The queen had tasked me to spy on the Grand Duke, Ivan Romanov. So far… this is the only thing I know about him.
Lydia stared at the ceiling, her fingers curling into the blanket. Sleep wouldn't come. Her mind was loud—too loud.
She turned to her side and sighed. "How am I supposed to spy on someone who barely speaks?" she muttered to herself.
Still, she remembered what she'd promised herself. If she ever noticed something about him, anything at all… she'd write it down.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her arms as the night breeze tickled her skin. Then she threw the blanket off and slipped out of bed.
With a quiet flick, she lit the small lamp on her writing table. Its soft golden light filled the room. She pulled open her drawer and brought out her diary—a simple leather-bound book with no name.
Flipping to the first page, her eyes landed on the words she'd written on her first day in the palace.
He killed many at the age of sixteen.
He is cruel.
He is a monster.
