Vladimir ran quickly to Ivan’s room, his face drawn with worry and concern. As soon as he entered, he found Ivan awake but cold and distant. Ivan tried to leave the bed, pushing himself up weakly, but a sharp pain shot through him, and he was forced to fall back against the pillows, his face tightening.
"I want to sleep," Ivan said, turning his face away. "Leave."
The servants and guards exchanged glances but obeyed. Vladimir stood there for a moment longer, as if wanting to say something, but in the end, he said nothing. With a heavy heart, he turned and left with the others, closing the door behind them.
Meanwhile, back at the Andreyevna house, Lydia sat by her window, staring quietly at the night sky. The stars blinked faintly, blurred by the tears in her eyes. A soft knock came at her door. She turned, surprised. A moment later, she heard the sound of the lock turning. Slowly, the door opened, and Elena stepped inside, carrying a tray.
"I brought your dinner," Elena said in a small voice. She placed the tray on the small table by the bed and turned to her. "I’m sorry... for Father. I tried to talk to him but..." Her voice broke, and she shook her head helplessly. "I’m so sorry, Lydia. I wish I could do something to help you."
Lydia smiled sadly and hugged her tightly. "It’s not your fault, Elena. Don’t cry. It’s okay."
They stayed like that for a moment, two girls bound by helplessness in a house that grew colder each day.
The next morning came slowly.
Ivan was feeling a little better, though his body was still weak and sore. He stood in the king’s throne room, dressed simply, his posture straight despite the pain he was clearly holding back.
"I will be leaving," Ivan said flatly.
King Vladimir frowned deeply. "You can’t leave. You could barely move last night. And we still don’t know who was behind the assassination attempt. It’s not safe. You must stay for days so you get better."
Ivan let out a short, dry laugh. "Stop pretending to care. You don’t care about me. You only care about Zolotoria and your position as the Czar. To you, I’m nothing but a shield to secure your throne."
The king said nothing. His mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to speak, but the words refused to come. His face fell in sadness, but he remained silent.
Without waiting for a reply, Ivan turned and left the throne room. His steps were slow but steady, each movement stiff with pain.
On his way back to his chambers, he ran into Leonid, who had been waiting in the hall with a worried expression.
"Brother... are you okay—" Leonid started, but before he could say more, Ivan coldly brushed past him.
"Don’t touch me," he said sharply, and without sparing another glance, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving Leonid standing there alone, his small hands trembling at his sides.
As soon as Ivan entered his chambers, he found Olga standing by the window, arms crossed. She turned at the sound of the door, her face arranged into a mask of concern.
"I heard you woke up last night," she said in a sweet voice that held no real warmth. "I just came to check if you were okay. Since you are okay I will take my leave."
She turned as if to leave, but Ivan’s voice stopped her.
"To check if I was okay," he repeated slowly, "or to see if I had died?"
Olga froze for a moment, then glanced over her shoulder, her face hardening.
"I know it’s you who arranged the assassination," Ivan said, his voice low.
She smirked coldly. "Can you prove it?" she asked softly. "If you can’t, then shut your mouth, recover quickly, and leave. This is the palace, Grand Duke. You need evidence to accuse someone here."
Without waiting for a reply, she left, the door clicking softly behind her.
Back at the Andreyevna house, Lydia was being bathed by Daria. The water was cold against her skin, and Daria’s hands moved quickly, trying to finish before anyone walked in.
"You shouldn’t worry," Daria said, rinsing Lydia’s hair gently. "Galina went to the market early this morning. I’m sure you must have given her the letter by now. Don’t worry, everything will be alright."
Lydia gave a weak nod, her mind elsewhere.
Not long after, Galina returned, slipping into Lydia’s room with careful steps. She closed the door quietly behind her and came closer, her face twisted in worry.
"I went to the house," Galina said, her voice low. "But... your godmother was not there. They said she travelled to Vetrinka."
Lydia’s heart sank. "Vetrinka?" she repeated, her voice cracking.
Galina nodded. "No one knows when she will be back. So... I left the letter with the head maid."
For a long moment, Lydia sat still, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.
All she could do now was hope — and wait her godmother comes back on time..