The Poisoned Princess: A Snow White Retelling (The Skazka Fairy Tales)
The Poisoned Princess: Chapter 3

When the howl sounds again, this time closer, I snatch the rope from the ground and move back.

“Run, Anya. Run!”

Then I turn in the direction we had been heading and take off into the trees, weaving in and out as best as I can in the near darkness. My feet hurt, uncomfortable from all the walking and the poor protection on the soles. But I don’t stop to think about that as I move away from the maiden.

Branches scratch at my skin, like claws reaching out through the darkness. Even as I force myself to keep moving, my body shakes, sweat sliding down my back. My chest feels like it can’t contain my frantically beating heart. I weave in and out of trees automatically, fueled by nothing but my resolve to survive.

It’s only when I’ve been moving for a while that I realize I’m crying. Confusion, fear, betrayal—all of these feelings lead to a helplessness I don’t know how to deal with. None of my lessons had prepared me for this. I have never felt so alone in my entire life.

Suddenly, I’m so tired I can’t go any farther. I sit on the cold ground, resting my back against a tree, and give myself a moment to feel everything.

I’m no stranger to grief. My father taught me the importance of emotion and my responsibility to control it. When I lost him and Queen Pelageya took the throne, I had to learn very quickly what that meant. She didn’t tolerate any display of weakness. And even as a child, I understood that I needed to win her favor.

Regardless, I have always strived to keep a positive outlook, to search for the beauty in everyday moments. I want to honor my parents’ legacy, to be the kind of daughter and—eventually—queen that they would be proud of.

But now, as I shiver against the trunk of the tree, I wonder how someone can survive so much pain. This world is filled with incredible magic, and all I’ve seen are the dark corners. Now, I’m alone.

This time, the tears fall silently.

I bury my head in my hands, praying for guidance and salvation. Father always said there is help all around us, if only we are able to recognize and accept it. Right now, there’s nothing but darkness. I don’t know how to find the bright side of this situation.

The temperature drops a few more degrees as I sit, and before I’m frozen in place, I force myself to stand. That was enough of a pity party. If I don’t start moving, I won’t survive—that much I know, even from my limited knowledge of the outdoors. Not only am I in danger of getting sick and passing out, but there are still creatures roaming around.

Ever since I set foot in this forest, I’ve felt them. Their watchful eyes follow my every move. It doesn’t feel like I’m being stalked by wolves, but I also don’t have enough information to make that determination. Everything I know about this forest comes from snippets of a nightmare and books. I could be surrounded by all kinds of monsters right beyond my sight. Not a cheery thought and one I push away as hard as I can, before it freezes me in place once more.

I place my palm against the bark and inhale deeply. The mental and emotional fatigue is enough to make anyone want to curl up and sleep. Add to that the physical exhaustion, and I’m surprised I’m still standing. I have no idea how long I’ve been in these woods, but by the feel of my ice-cold skin, I’d say it’s been a few hours, at least.

Even if I wanted to get back to the castle, I wouldn’t be able to find it. As I glance around, I realize I have no idea which direction I came from. Everything is blurring together.

“Ny i tak,” I say out loud, keeping my voice low but needing the reassurance of words. “You got yourself into a situation. Now you need to get yourself out. If there are any nice forest creatures who need to earn points for good behavior, I could use a guide right about now.”

As much as I’ve read about the dangers of the forest, I’ve also read how the forest of Skazka takes care of its own. Like my father said, it doesn’t hurt to ask.

Glancing around once more, I don’t see or hear any movement, so I guess no nice forest spirits are coming to guide me. Not that I truly believed I’d run into one. I’ve only ever read about them in the history books, but those pages don’t hold comprehensive information. The forest likes to keep her secrets.

Skazka is considered to be a living, breathing land, which is why she helped Queen Calista save us all from Baba Yaga. Now, decades later, Queen Calista’s conquests are written in books and sung around campfires. One of these stories tells of the spirit of the forest—Skazka herself—speaking to Queen Calista through various means. That particular story always fascinated me. It would be such an honor to be chosen by the land to carry out a quest of that magnitude. On the other hand, Queen Calista traveled across Skazka. I find comfort in knowing that she survived it…even though she’s much more equipped for such things than I am.

Still, it’s a nice story and a nice thought. Since I only ever expect bad things to be creeping around in the shadows, it would be incredible to discover they were good things instead. Father called me a ray of sunshine because of my constant ability to find the bright side of things. I can’t really turn off that part of my brain. Even now, in the midst of all this, I still hope for some kind of goodness.

I start walking again, once again having no idea where I’m going—at least, I’m moving, which I’m taking as a win even though my feet are already protesting and I can feel scratches on my arms where the branches graze them. The trees appear more closely grouped together here, making it difficult to see what’s beyond my line of vision. I think I’ll be walking like this for forever. But then, something catches my eyes.

I stop in my tracks, doing a quick pan of my surroundings. The moon is still high, but most of the trees block it from view. Yet, I could’ve sworn I saw something sparkle. I scan the area a second time, and I think I see it again, somewhere to my left.

Pivoting in that direction, I hold out my hands, so I don’t run into anything. When I get closer, I realize the light was reflecting off a big collection of boulders with a few trees planted around them. I almost go around it, until I feel the sparkle again. I don’t see it—I feel it. Which makes no sense. But nothing makes sense tonight anyway. When I push past the trees planted closest to the boulders, I realize there’s an opening behind one. The branches and long vines cover it, so I would’ve missed it completely if I didn’t walk back here.

My curiosity is impossible to shake, and since I don’t have anywhere to be, anyway, I walk right into the opening. It appears to be a tunnel…or perhaps, a mine. I’ve read about mines but didn’t know there were any in this area.

I place one hand against the rough rock and step farther inside. It’s dark, so I keep one hand against the wall as I walk forward. Maybe this isn’t the best idea, but depending on what I find, I might be able to sleep in here tonight. It’s better than sleeping out in the open.

After a short walk, maybe five minutes or less, the passageway in front of me grows lighter. I hurry and find another opening similar to the entrance. Tree branches and vines hang low enough to obscure the view but still let in a bit of the moonlight. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Pushing past it all, I exit the other end of the tunnel and turn to look back at the boulders. They no longer look like boulders. They form a whole hill in the middle of the forest. Which makes sense—we have a whole mountain range in the south, but I didn’t realize it was so close. Or maybe I’m already that far south of the castle. It doesn’t really matter, though, because I am finally somewhere that the queen can’t find me. At least, for now.

I’m about to go back inside the cave when something catches my eye. Tentatively, I walk through the trees that seem to almost open up in front of me. There, in a small clearing sits a cottage.

The building is adorable. Straight out of one of the storybooks my father used to read to me about the forest before the darkness descended and people went in search of the safety of communities. The cottage seems to be one elongated building—it makes me think of one of those delicious loafs of bread Tetia Alla bakes every now and then—with a dark blue door in the center and two small windows on either side. The roof is made out of hay, hanging low over the stone walls like a top of a mushroom.

It looks like it grew right out of the forest, the way it blends in with the rest of the trees that surround the clearing.

A family must live here. The everyday items in front of the cottage are evidence. I notice a few stumps of wood that look like they’ve been used as seats encircle a firepit with a grate over it. There are also miscellaneous kitchenware—bowls, plates, and cups—stacked in various places around the yard. A shovel lies in the middle of the yard, and a rake rests against the wall near the corner of the house, where I notice some barrels sticking out. Maybe there are even kids here. The chaos seems to fit. It looks cozy and inviting, and before I can think too much about it, I’m racing toward the door.

“Hello? I know it’s late, but please. Can you help me?” I call out as I knock. But there’s no answer. I press my ear to the door, trying to hear inside but am greeted with silence.

I glance back out toward the forest, which has become a black wall surrounding me on every side. My options are limited. Either venture back out there or wait here. But maybe no one is coming. Maybe this family migrated to the villages as well.

It’s too dark for me to see any evidence of footprints or anything else that might tell me the last time people were here. Even though I noticed the dishes, there isn’t any fresh food in them and the fire looks like it hasn’t been lit in a while. I turn back to the door, and this time, instead of knocking, I reach for the handle. Surprisingly, it opens immediately.

I suppose that means no one lives here anymore. People usually lock their doors. I step inside and am greeted by darkness. I didn’t bring matches with me, and I doubt the electricity we’ve acquired from the human realm has made it out here. Still, I check the wall next to the door. There’s no switch. Even our castle doesn’t have electrical lights, so I’m not sure why I expect this place to. Granted, that was Queen Pelageya’s decision. No one questioned it. Now I’m questioning everything.

“Well, I can’t do much in this darkness, can I?” I ask out loud, trying and failing to make out the layout of the room. But it’s hopeless. The moon is hidden behind clouds, and there’s not a sliver—

But before I can even finish my train of thought, the room takes shape in front of me. Blinking, I realize that light is shining through the windows and the open doorway behind me. I turn, stepping back out to find the moon now hanging almost directly over the cottage with no clouds or trees blocking the light. It’s brighter than I’ve ever seen it, and for some reason, I smile.

“Thank you for your kindness,” I say to the moon, before ducking back inside the cottage.

A table is standing near the door. And on it is a lantern with some matches beside it. I light the lantern quickly, lest the clouds overtake the moon again, and then study the room.

It’s one long open space like I’d guessed. Surprisingly, though, there’s a loft to my left above what looks like a kitchen area. A large stone stove takes up the space directly in front of me, and a table on my right has eight chairs.

“A big family, then,” I mumble as I step farther in. To my right is a big open space with a couch against the far left wall and a fireplace in the middle at the end of the house. There’s a bunk bed in the corner to the right, and blankets piled as high as my waist near the bed.

Actually, there are piles thrown on basically every surface of the room, as if someone was in a hurry. Clothes, books, dishes leftover from a hurried meal, much like the scene outside. Whoever lives or lived here is messy.

When I glance in the other direction, I notice a ladder that leads up to the loft. The loft extends all the way to the stove. There even appears to be space at the top of the stove where someone could lie down.

I move farther down the small hall and come out into another open room. A large bed is situated to the right with a smaller bed on the left pushed under the window. There’s a door in the middle of the room between the two beds. I push it open and find an indoor bathroom. A large bathtub sits on one side and a toilet on the other.

In the years since the human realm has become common knowledge for those residing in Skazka, I will say that indoor plumbing is the best thing that’s been brought over. I’m not sure if it’s magic or human ingenuity, but I am grateful. Even though the queen never allowed electrical lighting in the castle, we did upgrade to indoor plumbing. Something to be grateful for, I suppose.

A mirror sits near the bathtub. When I step before it, I can hardly recognize myself. My dress is dirty in patches where I sat on the ground or brushed against something. My feet hurt, skin peeking through where the flats I’m wearing are barely hanging together. Scratches cover my exposed arms, but thankfully, they aren’t deep.

What makes me truly pause is my face. There’s a haunted look in my eyes—the light green color darkened by pain and confusion—that makes me look half alive. I pat my cheeks with one hand, hoping to bring some color to them. The time I’ve spent inside the castle has made my skin a bit pale, but now instead of the porcelain look everyone complements me on, I look like a ghost. My black hair, which I always wear long down my back is a tangled mess, with a few leaves sticking to the strands.

Placing the lantern on the floor, I turn on the bathtub tap and splash cold water on my face and down my arms. Then I run a hand over my hair, untangling some of the mess, before I braid it. With nothing to tie on the end, I leave it as is and hope that it stays for the time being.

Then I stand and face the mirror once more. The girl who stares back at me doesn’t look like a princess—she looks like someone whose whole life has just gone up in flames. And not even manageable flames. The magical roaring kind that takes down whole towns in mere seconds. It’s like the firebird himself descended on me and burnt everything to the ground.

A tear trickles down my cheek, and I swipe it away quickly. Part of me would like to climb on top of the stove, curl up against the warm stone, and cry my heart out. I think I could easily cry for a few weeks. But the more logical part of me understands that will get me nowhere…especially when the residents of this cottage return.

Because the more I think about it, it does look like someone—or a few someones—live here and it’s not abandoned. I’m already imposing on them with my presence. I will not be imposing on them with my tears. I need a plan. I can wallow later.

I run my hands down my sides to smooth out my dress when I hear a crinkle of paper. My mouth falls open as I realize I have the last letter the prince sent hidden in my underskirt. Pulling it out, I smooth the edges, before ripping the envelope open. For some reason, this feels important—like a sign that I’m not completely alone.

I move the lantern closer, as I sit down on the floor and pull the letter out. The familiar cursive stares back at me and my eyes fill with tears.

Princessa Sergeivna,

I think it makes you human. You don’t ever have to apologize for the way your mind works. My friends usually say I’m grumpy, and maybe I am most of the time. But with you, I can let go of that persona and simply be silly. We both see sides of the other that the rest of the world doesn’t, I suppose.

But that’s what makes us individuals, I think. We’re not simply beings created by Skazka to carry out her bidding. We make our own choices, our own decisions. As queen, you’ll be making plenty of those soon enough, and I think your instincts will develop with time.

I sometimes wonder if I would be a good tsar. Not a tsar consort, but a tsar. I suppose that’s not something I’ll ever find out, as my position is to be beside you. I hope you know I don’t envy you when it comes to that. It was just a thought, as I try and, once again, fail to beat my tutor in sword combat. Don’t worry, I’m getting pretty good at it. Just not the best. I told you there has to be one thing I don’t excel at.

It is only a few months until we meet, Princessa. Then you’ll get to see for yourself how amazing I am. In the meantime, did you find the map you were looking for? I would assume your library is stocked with everything your heart desires. And what about the apple pie you wrote about? You said you’d be giving it another try. Did you manage to it bake it to perfection?

S uvazheniyem,

Prince Yevgenich

I smile down at the letter, at the familiar curves of the ink, and my heart feels a bit lighter. Even though I had to sneak around to send these, I’m glad I did, and I’m glad the prince and I were able to create a sort of friendship that could lift my spirits at a time like this.

He’s probably going to wonder what happened to me when I don’t reply. And when the queen announces my demise, I wonder if he’ll be sad? We never spoke of love between us—it was never that kind of a relationship. But it was a relationship because I think we were both lonely in our own ways and we clung to these letters like lifelines. And now I wonder what will happen when I’m no longer part of his life. Who will be there for him when he acts silly on paper?

But that’s neither here nor there. He’ll be okay without me. I have more precedent problems at hand. This place can be my refuge for the time being and I need to make sure I’m welcomed when the time comes. Folding the letter back into the envelope, I place it into the hidden pocket and stand.

Turning toward the mirror, I give my reflection a firm nod of determination, then grab the lantern and head back into the main room. Glancing around, a plan forms in my mind. First, I’ll clean up a little. Second, I’ll make breakfast. I have no idea when they will return, but I don’t know anyone who doesn’t appreciate oladi in the morning. Or any time of day. With that in mind, I set to work.

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