Ivan sat alone in his study, the fire in the hearth crackling quietly, but its warmth couldn't reach the cold sinking into his chest.
His elbows rested on the desk, fingers rubbing slow circles against his temples. The candlelight flickered softly above the untouched parchment in front of him.
He had been thinking for hours. Turning the same thought over and over again.
How do I stop him?
He couldn't leave. Not now. Ruslan was close — too close. He could be hiding anywhere, watching anyone. A messenger wouldn't make it two steps out of the palace without being caught and killed. Ruslan had too many eyes. Too many hands.
He glanced at the window, then the small birdcage in the corner. A faint idea sparked in his mind.
Ruslan was a good shot. One of the best.
But he wasn't perfect.
Ivan stood from his desk slowly and walked to the cage. There were five birds — strong ones. Trained. He opened the door gently and stroked one of them with care.
