The Wolf Princess

by Cathryn Constable

  It was Viflyanka fretting and stamping that gave her a voice.

  “Wolf!” she cried. “In the woods!”

  Why weren’t they running? Why were Ivan and the princess just staring at her like that?

  The princess’s face beneath her mink turban didn’t show any surprise, any fear. She shook her head.

  “No, Sophie.”

  “Yes! I saw it!” She struggled to sit up, looked again into the trees. There was nothing there.

  “Inside!” roared Ivan.

  “But Ivan!” The princess shook her arm from Ivan’s grip. “You know there’s nothing in the woods! We have them all.” But when she couldn’t free her arm from Ivan’s hand, she said, looking uneasy, “Don’t we?”

  They half skated, half stumbled back to the temple, Ivan striding to the vozok. He pulled out a hunting rifle.

  “Get inside!”

  “But Viflyanka!” Sophie yelled.

  The princess shoved her in the back and she fell into the temple.

  Marianne and Delphine, looking shocked, clung to each other. The princess took off her skates and paced the room. Sophie jumped when two cracks from the rifle split the air.

  An instant later Ivan threw open the door. His fur hat had slipped back off his forehead. His face was white. “Nothing,” he said. But he was breathing heavily, and for the first time Sophie could see worry in his eyes.

  The princess nodded. “I told you!” Then she pulled Sophie toward her. Her fingers dug into Sophie’s arm. “Don’t try that again.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve frightened your friends.” The princess spoke so quietly that Sophie had to strain to hear her. “There are no wolves. The wolves have been taken care of.”

  “But I saw —”

  “You saw nothing.”

  They ate their picnic in silence in the temple: a loaf of fresh rye bread from a large embroidered napkin, bowls of pickles, and dishes of mushroom dumplings, which Ivan said were called pirozhki.

  “We must go now,” announced the princess the moment they had finished. “I shall drive.”

  The velvety denseness of the northern light had intensified in the time they had been inside. It made the silver birches stand out more clearly, and the stars appeared lower in the sky, touching the highest branches.

  Ivan helped the girls into the vozok, then slipped the thick blanket off Viflyanka’s stout body. The little black horse snorted his approval and swished his thick tail.

  “Did you really see something in the woods, Sophie?” Marianne whispered. She looked around her, as if they might be surprised at any moment by a wolf leaping out from the trees. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost rather than a wolf.”

  Sophie saw how frightened she was. “It was nothing,” she lied.

  “Of course she didn’t see anything,” Delphine said. “She’s just the girl who cried wolf. No one will believe you next time, Sophie,” she laughed.

  The bells jangled, the runners slid through the snow, and the princess turned the vozok toward the narrow path through the woods.

  The moon had risen, but little could be seen of it through the black branches. Viflyanka trotted on smartly, his breathing regular. Sophie looked back at the little temple until she could no longer see it.

  “We should not take this path,” Ivan said. He kept his hand on the rifle. “The path around the woods is safer.”

  “You said there was nothing,” the princess said. “Or were you lying?”

  “I would never lie to you, Princess,” Ivan said, but he looked uneasy.

  “Remember what will happen if I can’t trust you, Ivan,” she hissed. Then, realizing that Sophie was watching her, the princess changed her mood instantly. “But see how well I am driving?” she teased. “Or perhaps you think I am still driving too fast?” And she pulled on the reins and slowed Viflyanka to a walk.

  It was over so quickly that Sophie wasn’t sure what she had just witnessed. Was the princess angry with Ivan? He didn’t seem to be untrustworthy; in fact, Sophie would have been glad to have Ivan if she had been a princess.

  “I think we must keep moving in this part of the forest, Princess,” Ivan warned.

  Sophie could not think of the wolf now. She sensed he was no longer nearby. She felt the tears well up and blinked them back, forcing herself not to cry. She had made a fool of herself in front of the one person that mattered. She had been offered a chance of magic, beauty, friendship, and, like the idiot she was, she had ruined it. The princess didn’t want to know about wolves in her forest. Of course she didn’t. It was all very well having wolves on your cutlery, but that didn’t mean she wanted them around the palace. They were dangerous, wild animals that would rip out her throat if given the chance.

  Sophie watched the trees slip past and felt miserable. Would she ever regain the princess’s good opinion?

  The princess drove them to the front of the palace. Dmitri was waiting under the portico. He looked cold and wretched, not like he had in the forest; Sophie felt sorry for him. He stepped forward to take Viflyanka’s bridle, without looking at anyone.

  The princess, stepping down, stared at the boy. She walked around and spoke to him quietly. The girls watched as Ivan got down. The princess appeared to be explaining a problem to Ivan and the three of them spoke in short, intense sentences. The princess looked angry, although she didn’t shout. The boy, who at first spoke forcefully, fell silent and sullen.

  “He must have done something wrong,” Marianne commented, still under the furs.

  It looked that way. But what? thought Sophie. What could Dmitri possibly have done?

  Inside the palace, the princess appeared distracted, distant. She behaved as if the girls were invisible. She spoke to Ivan, in Russian, her voice conveying increasing frustration. When Ivan stammered what sounded like an excuse, she stalked off up the stairs.

  Ivan looked defeated, weary. “Would you mind if I left you alone until dinner?” he said. “The princess has work to do. And I …” He frowned. “I, too, have urgent duties.”

  The girls walked up the staircase to the nursery, unwrapping scarves and undoing the belts around their shubas.

  “What work could the princess have to do?” Delphine wondered.

  “Perhaps she wants to crack on with the dusting!” Marianne said as she ran her finger along the balustrade.

  “I can’t figure it out,” Delphine mused. “Why did the princess invite us?”

  “There doesn’t seem much point to us being here,” Marianne agreed. “We’re not going to see much of real Russian life.”

  Being here didn’t affect the others in the way it affected her, Sophie realized. She felt already that she understood so much more about the people who had lived and died here. But how could she say this? She knew they didn’t feel the same, and she felt awkward after the episode at the lake.

  “Perhaps she wanted company,” she said. “Friends.”

  “She makes a funny sort of friend,” Marianne retorted.

  “What do you think they were arguing about?” Delphine asked.

  “Were they arguing?” Sophie wondered. “I thought they sounded as if they were just discussing something.”

  “Believe me, since my parents split up, I know when there’s an argument going on,” Delphine said. “Even if everything seems fine on the surface.”

  They were at the nursery door. Delphine pulled down on the brass paw. “Weird, this obsession with wolves,” she said, then looked at Sophie. “That wasn’t one of your better ideas,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Pretending you saw a wolf, to get her attention. It was really lame.”

  “Delphine! That’s so mean!” Marianne cried.

  “I’m saying it for her own good!” Delphine walked into the room. “The princess looked really fed up with her.”

  “I think you should take that back,” Marianne said, following her.

  Sophie stood alone. She didn�
�t know how to enter this room and take on Delphine. She knew she hadn’t cried wolf. She had seen the creature. But the effort of trying to understand what she had seen and felt was suddenly too much. Feeling the tears and hearing a sob escape her, she ran back down the corridor. She needed to be alone for a little while before explaining herself to Delphine … No. She would not explain herself. Why should she?

  She tried to conjure up her father’s voice as she wandered through the palace, but he had become silent since that first ride in the forest. She didn’t know why, but she wished he would come back.

  She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she realized she was lost. She had gone up another, smaller staircase, along a corridor, and found she was somewhere else entirely. But in front of her were mirrored doors that she remembered: the ballroom where they had first met the princess.

  The candlelight flickered as she opened the doors, then settled to a steady glow reflected infinitely in the mirrors. She looked up and saw the largest chandelier shiver and tinkle. Light danced around the room and then, to her surprise, a rope dropped down.

  “Beestra!” A voice! A boy’s voice.

  She ran toward the rope, looked up, and saw Dmitri staring down. She felt her cheeks flush. She felt embarrassed for him and found herself hoping that he had not seen her watch the princess talk to him after the trip to the lake. Perhaps he had done something the princess didn’t like, but Sophie knew that it was wrong to speak to someone with such obvious contempt.

  The chandelier drops chattered and the chandelier swung crazily from side to side as he bent down.

  “What are you doing up there?” Sophie gasped.

  “We talk! Woman not see us here!”

  The princess had called Dmitri “dirty.” No. It would not be good if Sophie was found talking to him.

  “I can’t come up there,” she said. “I can’t climb …”

  “Put your foot in and hold rope! I will pull you up!” he called, his face earnest.

  Miserable after the quarrel with Delphine, Sophie realized she wanted to talk. She grabbed the rope with both hands and slid her foot into the loop.

  “Hold tight!” Dmitri called.

  And she felt herself being lifted up into the air, the movements punctuated by slight breaks as Dmitri fed the rope through his hands.

  I’m not sure I want to do this, she said to herself, closing her eyes. But it was too late. How far would she fall? Best not to look.

  An arm pulled her up into the chandelier. “Sit on the side!” Dmitri said.

  “I’m not good with heights …” Sophie looked straight ahead as she searched for somewhere to sit.

  “Hold on!” Dmitri warned as the chandelier tilted. “Be careful!”

  She lowered herself carefully onto a horizontal piece of metal.

  “Lean back!” Dmitri said, showing her how he was leaning against a gilded metal bar. Then he stared at her. “You cry?”

  “No!” Sophie brushed her cheeks with her hands.

  The boy frowned, but said nothing more.

  “I saw you,” Sophie said after a few seconds’ silence. “In the woods. You’d been hunting.”

  The boy shrugged. “Food. I can find everything I need in forest. Even in winter.”

  Sophie thought about asking him what he had done, why the princess had been angry with him. Then she thought it might embarrass him. And he had invited her up into the chandelier, trying to be friendly. She didn’t want to break anything.

  “I saw something else as well …” she said instead, then wondered if she should be saying this. Was she going to make a fool of herself again?

  “What?” Dmitri was watching her closely, but his face showed no emotion.

  She knew she didn’t have to tell him anything. Perhaps she should stop now. But then what would she do? Go back to Delphine and Marianne? They didn’t understand, and she needed to tell someone.

  “I saw …”

  “A wolf?” the boy whispered.

  “Yes!” He understood. Sophie sighed with relief, and the chandelier shook, making the crystals shiver and clink together. “The princess didn’t believe me,” she added. “And Delphine said I was making it up to get attention.”

  The boy didn’t say anything immediately. He flicked a crystal with his finger. “You like that woman?”

  Dmitri wasn’t looking at her, so it made it easier to be honest. “I think she’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met. She’s like a diamond, isn’t she? She’s so brilliant you can’t take your eyes off her.” She felt she shouldn’t also say that she felt unnerved when she was around the princess, likely to blurt things out or be eager and gauche. She didn’t mention how the woman had made her feel scared. Dmitri didn’t need to know that. She didn’t want to offend him by saying anything wrong about the princess.

  Sophie moved her foot away from Dmitri’s. They had to sit very close to each other and she felt awkward being unable to move any farther away.

  He reached into the pocket of his worn trousers, brought out a battered cigarette, and held it out to her. “You smoke?”

  “Of course not!”

  He shrugged as if not smoking was equally fine. He stuck the cigarette between his lips, but didn’t light it. Sophie knew it was just a prop, meant to make him look older. After a few seconds he took it out and put it behind his ear.

  “Where are you from?”

  “London,” she said. “The place with the red buses?”

  He nodded.

  “At least, that’s where I live now. I used to live in the countryside … I think … when my father was alive …” She knew she had started to rattle on about things the boy could have no interest in. But she wanted to talk to Dmitri; there was a quietness about him that made her feel she could tell him things without feeling self-conscious.

  “My guardian, Rosemary, she said she’d tell me more about my parents when I’m older. She didn’t approve …” Sophie stopped when she saw Dmitri frown.

  “Approve?”

  “She didn’t like my father. He was a poet. No money!”

  Dmitri shrugged as if this would be of little importance.

  “Rosemary thought he married my mother for money … He must have been very poor if he did, because my mother didn’t have any money, either.” She sighed. “I’m frightened to ask her any more about him. Maybe it’s better that I remember him as being someone who was kind and who sang to me. So much is jumbled up in my mind when I try to think of my parents. The more I try to remember things, the more tangled and mixed up they become. I can’t tell anymore what is a story or a memory.”

  “Your father is dead … My father also.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “Your mother?”

  “My mother, too.” Sophie smiled defiantly. “I’ve been very careless … imagine losing both parents!”

  “Many people have been lost,” Dmitri whispered. The chandelier drops trembled as he shifted position slightly.

  “What is the word for chandelier in Russian?” Sophie flicked one of the still trembling drops with a fingernail as he had done.

  “Lyustra.”

  “I like that word,” Sophie said. “It sounds like illustration … like a picture in a storybook … as if you could look into the crystals and see things happening …” She knew from the faint frown on the boy’s forehead that he didn’t understand, but she felt it was important that she made herself understand, right now, sitting in this cloud of crystal that sprinkled light down onto the floor like a hoarfrost. She flicked another drop and it clinked deliciously, like the sound of Delphine’s laugh.

  “I have one a bit like this.” She was going to pull the piece of glass out from under her shirt, but felt suddenly foolish. What would Dmitri think of her, wearing an old piece of glass as a necklace? Instead she said, “I love the way it sprinkles the light around.”

  She could see where one string of the chandelier had been replaced. The wire was thinner and the glass was dirti
er, grayer than the other strings.

  “Woman upstairs makes me clean. Clean chandeliers! Me! Dmitri! She said they had not been cleaned for a hundred years! She said it was good punishment.”

  “Punishment for what? What have you done?” Would he tell her what the argument was about?

  The boy looked away. “I do most things she asks. But some things I cannot do.”

  Sophie felt it would be rude to ask him any more. Perhaps he had felt humiliated that the princess had spoken to him so harshly in front of Sophie. It was never very nice to admit you hadn’t pleased someone or done what they had asked.

  They sat quietly for a moment, looking through the chandelier.

  “She said I must not speak to you,” Dmitri muttered.

  “She said the same to me!”

  They looked at each other, but then looked away again.

  Sophie said, “I don’t know why she doesn’t want us to talk.” She couldn’t look at his face because it was a lie: She knew why the princess didn’t want her to talk to him. She had called him “dirty” and said the word in such a way that made Sophie feel awkward. Feeling braver, she looked back at him. “But we don’t have to tell her, do we?” she whispered. “We could talk and not say anything? It could be a secret?”

  “Many Volkonsky secrets,” the boy nodded. “But she never find out.”

  They sat quietly for a few more seconds. Then Dmitri took a deep breath. “If I tell you something, you won’t tell woman upstairs?”

  Sophie nodded but felt slightly uncomfortable. The princess had said they must trust each other, it was true, but there was something in Dmitri’s manner that made any agreement with the princess seem less important.

  “There is Volkonsky song. I sing for you? But not for woman upstairs …”

  The boy looked at her as if he could tell if Sophie would keep whatever secret he wanted to share. Then he spoke very slowly: “V glubinye vecherom, Snyeg bypadaet, kak almazy. Volky poyut vlunnom svetye.”