Fifteen Years Ago
Velinsk – The Northern Borderland Between Zolotaria and Venograd
The wind outside howled like a wounded animal as the carriage rolled across the snow-covered path. The wheels creaked under the weight of the frost, and snowflakes clung to the glass like cold little stars. Inside the carriage sat a small boy, no older than nine. His back was straight, his chin raised, but his hands trembled quietly in his lap. It was Ivan.
His face was still and calm, the kind of calm that comes when you're too afraid to cry. His eyes, though, told the truth. They were wide and restless, darting to the window, to the floor, and then back again. He tried to be brave. After all, a prince shouldn't cry. But he was just a child, and he was terrified.
