The Bride Of The Devil

Chapter 23: The Stroll With The Devil

The next morning, Ivan was alone in his chambers. The light filtering through the windows was soft, but his mood wasn’t. After a while, he decided to take a walk. He didn’t call for help. He didn’t like people fussing over him. He just needed to move. Despite still being in pain

.

As he stepped into the hallway, the guards straightened and bowed quickly, their eyes full of fear. The maids walking past him held their breath and bowed their heads until he passed. No one dared speak. He said nothing either. He was used to it. The Hate. The Fear. The way they all avoided him.

He walked slowly, his steps heavy. Without much thought, he found himself standing at the door to the library. He pushed it open and stepped inside. It was quiet. Dust floated in the sunbeams. He liked the stillness here.

As he walked between the shelves, his eyes landed on the tall one at the far end. He remembered something—something small, but it lingered. Lydia, standing right there, stretching her arm out, trying to reach something. A map. She had struggled, her fingers barely touching the edge.

He had walked up behind her that day, taken it with ease, and looked at it. Just a plain map of the seas. He had muttered to himself, "What would she even do with this?"

Now, he reached up and took down the same map. He stared at it for a second before placing it back on the top shelf.

That’s when the pain hit.

Sharp. Deep.

He gasped, clutched his side. Blood seeped through his shirt. His vision blurred. His grip on the ladder slipped and he fell.

A heavy thud echoed in the library.

The guard standing at the door rushed in. "Your Highness!" he shouted, running to him.

"Don’t touch me," Ivan growled, trying to push himself up.

The guard panicked. "I’ll get Her Highness!" he said and ran off.

---

Lydia was in her chambers. Two maids were helping her into her gown when the guard burst in, breathless.

"Your Highness! It’s His Highness, the Grand Duke! He’s hurt. The library—"

Lydia didn’t wait to hear more. She pushed past the maids, grabbed her slippers, and ran.

She found him on the floor, blood on his shirt, pale as paper.

"What were you doing?" she whispered, kneeling beside him. "Why were you even up there?"

"Don’t scold me," he muttered, his voice weak.

She ignored him. "Get up, Your Highness. Come on. Slowly. I’ll help."

He winced, but let her wrap an arm around his waist. She was small, but steady. She walked him all the way back to his chambers, step by slow step, whispering soft encouragements.

When they reached his bed, he sank onto it with a heavy sigh. Lydia called for warm water and cloth. The servants brought them, but she waved them out. She didn’t want anyone else touching him.

She cleaned the blood carefully, biting her lip as he winced.

"This must hurt," she whispered more to herself than him.

He said nothing, but he heard her.

When she looked up, he was watching her hands.

"What?" she asked.

He didn’t blink. "They’re small."

She paused. "What did you say?"

He didn’t answer. Just looked away.

---

Hours passed. Ivan lay in bed, stiff and silent. His stomach growled.

A servant brought in a tray of food. Ivan glared at it. "Take it away."

The servant bowed and left.

Later, Lydia came back with a smaller tray. She placed it beside his bed.

"You need to eat, Your Highness."

He didn’t move.

She sat beside him, lifted the spoon. "You’re too weak to hold this. Let me."

He stared at her. "You must be enjoying this."

She smiled faintly. "A little."

She fed him slowly. Quietly. There was no teasing. No mocking. Just soft spoonfuls and small glances.

At one point, their eyes met. Neither looked away for a few seconds. Then she dipped the spoon again.

---

Later, she brought a book and sat in the corner of the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Reading. It helps me relax."

"Be quiet."

She turned a page. "I will. After this Chapter."

Her voice was soft, like the rustling of leaves.

Hours passed. Her head slowly dropped. She dozed off, the book falling to her lap.

Ivan sat up carefully. His body hurt, but not as bad as before. He stood slowly and walked to her.

She stirred. "Your Highness? Do you need something?"

"It’s stuffy."

She blinked. "Let’s go for a walk."

---

Outside, the night was calm. The garden was quiet, empty. She helped him down the steps and into the path.

He didn’t speak. Just walked slowly, each step careful. She stayed beside him, holding his arm.

"The flowers look different at night," she said. "Don’t you think?"

He gave no reply.

"When I was little, I used to sneak out to look at the stars. My maid always caught me, though."

Still, silence.

She continued, "When I was young, I used to go voyaging with my parents to the sea. The night sky here reminds me of the one at sea. Everything is just clear and beautiful."

She laughed softly. "You’re a good listener, Your Highness."

As they turned near the rose bushes, her foot slipped on a stone. She let out a tiny gasp.

Ivan caught her arm fast, holding her steady.

She looked up.

He looked down.

Their eyes locked.

He let go.

---

They sat on a bench, the moonlight soft on their faces. Lydia brushed her hair behind her ear and turned to him.

"Your Highness, may I ask something?"

He sighed. "You already are."

She smiled. "What was your favorite food as a boy?"

He stared at the dark trees ahead. "That’s a stupid question."

She nodded. "Maybe. But I still want to know."

Silence.

Then, after a long pause, he said, "Boiled sweet potatoes."

She blinked. "Really?"

He nodded once.

She smiled wide. "That surprises me."

He looked away. "It surprises me too."

---

She walked him back to his chambers and helped him lie down. She tucked the blanket around him and stood.

"Goodnight, Your Highness."

He didn’t respond.

She turned and left quietly.

Back in her room, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Maybe he’s not a monster, she thought.

---

In his chamber, Ivan stared at the door.

Why isn’t she scared of me? he wondered.