The Wolf Princess

by Cathryn Constable

Then why didn’t she say something? Why did she want to keep the knowledge to herself? This morning, she told herself, she couldn’t be sure what she had seen. Had there really been a white wolf, or was it just her imagination? Had she been affected by the romance and savagery of the palace’s history, the mesmerizing presence of Princess Anna Feodorovna? What was it about her? Sophie wondered as she watched the woman climb into the driver’s seat. Why did the princess affect her in such a way? She wanted to be always in her company, felt bereft when the princess wasn’t looking at her, yet almost frightened by that penetrating gray gaze.

  “Stop staring,” Delphine had whispered as they were called forward to climb into the back of the vozok. “The princess will think you’re being rude.”

  The vozok lurched around the corner of the palace now, and Delphine and Marianne squealed in alarm. Viflyanka headed for the woods, charging past the stables set behind high, ornate railings. Sophie glimpsed the dilapidated buildings where Viflyanka must sleep. She thought of the boy, Dmitri, and as if she had conjured him out of the air with her thoughts, he walked across the deep snow, an ax in one hand, a large metal bucket in the other. Yes! It was the boy! Dmitri! They raced past, and he looked up at the sound of the bells and Ivan’s cries of encouragement to the fast-moving horse. His face was alight with curiosity.

  Sophie wanted to wave and laugh and tell him they’d be back soon, that they were going skating with the princess, and she didn’t care that she wasn’t supposed to talk to him … But she didn’t dare, even though the princess was looking straight ahead, intent on making Viflyanka charge even faster toward the forest. Sophie remembered the look on her face when she had called the boy a dirty domovoi.

  Dmitri stood quite still, watching them. He had a kind expression, Sophie thought. Like the best sort of older brother.

  “That’s the boy from yesterday,” she said to Marianne.

  “What’s he doing with an ax?” At least, that was what Sophie thought she had said. It was hard to hear above the bells and with shawls across their faces and ears.

  She watched him take something out from the bucket. It was wrapped in burlap. Then he stood back, and raised the ax with a loose, practiced swing. She thought he must be chopping wood. But when he brought the ax down, she saw it was not wood at all, but the limb of a dead animal. She turned her face away, horrified, just as the vozok lurched to one side.

  Ivan put his hand on the princess’s arm as if to restrain her.

  She shook it off. “Leave me alone, Ivan!” she cried. “I drive this vozok better than you!”

  The girls looked at each other.

  “How can she think that?” Marianne said in a low voice.

  “It doesn’t matter what she thinks,” Delphine replied. “She’s a princess. She can do what she likes.”

  “No one can do what they like all the time,” Sophie said.

  “Maybe you can if you own all this.” Delphine looked at the forest looming ahead of them. She pulled down her shawl and leaned forward to speak to the princess. Her nose was already pink with cold. “How large is the estate?”

  The princess, reining Viflyanka in to a brisk trot as they entered the woods, shrugged. “It goes on for many miles,” she called back. “No one really knows anymore.”

  Sophie looked deep into the scarred trunks of the silver birches. Was this where the wolf had run to last night? Was he in there still, watching them?

  “The Volkonskys came here to hunt.” The princess flicked the reins. “Wolves … and bears …”

  “Wolves?” Sophie said. “But Ivan said —”

  “Has Ivan been telling you stories about the Volkonsky wolves?” The princess didn’t sound amused.

  “Princess, I —” Ivan began.

  “The next story he will tell you” — she took a moment to wrestle with Viflyanka, who was sweating, waves of white foam on his neck — “is about the Volkonsky diamonds!”

  “Diamonds?” Delphine looked interested. “There are diamonds?”

  The princess was quiet for a moment, then said, “The Volkonskys owned a necklace of priceless diamonds — long enough to hang a man. It was given to the last princess by her adoring young husband on the occasion of their marriage.”

  “Will you show it to us?” Delphine asked.

  “Perhaps,” the princess said, looking at Sophie over her shoulder. “If I find it.”

  Ahead was a clearing in the woods and what looked like a small circular temple with a frozen ornamental lake in front, surrounded by birch trees. Smoke rose from the temple’s domed roof. Sophie was struck once more, not only by the extravagant architecture tossed carelessly into a Russian forest, but by the thought that some long-forgotten Volkonsky had wanted such a building as a simple skating hut. It seemed romantic rather than foolish.

  Ivan turned around, his beard rimed with frost. “You see?” he said. “I have had the stove lit. We will not freeze on our skating pond!”

  The princess pulled Viflyanka to a halt. “He goes well, this little horse of yours, Ivan.”

  “But you would do well not to let him have his head so much, Princess.” Ivan collected up the reins she had thrown carelessly to one side. “He is fast … but he is not steady. You should be more careful.”

  “Careful? Did you hear that, girls?” The princess stood up. “Ivan wants me to be careful!” She jumped down into the snow, laughing, then held a hand up to Sophie. “Fetch the picnic, Ivan! We will soon be hungry.”

  Sophie threw back the bearskin and took the princess’s hand to jump down. Ivan pulled a thick blanket over Viflyanka and unloaded wooden crates from the back of the vozok without saying anything.

  The princess hurried the girls into the little temple. Inside, the walls had been covered in tiny diamond-shaped mirrors. A tiled stove in the corner gave off plenty of heat, and a large round table was already laid with a crisp white cloth. It was as if the room itself were waiting for its guests, pleased to be used after years of neglect.

  Delphine gasped. “It’s so pretty!”

  “Like stepping inside a crystal,” Marianne said, stamping her feet on the floor to shake the snow from her boots.

  “Another example of Volkonsky madness, you mean.” The princess was looking through a pile of ancient skates in a box; the blades were rusted, the leather cracked and dry. “We must find you skates!” She seemed to be speaking more quickly than yesterday, as if the ride through the woods had excited her as much as Viflyanka. Her eyes glittered like the gray diamonds on her fingers as she pulled off her sealskin gloves with her teeth.

  “Here, Delphine” — she handed her a pair of skates by their tangled laces — “these should fit you.” Sophie watched the princess’s reflection refracted in the tiny mirrored panes as she started rummaging through the pile once more. “Marianne? I think your feet are slightly smaller than Delphine’s.” She picked up a battered pair of brown skating boots. “You’ll need to put them on outside.” The two girls tramped outside into the snow.

  “As for you …” She looked up at Sophie’s face, as if Sophie’s expression might tell her the size of her feet. “I think you can take these.” The skates were like little brown ankle boots with slim blades attached to the bottom. “They belonged to the last Princess Volkonskaya.”

  “The one who escaped? With her child?”

  “Who told you that? I thought you didn’t know anything about the Volkonskys.” The princess looked sharply at Sophie.

  Sophie hesitated. Had she said something wrong? “I don’t, except what Ivan told us. How could I?”

  She wondered why this should have upset the princess so much. Perhaps there were things in the Volkonsky family she didn’t want Sophie to know about. Things she might be embarrassed about. But how could that be? Everything to do with the Volkonskys was so fascinating, if sad.

  “He seems very keen on telling you the Volkonsky history.” The woman tossed Sophie the skates. “When I think perhaps he should mind his own business! What abo
ut your family?”

  “I don’t have a family,” Sophie said. “My father —”

  “He died?” the princess cut in. “Do you remember anything about him?”

  Sophie was taken aback. “Just strange things. Blurred pictures. Sometimes the sound of his voice.” She didn’t mention that she had heard it since she’d been here in Russia.

  “What sort of pictures?” The princess leaned closer. But Sophie couldn’t think how to describe the images of her father reading to her, or the meticulous way he peeled an apple, or the careless way he slammed a door. When she didn’t say anything, the princess pressed, “What about the rest of your family? You must have other relations?”

  “No.”

  “Surely someone?”

  “Just my guardian. But she was my mother’s friend.”

  The princess nodded slowly. “How awful to be so entirely and completely alone.” But she didn’t sound that sorry.

  “I try not to think about it,” Sophie mumbled.

  They followed Marianne and Delphine outside to a large stone bench to put the skates on. Sheltered under the portico of the temple where the snow could not fall, Sophie saw that the legs of the seat on which her friends now sat ended in carved stone wolf paws.

  The snow had begun to fall again. Sophie watched as Ivan carried the last of the crates into the hut.

  “Unpack the picnic, Ivan!” the princess called out to him. “I need a glass of vintage shampanskoye from the Volkonsky cellars before I skate!”

  “I think it would be better after your exertions on the lake, Princess,” Ivan said quietly.

  As he turned his back, the princess stuck her tongue out at him. “Always trying to spoil my fun!” she said. “But what point is there in being a princess if you can’t have what you want?” She leaned forward to lace up her skates. “He’ll do as I ask,” she said, her chin jutting out. “He’ll have to!”

  Sure enough, Ivan came out carrying a small horn beaker. He handed it to the princess. She looked inside, laughed, and drank the contents.

  Ivan, taking the beaker out of her hand, knelt down in front of Delphine. “You must lace your skates more tightly,” he said. He took off his outer gloves and retied her laces. When he had finished, Delphine stuck out her feet and flicked them from right to left. “I don’t have my phone!” she said, making a mock sad face. “Now I can’t film my feet!”

  “Will you skate?” Sophie asked Ivan as he knelt in front of her to check her skates. She was going to make a fool of herself, she knew, but felt that Ivan’s presence and calmness would be reassuring on the ice.

  “You must not be afraid!” Ivan smiled so that his eyes crinkled at the corners. “While I am on the ice, no harm can come to you.”

  Sophie felt strong hands pull tightly on the laces and then mold the leather to her ankle. “They fit you perfectly,” Ivan said, sounding surprised. “Your feet must be quite small and narrow.”

  “I had some silver slippers yesterday,” Sophie said. “They fit, too.” She became aware that the princess was watching them closely. She looked cross. Did she think Sophie was getting above herself? But there was no reason for her to be angry because Sophie’s feet were the same size as a Volkonsky princess’s, surely?

  “What’s taking so long?” the princess snapped, then stood up and took small neat steps down to the edge of the frozen lake. And then she launched off, with long athletic lunges, skating faster and faster. Laughing, she turned her face upward into the light flurry of snowflakes and swooped about the ice as if she were a bird that had been too long in a cage.

  Sophie took a breath of the forest air. Peppermints and diamonds, she thought, just as she glimpsed a figure through the trees, slipping slightly as the snow gave way underfoot … But this was not the cloaked figure of her dreams, with snowflakes in her hair. This was Dmitri, a bag slung across his chest, two dead hares hanging from wires on his back. So he was a hunter as well as a groom.

  As if he had heard her thoughts, the boy turned and looked at her. He seemed at home in the forest, almost happy. But the image of the ax swinging up and cleaving the animal limb in two made Sophie shiver and look away. When she looked up again, the boy had turned his back and started to move away.

  Ivan strode onto the lake in heavy black boots, ribbed soles keeping him from slipping. He planted himself a few feet away from the edge. “Marianne!” he called, clapping his hands together in large rabbit-fur gloves.

  Marianne stood, uncertain and wobbling, in the snow at the edge of the lake.

  “Small steps!” Ivan called. “Like a baby! Walk toward me … keep looking up! Do not be scared! You will not fall!”

  All the while Sophie could hear the scoring, swishing sound of the princess as she tore around the lake, now bending forward to gain speed, then standing up as she changed direction.

  “She’s so good,” Delphine whispered to Sophie. “I can skate, but nowhere near as well as her …”

  Marianne took tiny steps, her body hunched.

  “See? I have my arms out to you!” Ivan called.

  Marianne, still looking extremely cautious, took two more tiny steps.

  The princess had been observing the scene and laughing. Now she began to race toward the girl. Marianne was unaware of the woman coming toward her, so intense was her concentration. Her gaze was fixed on Ivan’s open, encouraging face. Just as she was about to reach out to Ivan’s hands, the princess whooshed between them.

  Marianne shrieked in alarm and almost fell backward, but was grabbed by Ivan, who pulled her back up. He put his arm around Marianne. “Princess! Enough!” he roared.

  The princess laughed and turned a defiant pirouette. “You can’t stop me!” she called from the other side of the lake. “And admit it! You don’t want to!”

  Delphine had now stepped onto the ice and was gliding toward Ivan and Marianne.

  “Excellent, Delphine,” Ivan said, smiling his approval.

  Sophie saw her friend look toward the princess to make sure she had seen how easy it was for her, and was rewarded with applause. Delphine adjusted her scarf and skated confidently around the lake.

  And now it was Sophie’s turn. They were all looking at her. Ivan, still with one arm around Marianne, held out his other to her. Sophie knew she lacked Delphine’s ability and the dogged determination of Marianne. She was going to be the worst.

  “I’ll just watch,” she called to Ivan.

  The princess swooped across. Her skates grated on the ice as she came to a graceful halt in front of Sophie.

  “Walk toward me!” She put out both her arms. “Don’t be scared!”

  Her face, with its deep gray eyes and flushed cheeks, banished any feeling of shyness or shame. All Sophie knew was that she couldn’t skate, but that she wanted to do whatever this woman asked of her.

  “Keep looking at me!” the princess said, skating closer. And then, whispering, “Trust me.”

  Sophie took another breath of the dream-laden forest air. It felt as if she had very little choice. She must either try to skate, or risk looking foolish. Last night the princess had trusted Sophie. Now she must do the same.

  She stood up and felt her legs tense as she tried to balance on the narrow blades. But she could stand, just, if she took tiny steps. The trick was to keep moving, like when riding a bicycle. The princess was paying attention only to Sophie, and she sensed a furious concentration in the woman’s whole body.

  I’ll just take two more steps, Sophie thought, then one more … She knew she must fall, surely, the next step, or the next? She had been walking across the snow, her ankles wobbling, for far too long. She seemed no closer to the princess.

  Delphine and Marianne were giggling, but she daren’t look at them. She had to keep her eyes fixed on the princess’s face.

  “Bigger steps, Sophie,” urged the princess. “See? You have nearly caught me …”

  Then, in one delicious second, Sophie understood what she was meant to do. She pushed rat
her harder with her right leg and transferred her weight, and felt the skate glide on the ice. Then she transferred her weight and pushed with the left. She had a sensation of feeling free and weightless, of flying and spiraling, of not knowing where she ended and the snow and the forest and the frozen lake began.

  “I’m a snowflake!” she laughed, putting back her head and opening her mouth to taste the snow on her tongue.

  And then she fell. Flat on her back.

  But it was so funny. It was all so funny, with Ivan’s face above, smiling broadly, his eyes crinkled with mirth, and the princess, her white fur turban above her arched eyebrows, laughing with genuine amusement. She saw the daytime stars above their heads, the branches of the birch trees that seemed to pin them there, and felt she could have burst with happiness.

  A light mist rolled along the base of the trees. Except mist didn’t move like that. Mist wasn’t as dense as that. It didn’t assume the shape of … the shape of …

  Appalled, Sophie knew she must shout out. She was no longer in the palace, looking down from the safety of the nursery.

  The white wolf crept forward, quiet as snowfall, edging closer to the princess, who continued to smile down at Sophie, oblivious to the danger behind her.

  “Sophie?” The princess offered her gloved hand.

  The wolf stopped, sniffed the air. His eyes looked red against the white of the snow. Sophie could see now that there were patches of pale gray on his pelage. Oh, gray wolf … But this was a real white wolf, not the old gray wolf of the fairy tale. And there was no comfort to be had from her father’s voice. With a wave of panic, Sophie realized that this animal was wild and would not be hemmed in by a mere story. He was entirely his own master.

  Sophie couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. She sensed, as keenly as an electric shock, that the wolf saw, felt, experienced the woods in a completely different way from her. He could see deep into the night. He could feel the quality of the snow with his paw, understanding how long winter would be by the depth of the ice crust. He could smell Viflyanka’s sweat, hear the pulses of every one of them and know who would be the slowest runner, the weakest prey. But he didn’t just take in this information; it was as if he became whatever was around him. He was a part of the world he inhabited. He seemed to be looking right at her. She felt drawn to him, but the fear would not leave her.