Lydia rode back to the palace in her carriage, her heart and mind in chaos. Her eyes stared blankly out the window, but she wasn't really seeing the snow-covered trees or the distant rooftops. All she could see was his face—Ruslan. Standing there. Alive.
She clutched the edge of her cloak tightly in her fists, her knuckles pale from how hard she was squeezing. Her whole body trembled as the cold from outside crept into her bones—not from the weather, but from fear. Her stomach churned. Her thoughts ran wild. How could this be real?
Every breath she took felt sharp, as if her lungs had turned to glass. Her heart thudded so loudly it hurt her ears.
Katherine, who was seated beside her, noticed her pale face and shaking hands. She asked gently, "Are you okay, Your Highness?"
