The Bride Of The Devil-Chapter 87: The Chase

It was dawn.

The sky was still a pale gray, and the wind carried the sharp bite of morning frost. Ruslan stood in the shadows of the trees, his eyes fixed on the palace gates in the distance. His arms were crossed, cloak wrapped tightly around him. His breath came out in puffs of mist.

Then, movement.

The palace gates opened.

A carriage rolled out, flanked by armed guards on horseback. The royal crest glinted faintly on the side. Several servants followed behind on foot and horseback, carrying supplies. It looked urgent, like an escape.

Ruslan leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.

"So," he muttered. "Where are you running to, Your Highness?"

He watched until the carriage passed the bend in the snowy road, guards keeping a tight circle around it.

Then he turned to the man beside him. "Anatoly."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Follow them. Quietly. Don’t get too close. Just ask around. Find out where they’re headed. Be someone else. Anyone. A merchant. A traveler. I don’t care."

Anatoly nodded. "Understood."

"And if it’s what I think..." Ruslan’s voice turned cold, "...gather the men."

Anatoly left immediately, disappearing down the path.

Ruslan stayed behind, staring at the road long after the carriage had vanished.

He didn’t believe they were going to the capital.

No.

Something about this smelled off.

---

Anatoly rode hard, catching up fast. The carriage was already far ahead, but not too far to track. It moved like it was fleeing something. Fast, guarded, and not subtle.

He stopped at a nearby post station, got down, and wiped the sweat from his face.

He walked toward the guards near the path and gave them a tired smile.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice thick with a fake accent. "I am... new. Just arrived. Can you help? There was a carriage that passed here a short time ago. Very fast. Royal, I think?"

One of the palace guards looked up, uninterested. "Yeah. Passed not long ago."

"Who was in it?"

The guard shrugged. "The Grand Duke. And his wife. Headed for the capital. Big escort too. Guards, servants... looked serious."

"The capital?" Anatoly asked, as if confused.

"Yes," the guard muttered. Then under his breath, he added, "Probably for protection. Dangerous times."

Anatoly gave a grateful bow and walked back to his horse.

He disappeared down the road, heading straight back to Ruslan.

---

"They say they’re headed to the capital," Anatoly reported, panting.

Ruslan said nothing for a moment. Just stared into the trees. frёeωebɳovel.com

Then he laughed once. Dry. Without any joy.

"They’re not going to the capital."

Anatoly blinked. "My Lord?"

"If Ivan really wanted safety, he would have stayed in the palace. It’s easier to guard. More soldiers. Strong walls. If he’s leaving now, it means he’s after something. Or someone."

Anatoly swallowed.

Ruslan turned sharply. "Get the men. All of them. We ride now."

---

The chase began.

Ruslan and his men followed the tracks deep into the woods, then along the edge of the river, toward the towns that led to the capital. The carriage was fast, but it left signs — broken branches, fresh hoofprints, townspeople whispering about royalty passing through. They heard of guards riding close, servants stopping at inns, and a woman who looked like the Duchess.

By nightfall, they arrived in a small town.

Ruslan dismounted and looked around the snowy square. A local inn sat quietly at the edge of the street. Horses from the royal guard were tied out front. The stable boy whispered something to one of his men.

"They’re inside."

Ruslan narrowed his eyes.

The two cloaked figures had entered not long ago. Still dressed the same. They hadn’t spoken to anyone. Just walked in, followed by a handful of palace servants carrying travel bags.

He stood in the shadows near the alley, watching from a distance.

He could see their shapes through the window — tall, lean man. Slender woman. Both facing away. A few guards rested near the stables.

"I don’t like this," he muttered.

But he didn’t move.

He waited all night.

---

By dawn, the carriage was moving again.

The guards had returned to their horses, and the servants packed up supplies quickly. The group moved in formation. They weren’t running, but they weren’t relaxed either.

Ruslan mounted his horse quickly and followed. His men rode behind him. The sun was barely rising, painting the snow in soft pink and gold.

The carriage kept moving. Hours passed. They didn’t stop.

But something was wrong.

They weren’t nearing the capital.

They had turned.

Then turned again.

And again.

"Wait," Ruslan growled.

He slowed his horse, frowning. The path was familiar. Too familiar.

He looked at the tracks.

They had already been here.

"Are they... circling?"

He stared ahead at the carriage, still moving. Still guarded. Still fast.

"Why would they—"

Then it hit him.

He snapped the reins.

"Stop that damn carriage!"

His men charged forward, rifles raised.

A sharp shot rang out.

The coachman fell from the front.

The horses panicked. The carriage spun, wheels slipping in the snow. It crashed into a tree and tipped to the side. Guards tried to scatter but were quickly cut down. Servants screamed and fled.

Ruslan jumped from his horse before it stopped and ran to the wreckage.

He tore the door open—

Two faces stared back at him.

Not Ivan.

Not Lydia.

Two servants. A boy and a girl. Young. Terrified.

He yanked them out by their clothes and threw them into the snow.

His men surrounded them. The remaining guards were already dead.

"Where is the Grand Duke?" he hissed. "Where is the Duchess?"

They said nothing.

He pulled out his knife and pressed it lightly against the boy’s neck.

"I will kill every last one of you."

The boy broke first.

"Please! Please don’t! His Highness went to Viregrad! The Duchess never left the palace!"

Ruslan froze.

For a moment, he didn’t breathe.

Then he laughed. Bitter and loud.

They had tricked him.

All that chasing. All that time. And it was fake.

Fake.

He had followed a lie.

The servants dropped to their knees. "Please. We were only obeying royal orders. We didn’t know—please!"

Ruslan looked down at them.

His face went blank.

"I won’t kill you," he said quietly.

Relief filled their faces.

Then he turned and said to his men without looking back, "But my men will."

The screams didn’t last long.

Ruslan mounted his horse again, eyes cold and distant.

He had been outsmarted.

Ivan had led him away from the palace. Far. Too far.

He knew now where Ivan was headed — Viregrad.

But he couldn’t turn back.

Lydia was too far. And Ivan was already ahead.

He gripped the reins tighter, his jaw trembling with rage.

"You think you’re clever," he whispered. "We’ll see how clever you are... when your trap fails."

Then he rode off. Fast. Toward the one place he had hoped never to return to.

Home.

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