Chapter 22

“The palace physicians did everything they could before leaving.”  

Lev pressed his lips together tightly. Olga Ryabova’s calm voice continued.  

“Tonight will likely be the critical point.”  

“I see.”  

Lev replied just as calmly.  

“I’ll stay here.”  

Olga and Anton both nodded. They were thinking the same thing: the King was here to witness the Queen’s death and finally finish ten years of revenge.  

So, the two quietly withdrew. It was late, and Nadia’s breathing was faint. In the dark room, only a single candle flickered unsteadily, as if it might go out at any moment—just like Nadia’s life.  

Lev quietly watched Nadia. The bandages wrapped around her thin body looked almost absurdly out of place.  

He remembered clearly the blue blade piercing that delicate chest, the bright red blood that had flowed.  

So it wouldn’t be strange if she died now. In fact, it was surprising she hadn’t died right away, considering how frail she was.  

“Foolish.”  

Lev judged coldly. If she couldn’t avoid it, why did she throw herself into danger? As if she was desperate to die.  

He clicked his tongue. Why had she done it? Was she trying to overturn her miserable situation with a gamble on her life?  

If she wanted to secure her position, she should have just come to him when he tried to seduce her. Did she need something even more certain?  

He thought about it for a moment, then stopped. All that mattered was that this unexpected situation was bothersome and irritating.  

If she died like this…  

Lev thought deeply. He had never imagined Nadia would die before him.  

If he’d wanted to see her die, he would have killed her during the coup. Nadia Turik’s death was always supposed to happen after his own.  

He’d planned to leave her fate to Albina and his close aides.  

If Nadia was gone, it would be like taking a log off the fire of his life, which was already burning low. He still believed that nothing fueled a person’s life like anger.  

So live. Make me live even one more day out of spite. After that, do what you want—it’s not my concern.  

Muttering coldly, Lev stared intently at the pale woman’s face. Maybe she heard his curse filled with hatred, as her brow furrowed.  

Gradually, she began to m*an in pain.  

Lev removed the wet cloth from Nadia’s forehead and laid his hand there instead. The woman looked as pale as a corpse, but her burning temperature proved she was alive.  

His large hand should have felt cool, but Nadia kept moaning. The words were unclear, but if he listened closely, he could make out “forgive,” “sorry,” those cliché phrases. Lev sneered.  

What kind of dream was she having? Was he in it? No matter how he thought about it, he was the only one Nadia Turik would ask for forgiveness. But at the next word, Lev’s expression vanished.  

“It hurts…”  

At least he’d never made her say that. Was she dreaming of the moment she was stabbed?  

Lev frowned but did nothing more. He simply kept watch by her side. Eventually, her moaning faded, though her grimace remained.  

Even after the room quieted, Lev kept his hand on her forehead, never looking away, as if constantly checking for signs of life in her warmth and furrowed brow.

***

Nadia “Turik” liked rain when she was a child. She liked the feeling of rain slowly soaking her from head to toe.  

She liked splashing in puddles, even the tension of being careful not to dirty her dress.  

That day, it rained heavily. Nadia hesitated for a moment, seeing the violent downpour.  

But she decided to go outside and was about to step through the gate when—  

“Nadia Turik.”  

A slurred voice called from behind. Nadia turned. Her father stood there, face flushed, holding a bottle of alcohol. It was a familiar sight lately.  

“Father, drinking so much isn’t good for you.”  

Nadia spoke out of genuine concern, thinking he would say, “My good girl, worrying about her father’s health,” and embrace her kindly.  

But he didn’t. Instead, he stared at Nadia, already dressed to go outside. The silence made Nadia uneasy, though she didn’t know why.  

“Where are you going?”  

“Lady Nadia likes to play in the rain,” the maid answered instead. It was a harmless, safe reply. But it seemed to greatly upset Earl Turik.  

His face turned red and blue in an instant. Then he threw the bottle hard at the floor.  

Crash! The sound of shattering glass pierced her ears. Startled, Nadia shrank back.  

“Just like your mother…”  

Earl Turik, eyes wild, came toward Nadia. She looked at her father with a face she didn’t recognize.  

Run.  

Her instincts said so. Her reason immediately argued back.  

Daddy loves me.  

Unusually for a child, reason was stronger for Nadia. But even if instinct won, nothing would change. No matter how hard a small fish tries to escape, it will be caught in a small tank.  

A large hand stretched out like a net, reaching for Nadia’s long hair.  

“…Ah!”  

Nadia woke with a short gasp. Instead of a palm, she saw the empty ceiling above. Nadia breathed slowly, dazed.  

Her heart pounded so fast it hurt. With trembling eyes, she looked down. Her chest was wrapped several times with white bandages.  

‘Was I ever stabbed in the chest?’ 

As she recalled the past, Nadia was startled. A man suddenly appeared in her view. Her eyes grew as wide as they could.  

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  

The King remarked in a flat voice. Nadia realized, at his voice, that this was reality.  

A long sigh escaped her lips.  

As her mind cleared, her last memory returned. Nadia was startled again. She was alive.  

“I’m not dead.”  

Thank goodness. Is it? 

Nadia hesitated for a moment.  

“Did you want to die?”  

The King looked incredulous. That reaction cut off her hesitation. Nadia quickly clarified.  

“The knife went for my heart.”  

“You’re mistaken. It missed your heart.”  

“Ah… I see.”  

Nadia fell silent for a moment, then asked,  

“What time is it…?”  

“Morning. Two days have passed.”  

He seemed about to say more, but stopped. Nadia was curious but didn’t ask. She actually had another question.  

“Then, Your Majesty, why are you here…?”  

The King looked briefly surprised, as if he hadn’t expected that question. But Nadia was genuinely curious. Was he here to see if she’d die? She was about to ask when—  

“If I’d never come here, what rumors would start?”  

“Ah.”  

Nadia nodded in understanding, but the King looked oddly dissatisfied.  

“Is the King of Murk safe?”  

The King’s face turned incredulous at Nadia’s question.  

“You ask that as soon as you wake up?”  

“Well, it’s an important issue.”  

“Ah, more than your own life.”  

He kept mocking her. Nadia explained, embarrassed,  

“I’m all right, so…”  

“Looking like that?”  

Lev pointed directly at Nadia’s chest. Embarrassed, she quickly pulled the blanket up to cover herself. Lev let out a dry laugh.  

“He’s perfectly fine. Thanks to someone throwing themselves in the way.”  

“That’s a relief.”  

“Yes, it is. We almost had a war.”  

After a brief silence, Lev asked,  

“Why did you do it?”  

“You just answered that yourself, Your Majesty.”  

The King’s face turned very strange, as if he’d heard something completely unexpected.  

“You worry about things like that?”  

‘You, of all people? Or, can you think that far ahead?’ His silence seemed to contain those questions.  

Nadia gave an answer that would work either way.  

“I am the Queen of Arbat, after all.”  

The King’s face grew strange again, as if he’d heard something absurd.  

Once again, Nadia felt bitter, realizing she had never, not even for a moment, been a true Queen to him.