Chapter 254: Moonlight of Longing

The palace was quiet as the wind moved gently through the night.

The moon shined brightly in the dark sky, its silver light slipping through the large windows of Lydia’s room.

The curtains danced softly with the breeze.

Everything around her looked peaceful.

Calm.

Beautiful.

But Lydia’s heart was anything but calm.

Her room smelt fresh from the bath she had taken earlier.

Her long blonde hair was still damp, falling over her shoulders in soft waves as she sat on the bed with a book resting in her hands.

The candles beside her flickered quietly, lighting up the pages before her.

Yet she had not turned a single page in several minutes.

Her eyes remained on the book, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

On him.

Ivan.

The thought alone made her chest tighten painfully.

She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to force his face from her mind, but it only made things worse.

The memories returned even clearer than before.

The garden.

The way his hands trembled when he touched her.

The fear in his eyes.

The confusion.

The longing.

Lydia slowly lowered the book into her lap as her breathing became uneven.

Why?

Why was he looking at her like that again?

It confused her.

It terrified her.

For a moment in that garden, Ivan had looked exactly like he did years ago in the music room that afternoon.

The same frightened expression.

The same vulnerable eyes.

She remembered it so clearly.

How terrified he looked when he told her about his mother.

How quietly he had asked her to teach him to play the piano.

The way he looked at her in the music room that afternoon, when he was shaking, when he could barely meet her eyes, when he confessed everything like it hurt him to even speak.

That same look was in his eyes again today.

But why now?

Why after everything?

Why after abandoning her?

Lydia pressed her fingers tightly against the book.

Her heart ached so badly she almost hated herself for still remembering those little things about him.

She hated herself even more for caring.

"You’re pathetic," she whispered softly to herself.

But even those harsh words could not stop the memories.

The way his voice softened whenever he said her name.

The way he looked relieved after she said she was fine.

The way his hands hesitated before pulling away from her body.

It felt too familiar.

Too warm.

Too dangerous.

Lydia swallowed hard and forced herself to stare back at the book again, pretending to read.

Pretending her thoughts were not falling apart piece by piece.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not hear the door open.

"Your Highness?"

No response.

Katherine stepped further into the room.

"Your Highness."

Still nothing.

Katherine frowned slightly before calling louder.

"Your Highness."

Lydia suddenly blinked and looked up as if waking from a dream.

Katherine looked at her carefully. "Is everything alright, Your Highness?"

Lydia immediately straightened herself. "I’m fine," she said softly. "I was just reading."

Katherine glanced down at the book in Lydia’s hands.

The book was upside down.

Her expression softened with quiet concern.

Lydia noticed too late and quickly closed the book, placing it beside her.

Katherine sighed gently before walking closer. "Anna told me you were not looking well during tea with the ladies earlier."

Lydia forced a small smile. "It was nothing."

Katherine sat beside her carefully. Her voice became softer, warmer. Almost motherly.

"Are you truly alright, Your Highness?"

That question alone nearly broke her.

Because Katherine could always see through her.

Always.

Lydia looked away quickly. "I’m fine."

But Katherine continued quietly, "You have been putting too much stress on yourself lately."

Lydia remained silent.

Katherine lowered her voice even more.

"Especially because of the baby."

At those words Lydia’s hand instinctively moved slightly toward her stomach before she quickly stopped herself.

Katherine noticed.

Her expression became even gentler.

"You need to slow down," she said softly. "His Highness was worried about you earlier. He met me after tea and asked if you were alright. Your highness, you should take things eas..."

"I told you I’m fine."

Lydia’s voice cut sharply through the room.

Cold.

Katherine immediately fell silent.

Lydia looked away from her, her jaw tightening.

"It was just morning sickness," she said coldly. "Nothing more."

Katherine opened her mouth to speak again but Lydia interrupted before she could.

"And I do not need his concern."

The room became painfully quiet.

Lydia’s breathing shook slightly despite the coldness in her voice.

"He lost the right to worry about me a long time ago."

Katherine looked at her sadly.

"Your highness..."

"I’m exhausted," Lydia said quietly but firmly. "Please leave."

Katherine hesitated.

For a moment it looked like she wanted to say something else. Something comforting perhaps.

But instead she only nodded slowly.

"The preparations for the fundraiser ball are complete," she said softly. "You do not need to worry about anything."

Lydia gave a small nod without looking at her.

Katherine stood up carefully. "Please rest tonight, Your Highness."

Then she quietly left the room.

The door clicked shut behind her.

The moment Lydia was alone again, the cold expression on her face shattered completely.

She grabbed the book beside her and tossed it across the bed angrily.

"Who the hell gave you the right to worry about me?" she whispered bitterly.

Her lips trembled.

"You left me."

Her eyes burned painfully.

She pressed her hand over her mouth quickly as tears threatened to spill.

"No," she whispered shakily. "No..."

She refused.

She refused to cry because of him.

Not again.

Never again.

Lydia quickly laid down on the bed and turned away, burying her face into the pillow as if that alone could stop the pain building inside her chest.

But her body betrayed her.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Then another.

And another.

Soon her breathing became uneven as quiet sobs escaped her throat despite all her efforts to hold them back.

She clutched the blanket tightly in her fists.

Not because of him.

Never because of him.

But her heart did not listen.

No matter how hard she tried, the tears kept pouring endlessly.

Meanwhile outside her door stood Ivan.

His hand rested against the doorknob.

He had come without even realising it himself.

After hearing from Katherine that Lydia was unwell, he found himself walking here before he could stop himself.

Now he stood there silently in the dark hallway.

Frozen.

His hand trembled slightly against the door.

He wanted to enter.

He wanted to ask if she was alright.

He wanted to see her face again even if she looked at him with hatred.

But the memory of her voice earlier stopped him.

Don’t touch me.

The words still cut deeply into him.

Ivan shut his eyes tightly.

Slowly he tried turning the doorknob.

His fingers tightened.

But he could not do it.

He could face battlefields without fear.

He could face blood, death, pain.

But standing before Lydia’s door felt harder than all of them.

Because this time he was the one who caused the pain.

His chest tightened painfully.

He remembered the tears in her eyes earlier in the garden. The way she looked terrified for a moment before hiding it from him.

And still she pushed him away.

She had every right to.

Ivan slowly removed his hand from the door.

For several moments he remained standing there silently.

Then he sighed quietly and stepped away.

His footsteps faded down the hallway.

Inside the room Lydia continued crying softly into the pillow, completely unaware he had been standing just outside her door.

The night grew deeper.

The palace remained quiet beneath the silver moonlight.

But sleep never came to either of them.

Ivan stood alone at the training grounds with a sword in his hand.

Cold air brushed against his skin as sweat ran down his face. His dark hair clung slightly to his forehead from exhaustion.

Yet he did not stop.

The sound of metal echoed sharply through the empty training grounds again and again.

His movements were harsh tonight.

Uncontrolled.

Punishing.

Every strike carried frustration.

Pain.

Regret.

He swung the sword again violently.

Then again.

And again.

His breathing became heavier with each movement.

He did not even know why he was here anymore.

Perhaps because he could not remain in his room.

Perhaps because if he stayed alone with his thoughts any longer he would lose his mind.

Or perhaps this was punishment.

Punishment for every single thing he had done to Lydia.

Ivan stopped suddenly, gripping the sword tightly as he breathed heavily.

Lydia’s face appeared in his mind once more.

Her cold eyes.

Her trembling voice.

The way she pulled away from his touch as though his hands burned her.

He deserved that.

He knew he did.

Yet despite everything, despite the hatred in her eyes, despite the distance between them, one selfish part of him still wanted to stay by her side.

That was what disgusted him most.

Because how could he still want her warmth after hurting her so deeply?

How could he still long for her after abandoning her?

Ivan laughed bitterly under his breath before lowering his head.

He remembered the way she looked in the garden tonight beneath the moonlight.

Beautiful.

Fragile.

And so painfully distant from him now.

His chest hurt.

It hurt so much he could barely breathe.

He tightened his grip on the sword again before swinging violently at the wooden training post in front of him.

The impact echoed loudly through the silent night.

Again.

Again.

Again.

As though hurting himself would somehow quiet the guilt inside him.

But it never did.

Nothing did.

Not the endless training.

Not the sleepless nights.

Not the cold silence inside the palace.

The moon continued shining brightly above the palace that night.

Soft.

Silent.

Almost cruel in its beauty.

It watched over the two lovers as they broke apart quietly in different corners of the palace.

Yearning for each other.

Missing each other.

Hurting because of each other.

And loving each other far more than either of them wanted to admit.