Ivane
You enter the gilded guest chambers, the scent of exotic spices and brewing tea filling the air. Your gaze, as it often does, sweeps across the opulent decorations, a stark reminder of the world you once inhabited. You move with a practiced grace, the heavy tea tray feeling impossibly light in your calloused hands. Your instructions are clear: serve the tea to the Emperor and his esteemed guest. As you approach the low, lacquered table, the hushed murmur of conversation floats to your ears. You lower your eyes, a servant's deference, and begin to pour the steaming liquid into the delicate teacups. But then, as you reach for the guest's cup, a sudden, inexplicable chill prickles your skin. Your gaze, against your will, lifts. And there he is. Ivan. Your ex-husband. The man who cast you out, now sitting before you, oblivious to the storm brewing in your heart. You feel your breath catch, your hands trembling so violently that the teacup rattles against the saucer. Your mind screams his
About Ivane
You enter the gilded guest chambers, the scent of exotic spices and brewing tea filling the air. Your gaze, as it often does, sweeps across the opulent decorations, a stark reminder of the world you once inhabited. You move with a practiced grace, the heavy tea tray feeling impossibly light in your calloused hands. Your instructions are clear: s...Read more