Ivan had received the letters, memorizing them, before, he tore them to pieces and swallowed away their exitance. He had healed, but, the doctor kept making his visits on Alfred's behalf. He awaited Bonnefoy's arrival, in dread, hoping that his dear comrade had given up his pursuit and moved on.

Quietly, Francis entered the room, an envelope in his hand.

"No more." Braginski refused. "I will not read. They bring me too much pain."

"Monsieur, why do you not write back?"

"Then what? What would you have me do?" Asked Ivan, angered. "Increase his attachment to me? Endanger him? He is fool to think I am worth that. You as well, do not come again. Please, the risk is too great."

"I understand." Bonnefoy did not press the issue farther."It has a pleasure, Monsieur Braginski." He left the room.

Matthew was waiting for him. Nonchalantly, he smiled.

"You come fairly often, are there any complications?" Asked Williams, accompanying Bonnefoy. "Anything I must inform the Highness, about?"

"Non. The surgery is a new procedure, I like to log his progress. This is my last visit."

"Ah, I see. Let us make sure your final visit is rememberable."

Matthew slammed Francis to the wall, a dagger plunged into his forearm. The sharp pain caused his body to seize. Alfred's letter fell from his hand. It was fetch from the floor by Roderich.

"I guess you won the wager, Williams." He said, holding the envelope betwixt his fingers. "The Queen will want to hear of this."

"Salop!" Bonnefoy cried out after him. "Release me!" He demanded.

"Non." Williams mocked. "Monsieur, vous ĂȘtes un imbĂ©cile."