The words hung between them like a delicate thread, thin and fragile, yet full of possibility. Andrei's heart raced as he watched Yelena, her dark eyes never leaving his. Her lips were still curved in that enigmatic smile, but there was something deeper now, something harder, like a wall rising between them, keeping him just at the edge of her reach. He wasn't sure what he expected—perhaps some acknowledgment of his royal title, some hint of fear or reverence—but there was none of that. Instead, her gaze remained sharp and calculating, as if she were sizing him up, reading him in ways he couldn't quite understand.
"I didn't take you for one who seeks out a woman like me," Yelena said, her voice low but sharp, each word laced with a kind of quiet challenge. "What is it that you want, Your Highness?"
The way she said it—the casual mockery in her voice—made Andrei pause. She knew who he was, of course. He wasn't surprised by that. But there was something about the way she spoke to him, as if his title meant nothing in this world of shadows, that unsettled him.
"I'm not here as a prince," Andrei said, his voice firmer now, more resolute. "I'm here as a man. A man who... wants to understand you."
Yelena's smile faltered for the briefest moment, just enough for Andrei to catch it. There was something vulnerable hidden behind her sharp exterior, something raw and untamed that she fought to keep buried. But it was there, undeniable.
"Understand me?" She scoffed, her voice thick with skepticism. "You think you can understand a woman like me? What would someone like you—someone who has everything—know about surviving in this world?"
The challenge in her voice cut deeper than Andrei expected. He had grown up surrounded by luxury, his every need attended to by servants, his every whim met with deference. He had never known hardship, never known what it was to fight for survival. But he understood her words, the anger and bitterness that dripped from them. He could see, in the way her eyes flickered with a mixture of defiance and pain, that she had lived a life he could never imagine. Her strength wasn't born of wealth or privilege—it was born of necessity, of the cruel lessons life had taught her.
"I don't claim to know your life," Andrei said, his voice softer now, as if the rawness of her words had cracked open something inside him. "But I know what it is to be trapped. To be bound by duty and expectation."
Yelena raised an eyebrow, her expression hardening again. "You're a prince," she said, as if the answer was obvious. "What could you possibly know about being trapped?"
Andrei let out a breath, one he hadn't realized he was holding. The walls around his heart were beginning to crack, his resolve crumbling under the weight of her gaze. He had always felt the suffocating pressure of his royal blood, the unrelenting expectations of his family and his people. He had always known that his life was not his own—that every decision, every action, was scrutinized and shaped by forces beyond his control. But he had never had the words to explain it to anyone. Until now.
"I know that sometimes, the chains are invisible," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "And that even when you have everything, you can still feel like you have nothing."
Yelena looked at him for a long moment, her gaze searching, as if she were trying to peel away the layers of his words and uncover the truth beneath. For a brief second, Andrei thought she might dismiss him entirely, throw him out of her world as easily as she had dismissed countless men before him. But then, something shifted. Her expression softened, just enough for Andrei to catch it, and she spoke again, her tone different now—less mocking, more... curious.
"Tell me, Your Highness," she said, her voice tinged with irony. "What is it that you hope to find here, in a place like this? What is it you think you'll discover in the company of a woman like me?"
Andrei was silent for a moment, his mind racing. He had no answer—no real answer—other than the truth that had been gnawing at him since their first meeting. The truth he had been running from, hiding from, because it terrified him more than anything else.
He wanted to be free. Free from the expectations of his family. Free from the weight of the crown that awaited him. Free from the suffocating life of privilege and power.
But he also wanted her. He couldn't deny it anymore, not to himself and certainly not to her. There was something about Yelena—the rawness of her, the fierceness in her eyes—that called to him in a way he could not explain.
"I don't know," he said finally, his voice barely a murmur. "I think I came here to find... something real."
Yelena's gaze flickered, a spark of something like recognition passing between them. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. The noise of the tavern, the clink of glasses, the laughter and shouting—all of it disappeared as if it had never existed. It was just the two of them, standing in the dim light, two souls whose lives had been shaped by forces they could not control, yet whose paths had somehow crossed in this fleeting moment.
Yelena was the first to break the silence. She picked up her glass of vodka, her fingers brushing the edge of the rim, her gaze never leaving his.
"Do you think you'll find what you're looking for here?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost contemplative.
Andrei met her gaze. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I have to try."
The weight of his words hung in the air, and for the briefest moment, Andrei thought she might say something more—something that would shatter the fragile distance between them. But instead, Yelena took a slow sip from her glass, her eyes never leaving his.
"You should be careful," she said quietly, her tone almost a warning. "This world... it's not the one you think it is."
Andrei's heart skipped a beat. There was something in her voice—something that made him realize just how far he was from the life he had known, from the safety of the palace and the familiar, suffocating walls of his royal world.
"I know," he said, his voice steady now, the resolve returning to his chest. "But I don't want to live my life in fear anymore."
Yelena's gaze softened ever so slightly, and for the first time, Andrei saw something like empathy flicker in her eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the hardened, self-protective mask she wore so well.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Prince," she said, her voice cold again, but with a flicker of something deeper beneath the surface. "And I don't think you fully understand the cost."
Andrei's lips parted, but before he could respond, a voice from across the tavern interrupted.
"Yelena! Get over here, you useless whore! We've got work to do!"
The shout came from a burly man who was stumbling toward them