Chapter 101: The Devil’s Tears
Lydia rode back to the palace in her carriage, her heart and mind in chaos. Her eyes stared blankly out the window, but she wasn’t really seeing the snow-covered trees or the distant rooftops. All she could see was his face—Ruslan. Standing there. Alive.
She clutched the edge of her cloak tightly in her fists, her knuckles pale from how hard she was squeezing. Her whole body trembled as the cold from outside crept into her bones—not from the weather, but from fear. Her stomach churned. Her thoughts ran wild. How could this be real?
Every breath she took felt sharp, as if her lungs had turned to glass. Her heart thudded so loudly it hurt her ears.
Katherine, who was seated beside her, noticed her pale face and shaking hands. She asked gently, "Are you okay, Your Highness?"
Lydia didn’t answer. She just gave a small nod, even though everything inside her was screaming. Her skin still crawled. Her body felt tense like a string pulled too tight. Her breathing was shallow. Her eyes kept blinking fast as if trying to unsee what she had seen.
Her thoughts spiraled. It didn’t make sense. Ruslan was dead. Ivan had buried him. She didn’t see the body, but Nikolai told her. She remembered the grave. The funeral. The way people whispered. So what did she see today? A ghost? A vision? Or was it real?
If it was real, then who did Ivan bury?
Her chest ached with fear and confusion. She wanted to cry but couldn’t. The tears refused to fall. Her body shook, her hands cold as ice, but she stayed quiet throughout the entire ride.
As the palace gates came into view, her heart pounded harder. There was no peace waiting for her there. Only more questions.
When the carriage finally reached the palace, Lydia didn’t wait for the guards or Katherine. She stepped down and walked quickly up the stairs. Her heart thumped painfully with every step. Her breath hitched as she passed the grand pillars and the heavy wooden doors.
She didn’t even notice how cold the air had become. The snow had started again, soft flakes brushing her shoulders like ghosts reaching out. But she didn’t stop.
She didn’t stop until she reached Ivan’s chambers. But just as she got to the top of the staircase, Katherine caught up with her.
"You’re going to His Highness’s chambers, aren’t you?" Katherine asked softly.
Lydia nodded.
"Don’t worry," Katherine said. "He’ll come out. Just give him some time."
Lydia turned to look at her, eyes filled with frustration. Her voice cracked with the weight of emotion. "Why do you all keep telling me not to worry? You say he’ll come out, but none of you ask if he’s hurting. Ivan is in pain, and I just want to be with him."
Her voice echoed faintly in the hall.
Katherine didn’t answer. She turned to leave.
But Lydia stopped her. "Why did you do it?"
Katherine turned slowly. "Your Highness?"
"I heard you were kind to him when he was a child. So why did you betray him? Why did you hurt him?"
Katherine’s eyes lowered. Her voice was quiet, almost trembling. "Not everything you see is the truth, Your Highness."
And with that, she walked away. Lydia stood there watching her, sensing the sorrow in Katherine’s eyes.
She turned back and walked to Ivan’s door. As expected, it was locked.
She knocked once. No response.
She knocked again, tears now falling from her eyes. Panic rising.
"Ivan, please... please open the door. I just want to see you. I want to know you’re okay. Please," she begged.
Still nothing.
More thoughts began to fill her head—dark thoughts. What if he had hurt himself? What if he was lying in there, bleeding? Or unconscious? Her nails dug into the door, her breath quickening. "Please... Ivan..."
She knelt down and wept, her voice broken and soft. "I’m scared. I just want to be with you."
Then... the lock turned.
She quickly stood up and pushed the door open.
The room was quiet and dark, lit only by the orange glow of the setting sun. Shadows crawled along the walls like heavy memories. It looked empty at first—until she saw him, sitting at the back of the door. He was on the floor, jars of wine scattered beside him. His legs stretched out, his body limp. He looked up slowly, his eyes glassy and red.
He had been drinking for hours.
Lydia rushed to him and bent down. He didn’t say anything. He just tried to lift another jar to his lips, but she gently stopped him and cupped his face.
"Ivan," she whispered. "It’s okay. I’m here."
A tear slipped down his cheek.
He dropped the jar and leaned into her arms, sobbing. His chest shook against her, every breath ragged and heavy.
"I can’t close my eyes. I can’t even breathe. I keep hearing them. The screams. I see them... the blood. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to kill them. I had no choice. But now... I regret it."
Lydia held him tightly, letting him cry in her arms. She stroked his hair, held his head to her chest, whispering nothing, just being there—being still and soft, because he needed it.
---
In her room, Katherine sat still on her bed, her hand on her leg, feeling the scar Ivan had once left when he had attacked her. Her mind went back to when he was only four. Locked in a cold, dark room. Crying. She had brought him desserts once. He had looked at her like she was the only light in his world. She sobbed, saying to herself, "I’m sorry, Your Highness. I failed you. I’m so sorry."
---
Back in Ivan’s room, the sun had fully set. The room was now bathed in shadows. Lydia and Ivan sat side by side on the floor. His breath was heavy. His head resting on the wall.
He spoke slowly, his words slurred but clear enough to understand.
"I never wanted to hurt anyone... But I couldn’t take it anymore. From the moment I came to the palace, my stepmother hated me. She stopped locking me up when I was eight, but she never stopped punishing me. She ignored me, spat hateful things. I thought it was over. But then... my grandfather died. My father became the Czar. And I... I became Grand Duke.
"That’s when it got worse. I stayed here in Svetlana while they moved to the capital. She saw me as a threat. She had no heir. And my father hates her. They barely speak. She decided if he wouldn’t give her a child, I had to die.
"She sent assassins... one disguised as a servant. I survived. My father knew... but he did nothing.
"Then she poisoned me. She had Katherine put it in my food. I barely lived. No one did anything. My father didn’t even speak about it. I was alone.
"People whispered. The guards, the servants. They all laughed, gossiped. They said I should’ve died. That no one wanted me. That I was a demon. They said it right in front of me. I was scared to eat, scared to breathe.
"And then... just five days later, it was the Emberlight Ball. They all celebrated like nothing happened. Like I wasn’t almost killed. That night... I snapped.
"I killed all of them. Every single one."
Lydia was shaking, her hands covering her mouth.
She whispered, "Oh Ivan..."
He looked broken. Tears ran down his cheeks.
She wrapped her arms around him again, holding him as tightly as she could.
She knew now. The boy who had been feared and hated had been a lonely child surrounded by cruelty. He was never the monster. They were.
And now was the time to tell him her truth too.
She held his face and said softly, "I’m sorry, Ivan. There’s something I need to tell you. I didn’t want to... but I made a deal with the queen. She promised me freedom in return for spying on you. She wanted to know your weaknesses."
Ivan blinked slowly.
"But I swear to you," Lydia cried. "I never did it. I never told her anything. I love you, Ivan. I love you so much. I will never hurt you. Never."
Ivan looked at her, the pain in his eyes now mixed with something softer.
He leaned forward and kissed her gently.
The kiss started tender. Their lips barely touched, like a question passed between them. She felt the warmth of his breath mix with hers, slow and uncertain. Her eyes fluttered shut as her hands moved up to his cheeks, gently holding him like something fragile.
Then the kiss deepened, like a sigh finally released. It wasn’t rushed or hungry—it was slow, achingly soft, as if time itself had slowed down just for them. Her lips brushed his again and again, like she was memorizing the shape of his mouth, like she was trying to tell him everything her voice couldn’t say.
The pain in both their hearts poured into it.
Her fingers slid into his hair, and he exhaled shakily against her lips. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, not forcefully, but like someone drowning finally reaching the shore.
They kissed slowly, desperately, like they were both holding onto air. Like if they stopped, everything would collapse.
The kiss tasted like sadness, truth, and longing.
And Lydia kissed him back, crying softly into his mouth.