he still feared she’d slip from his life like a dream fading with the dawn.

A knock broke the moment. Lydia’s maids entered quietly. "Your Highness, it is time to prepare."

At the same time, the head guard arrived. "Your Grace, I need to discuss the security for tonight."

Ivan pulled back and looked at her. "I have to go."

She nodded. "It’s alright."

But her smile faded the moment he turned his back. Her eyes stayed on him until the door closed. And even after that, she stood frozen for a long while, her arms hanging at her sides, cold and empty.

She whispered to no one, "Just come back to me..."

As Ivan made his way down the halls, his eyes caught a familiar figure. Olga.

They didn’t speak. They only shared a long, cold stare.

It said everything and nothing all at once.

Hours passed. The sky slowly shifted from blue to a warm golden hue as evening crept in. Guests began arriving at the palace gates. One by one, nobles dressed in silks and furs stepped out of shining carriages, their faces painted with grace and fear. Everyone was nervous.

Whispers followed them as they entered. Murmurs of Ivan. Of Lydia. Of the royal family falling apart and rebuilding at the same time.

But the moment they entered the ballroom, that fear began to melt.

The room looked like something from a fairytale.

Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, shaped like snowflakes, glowing softly with candlelight. White roses lined the grand stairs, and strings of crystals hung like icicles from above. The floor was polished to a shine, almost like ice itself. The room was bathed in soft blues and silvers. It looked like winter had kissed every corner of the palace.

It didn’t feel like the devil’s lair. It felt like heaven.

Gasps echoed softly as guests looked around, their eyes wide, mouths parting in surprise. Some even forgot to remove their cloaks. The magic of the room caught them so off guard, they stood frozen under its spell.

The tables were filled with foods that could tempt even the most nervous soul. Golden roasted duck, salmon in cream sauces, sweet beet salads, bowls of buttered cabbage, and mushroom dumplings. Rich pirozhki pastries stuffed with meat and potatoes. Caviar served on soft bread. For dessert, there were honey cakes, baked apples in cinnamon, and large slices of chocolate torte. The drinks sparkled: spiced mulled wine, chilled kvass, sweet fruit brandies.

Laughter slowly returned to the palace. Even the most afraid guests slowly smiled, forgetting the tension.

Among the guests were the Andreyevna family. Alexander, dressed in a dark coat, stepped down from the carriage. He looked unimpressed. Elena and Anya followed, both glowing in their gowns. Mikhail and Pyotr came after.

As they walked forward, Alexander leaned in and whispered to his daughters, "Make sure to look your best tonight. There are many good suitors. Do not waste this chance."

His voice was sharp, but quiet. It wasn’t advice. It was an order. His daughters didn’t reply, only nodded, their expressions unreadable.

The sun dipped lower, and night fell. The ball officially began.

A royal announcer stepped forward. His voice echoed in the grand room. "Presenting, his Royal Highness, Prince Leonid Romanov."

Leonid entered in a pure white coat, his posture proud, chin held high.

"Her Majesty, Queen Olga Volkova."

Olga descended slowly. Her sky blue gown shimmered like frozen silk, crystal stones glittered as she walked. Her hair was pulled into an elegant chignon, crowned with silver and diamonds. Her gloves matched her dress, and her heels clicked softly on the marble.

The room stared, breathless.

She smiled proudly. This was her night. The night she always owned. The Ember Lights Ball. Her moment to show that she was the queen. The most powerful woman in the kingdom.

Outside the ballroom, Ivan stood by the entrance.

Vladimir stood beside him.

"I don’t know why you insisted we move the ball here," Ivan said coldly.

Vladimir looked ahead. "Since I did what you asked, I’ll leave by tomorrow."

Vladimir added, "You did a good job. Just as I expected."

Before Ivan could reply, the announcer’s voice called, "His Majesty, Czar Vladimir Romanov."

Vladimir stepped into the ballroom.

Ivan watched him leave, confused. Did he really move the ball just to let Ivan prove himself?

He shook his head and turned, but Lydia wasn’t there.

He wanted to go and find her, but then he heard, "His Grace, the Grand Duke of Zolotaria, Ivan Romanov."

He took a deep breath and walked in.

The room went silent.

All eyes turned to him. There was fear. But not the kind they expected. Ivan didn’t look like a devil. He didn’t look like a monster. He looked radiant. Calm. Strong.

He wore a royal blue coat with gold embroidery. His dark hair was brushed back. His presence filled the room. But he didn’t care about the stares. He cared about one thing. Lydia.

"The Grand Duchess of Zolotaria, Lydia Andreyevna."

Ivan’s heart sank. He took a step forward, ready to find her, when the door slowly opened.

Lydia walked out gracefully. Time stopped.

Her gown was white as snow, lined with tiny shining stones that sparkled under the lights. Her gloves were soft and elegant. Her golden curls were styled down her back. Around her neck was a simple diamond necklace.

She looked like a dream.

Ivan’s heart skipped. He stepped forward, his eyes never leaving her. She smiled gently at him, and his chest filled with something warm.

He walked up the stairs and held out his hand. She took it.

They descended together, the ballroom watching in awe.

Meanwhile, just outside the ballroom, hidden in the shadows, Ruslan stood.

He watched them from a distance.

A bitter smile grew on his lips.

He clutched the small bag on his side. The one that carried rope and sedatives.

His eyes burned with hate.

He watched Ivan and Lydia walk together.