Lydia was seated in the carriage as it rode back to the palace. Tears kept falling from her eyes. They wouldn't stop, no matter how tightly she shut them. Her fingers gripped the edge of the seat. Her breathing was shaky. Her chest rose and fell like something was breaking apart inside her.
But worse than the tears was her mind. It kept returning to Irina's voice—quiet, steady, and full of terrifying truth. Again and again, those words echoed in her head.
"You need to understand something, Lydia," Irina had said. "Whether you act or stay silent… someone is going to bleed for it."
Lydia had looked at her, trembling. Irina's eyes hadn't flinched.
"You can betray Olga," she continued, her voice like a knife, "and risk her wrath—because that woman does not forget, and she does not forgive."
She paused. Her tone shifted slightly, gentler but still sharp.
