The Poisoned Princess: A Snow White Retelling (The Skazka Fairy Tales)
The Poisoned Princess: Chapter 9

DIMITRI

“Are you going to brood the whole way there?” Kostya’s question breaks through my thoughts, and I glance over at him to find a smirk on his lips.

“What happened to not talking?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. Which only makes him chuckle.

“I can hear you thinking from five feet away. It’s disturbing my peace.”

I grunt and rethink my whole stance on traveling with Kostya. I should’ve brought Yasha. He would’ve just sung the whole time, but at least I wouldn’t have to talk. Technically, I don’t have to anyway, so I don’t comment. But that only lasts a few minutes.

“Come on, Dima. What is it with you? I’ve never seen you frown more than you have in the past two weeks.”

“I’m just suspicious.” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Are you sure it’s not more than that?”

I stop then, turning to face my friend. He stops as well, leaning against the closest tree trunk like he doesn’t have a care in the world as he waits for my response. It really is annoying to have perceptive friends sometimes.

“I. Don’t. Know. What. You’re. Talking. About,” I say, holding his gaze steady. Stronger men have folded under this gaze, but of course, Kostya is unaffected. He chuckles and starts walking again.

“She does that too.” I can’t help commenting. The other man looks at me. “Smiles. All the time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with smiling.”

“There is when it’s her doing it,” I mumble. But Kostya hears it, as if Skazka herself is carrying my words to him across the distance.

“Why? Because you hate it…or because you like it?”

His question shocks me. But what shocks me more is that I don’t have a ready answer, and I’m not sure how to handle that. So I don’t reply. Which is apparently enough of a reply for him.

I liked it better when it was just the seven of us, we had our mission, and there was no one disturbing my sleep. I’m more tired than I’ve been in ages, not just from sleeping on the floor but because there is a stranger in the next room and I can’t ever let my guard down.

The more I think about her, the more questions I have. How did she find the cottage? It’s pretty well hidden with the cave entrance, and I only knew about it because I found some old maps of this kingdom’s forest from before Queen Calista took the throne. The Skazka forest spreads across many kingdoms, but each part of the forest has its own characteristics, specific to that kingdom. It’s something Skazka does on her own—the land is alive with the decisions it makes. But just like in every story, there is good and evil. While Skazka is good, there’s plenty of evil to go around within her borders. Skazka doesn’t control our actions, she gives us tools to make our own decisions, protect our own land.

Which is how we ended up here in the first place. Tsarstvo Vesniy is a kingdom all the way south, the farthest one can go from Queen’s Calista’s kingdom. We’re small, but mighty, a kingdom that flourishes under King Yevgeni’s rule. In his plan to make an alliance with Queen Pelageya, he sent out spies to see what kind of a ruler she is. We discovered that she is a cruel woman who likes power almost as much as she likes her own face.

We could’ve petitioned Queen Calista for help. As High Queen of Skazka, she has authority that surpasses even the king. But he is a proud man and won’t ask for help unless he can’t get it done himself first. Enter our little group of bogatyrs.

Korolevstvo Tsvetov is suffering. Even the forest itself is seeing more and more creatures of darkness creep up out of slumber, almost like the queen’s cruelty gives them the freedom to do so. If Queen Pelageya continues to act as she pleases, that suffering will spread to the rest of Skazka. It might even affect the human realm, considering the trading passage is so close and one of the main strengths of this kingdom. The proximity to the trading passage is a huge appeal for the king and one of the reasons we’re here, under the cover of traveling merchants. We’ve been helping people when we can—the lower class is losing on harvest and taxes—while also trying to figure out what Queen Pelageya’s end game is and how we can gain the upper hand. The castle has been under strict lockdown for years. Even when the queen announced she’ll keep the deal the late king made with King Yevgeni, no one was allowed to come meet the princess.

Someone I would very much like to meet face to face, so that I can see for myself if she’s an ally or a copy of Queen Pelageya. There isn’t much one can tell from letters, not when it provides a way for a person to hide behind written words. I think if I looked her in the eye, I would be able to tell the kind of person she is.

“You don’t actually think the girl is a spy, do you?” Kostya asks. By his tone, I know he’s not kidding. It’s a serious inquiry. I think it over, because the thought has crossed my mind, but then I shake my head.

“I don’t know. And that’s what’s most frustrating, leaving the rest of the men behind with her. What if she’s got friends waiting in the forest, coming to ambush the cottage while we’re away?”

“You really are a ‘gloom and doom’ kind of person,” Kostya comments, but before I can reply, he continues. “It’s possible, of course. We have no idea of her past. But you know Igor and Maxim went out early today, just like they do every morning, to check the perimeter and found nothing. Some blood on the leaves near the entrance that’s probably hers. Her feet were pretty torn up. But it’s dry and there are no fresh tracks, besides our own.”

Of course I noticed her flimsy shoes. If she was a spy, wouldn’t she have come better prepared? Or maybe that was the point, a tool used to gain our compassion. This is exactly why I can’t make up my mind about her. There are too many possibilities.

“Let’s just get the supplies and return as fast as we can,” I say, and that stops the conversation for now. But I can tell he’s still thinking about it, just like I am. It’s why we work so well together. We mull things over, process them, before it’s time to discuss them once more. This is definitely a conversation we’ll be having again.

We spend the rest of the time traveling in silence. I hope we can travel straight to the village and back. I don’t want to be gone too long.

It takes us most of the day to reach the village. The sun is just starting to set when we step out of the forest onto the main road that leads into the center of town. We try to avoid being in the forest after dark as much as possible, and we made good time.

“I’ll get us settled in at the inn,” Kostya says, and I nod.

“I’ll head over to the market and see if I can catch the vendors.”

We go our separate ways, just like that. We’ve done this countless times, to the point that we can anticipate each other’s actions more often than not.

The village isn’t big. The inn we’ll be staying at is right off the main road that weaves through the whole layout. It’s a modest two-story building with a pub attached for convenience. The market is right around the corner, and I pass a few more two-story buildings, mostly for travelers’ use, then come to an open area with wooden stalls.

It’s a basic bazaar, except it has permanent stalls, rather than wooden panels that must be put away at the end of the day. The rest of the village is comprised of small houses, spreading out in the other direction and around the open market space.

This village, which carries no name, is one of those closest to the trading passage, and therefore, it stays open later and has a lot of foot traffic. I can see vendors starting to pack up for the night, and I head to the one selling grechka.

“Zdrastvuite, gospodin,” I greet the man in front of me. He gives me a small nod. “I was wondering, how much grechka do you have available for purchase?”

“I have about five packs, two kilograms each. How many do you need?”

“I would like three, please.”

The man’s face lights up, and he quickly lifts up the packs with the grain, placing them on the counter. I pull out a burlap sack from my satchel and place the packs in it after paying the man.

“Spasibo,” I say, swinging the drawstring over my shoulder. I quickly head over to the other stall and stop the man just as he’s starting to leave, his wheelbarrow full of items.

“I’m sorry to delay you, gospodin. I was hoping I could buy some mannya kasha? I know it’s late, but we’ve been traveling all day, and I would be so very grateful.”

He gives me a once over, and I seem to pass the inspection because he nods. Stepping back behind the counter, he pulls out a pack of semolina from the wheelbarrow.

“Do you have two?”

He doesn’t hesitate before pulling out another. I pay him, then place both packs in the burlap sack.

With that done, I turn back toward the inn. The only other item that we’ll need to pick up tomorrow morning is milk, which is something they sell very early. Now that my mission is accomplished, my body suddenly remembers how tired I am.

“You get everything?” Kostya greets me at the front of the inn.

“Got there just in time.”

“Great. I got us a room.” He takes the sack and leads me inside. The room is close to the entrance and small. Two beds are pushed against opposite sides, with little space in between. That’s it for the furniture, but there is a washroom with indoor plumbing. We drop off the grain and then head back out to the pub next door.

We order beef and potato stew, then settle at a table near the bar. Even though we’re tired, we’re here to glean any information we can get. The queen has been quiet lately, and since we weren’t able to meet the last informant, I’m extra nervous about what she might be planning.

“Ah privet! How’s the trading passage duty?” the bartender exclaims as three men step into the pub. A server brings us our food just then, and Kostya and I exchange a look.

“Slow,” one of the men replies, settling down on a bar stool. “There are new regulations, so everyone’s adjusting.”

“Again? Didn’t you just get new orders?”

“Apparently, they’re tightening security on who can come and go.”

Kostya and I eat in silence, but I know he’s listening just as intently as I am. If the queen is making it more difficult to travel to and from the human realm, that’ll cause a lot of issues for the lower class who are dependent on the trade. The upper class will be affected as well, but it’ll take longer. The queen sure likes to display her power.

The men move on to a different topic of conversation as they drink. It doesn’t look like we’re going to be asking any questions tonight. Kostya doesn’t say anything, and after we’re done eating, we head back to the room.

“What do you think it means?” I ask, after we’ve washed up and climbed into our beds.

“I’m not sure,” Kostya replies. He takes a deep breath and exhales. “But whatever it is, I think we’re running out of time.”

IVANKA

I spend the next day in the kitchen with Pavel. He’s so different from Tetia Alla—he follows his own steps when preparing dishes—but I think they would get along well.

After we returned from picking blueberries yesterday, we bottled some with sugar and some with water, leaving some fresh. Currently, Pavel is teaching me how to make kissel, which I’ve only had once when Tetia Alla let me try some.

“So we’re going to boil the blueberries,” I say, repeating out loud the instructions he gave me earlier. He’s leaning against one side of the counter, eyeing me like a hawk. I’m actually surprised he’s letting me do this.

“Da, remember for how long?”

“Umm, ten minutes.”

He nods, then gives me a quick smile. I place the washed blueberries in a pot and turn the stove on. It clicks a few times. Then I flick the match in, and the fire picks it up.

“And we boiled extra water…”

“Da.” He knows what I’m asking, but he’s not giving me the answer, allowing me the time to think it through.

“Oh, for the starch.”

There’s that satisfied nod of his, and I grin. The water I’d boiled earlier is cooling off, and I watch the blueberries start to boil. After about ten minutes, I take the pot off the fire and let it cool.

“Do you know what’s the best thing to have kissel with?” Pavel asks as we wait. The rest of the men are outside, doing who knows what, so it’s just Pavel and me in the cottage. Maybe it should feel awkward or uncomfortable, but I’ve come to respect these men in the short time I’ve been here. I feel at home here in a strange, magical way.

I shake my head no, and Pavel responds. “Freshly baked bread. There’s just something delicious about the combination.”

Every time Pavel talks about bread, he brings a smile to my face. His whole countenance brightens displaying his passion.

“Where did you learn to cook?” I ask as I strain the boiled blueberries, before adding the sugar.

“Oh, I’ve been helping my mama in the kitchen since I was a wee lad,” Pavel replies, watching what I’m doing. I look up at him in question, but he doesn’t say anything, so I assume I’m on the right track. After I taste the sweetness of the juice, I place it back on the burner to boil some more.

“So you always wanted to be a cook?”

“Da. I love creating with ingredients, and I love watching someone fall in love with the dish I’ve prepared. It gives me immense satisfaction to bring joy to someone through food. Even if it’s a simple meal like beef and potatoes.”

I can see his passion in every word, and it makes me feel a little unbalanced. On one hand, I’m happy he has this. On the other, I realize that I don’t have anything that makes me this happy. It’s a sad commentary on my life, I suppose. I was only ever allowed to study things that would serve me as a future queen. I never had the chance to discover what I liked. Even in more recent years, when the lessons became more random, I never questioned anything. I guess that’s on me.

My hands move almost automatically as I add the potato starch to the previously boiled and now cooled water. I remove the blueberry juice from the stove and let it cool a bit as well, before I add in the starch mixture, stirring slowly. The last thing I do is squeeze a little lemon into the mixture.

“That’s it. We can serve it hot, or we can serve it cold,” Pavel says, coming around and reaching for a glass. I ladle him some kissel, then do the same for myself. We clink glasses and each take a sip.

It’s delicious. The perfect combination of sweet and sour, with a soft texture. Pavel hands me a piece of bread and I take a bite, then take another sip of the warm drink.

I did this myself. With help, yes, but I cooked it.

The first time I ever made oladi with Tetia Alla’s guidance, I felt like this as well. As if I’d accomplished something great. I’m not sure if cooking is my thing. It could be, because the little of it I’ve done has always been enjoyable. But either way, it makes me excited to figure out what my thing might be.

The men pile back into the cottage then, so Pavel begins to set out their dinner. I pour each of them a glass and place it on the table.

“Oh, kissel!” Maxim exclaims, grabbing the glass immediately and taking a sip. “Oh yeah, this hits the spot.”

I grin like an idiot. I can’t help it. What Pavel said earlier about bringing joy to people through food—I understand it even more now.

“Ivanka, did you make this?” Maxim asks, and I nod. “Wow, you’re even better at it than Pavel.”

“Hey,” the older man slaps the back of Maxim’s head, then places a bowl of stew in front of him. “Is that how you talk about the hand that feeds you?”

“I apologize, oh greatest maker of kissel ever. Please forgive me.” Maxim bows his head, and I hide my smile behind my hand.

“What happened here?” Arseniy asked. When I turn my attention to him, I realize he’s pointing to something on my dress. I glance down to find a hole in the front.

“Oh, I’m not sure. I’ll have to mend it.”

“I have a needle and thread you can use,” Arseniy says, before going back to his food.

Meanwhile, I stare at the hole, wondering how I got it. I really do need a change of clothes. Maybe next time the men go to the village, I can go with them. It’s not like I have to worry about being recognized. No one has seen me outside the castle in ten years.

What a cheery thought. I continue thinking it all thorough the dinner and then after, as the men talk about going to pick mushrooms tomorrow. I’m on the couch now, listening to their plans as I mend my dress while still wearing it.

I stare at my feet, a little dejected. I can’t exactly be trampling through the woods barefoot or even wearing the pair of socks I borrowed from Maxim. It’s been fine around the house, and the path we took to the blueberry field was easy enough, but—

“They’re back!” Arseniy calls out, just as Kostya and Dimitri walk through the door. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t truly thought about them being gone, but now that they’re back, I can feel the way they fill the space in the cottage.

My eyes take them both in, checking them over for injuries like I’m in some way responsible for their wellbeing. When my eyes clash with Dimitri’s, I look away quickly, getting back to mending my dress. I’m almost done, but I work slowly, if only to prevent myself from gawking. There’s something about the way Dimitri looks after traveling, that rugged look suits him—stop right there. Focus on the dress, Ivanna.

The voices become background noise as I work, focusing my attention on the needle and thread. It’s weird, Kostya and Dimitri haven’t even been gone for two full days, but it seemed longer somehow. The excitement in the men’s voices is soothing, and despite my disappointment about not being able to join in the mushroom picking tomorrow, I’m enjoying myself.

A comment catches my attention, and I refocus on the conversation just in time to hear Maxim mention the trading passage. I try not to show that I’m listening, but if they can provide me with some kind of information about my kingdom, I’ll take it.

“If they’re changing the regulations again, it will make travel even more difficult.”

“The people are barely getting by with what they trade now.” I take a peek to see that Igor is the one speaking. “There must be a way to get around the restrictions.”

My heart hurts at his words, at the fact that there are people in my kingdom who are barely getting by. And new restrictions? The last time I read over the agreement in my studies, it looked that the passage was open to all. If there are restrictions it almost seems like a power play, but I—

Suddenly, a pair of boots drops in front of me. I jerk my head up to see Dimitri looming over me.

“Don’t misunderstand,” he says, nodding at the shoes. “I just don’t want you bleeding all over the floors.” He doesn’t wait for a response, but turns and heads back toward the kitchen, where Pavel is unpacking supplies from a burlap sack.

I pick up the discarded boots and see that they look slightly bigger than my feet. They lace up over the ankles, about five inches up, and have a small heel. They seem sturdy, and I can’t keep the tears from welling up in my eyes. I blink them away furiously, before glancing over to where Dimitri is talking with the men. His back is to me, but if the set of his shoulders is any indication, he seems to know I’m looking at him.

Infuriating man didn’t even give me a chance to say thank you! A warm feeling spreads across my body as I put the needle away and tug the shoes onto my feet. I stand, doing a little twirl. They fit comfortably over the thicker socks, making me feel more like a princess than I have worn in recent years.

When I look up, the men are all staring at me while I grin like a lunatic.

“Guess who’ll be hunting for mushrooms tomorrow?”

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