The Wolf Princess Page 10

  “I wonder how big it is,” Marianne yawned. “I can’t get my bearings.”

  On the wall next to Sophie’s bed were sheaves of paper glued to the wall. They were covered in Russian handwriting and had been placed there randomly, mostly overlapping each other. They looked as if they had been torn from a child’s exercise book. Of course! Ivan had said this was the palace nursery. Perhaps this was the writing of one of the Volkonsky children.

  A few of the pages around the edges were coming unstuck, and Sophie couldn’t resist sticking her nail underneath the edge and trying to peel them back. She traced the letters: C, O, and then an O with a line through it, and a back-to-front N and R. COФИЯ. What on earth did that mean?

  Behind the pages were splints of pale wood and then something black: a large hole. So the pages had been stuck there for a practical purpose. A draft sighed through the gaps and rustled the corners of the pages she had pulled away. Sophie wondered where in the palace it came from. There must be so many rooms beyond this one. All of them locked. All of them forgotten.

  “Do you think the princess is lonely?” Sophie asked the others. “Living here on her own like this?”

  “I’m not sure about lonely,” Delphine said. “But she must be bored. There’s nothing to do!”

  “Apart from the skating and the picnics by moonlight and the rides into the forest?” Sophie suggested.

  “If you like snow,” Delphine muttered. “Which you do. I miss the south of France.”

  “But don’t you think it’s interesting to be staying somewhere with such a history?” Sophie said.

  Marianne frowned. “I’m not sure. Terrible things happened here, Sophie.”

  “But good things happened, too …” Sophie felt the words tumble out of her. She knew she was speaking too quickly. “The last prince saved his family!”

  Modern life seemed so limited, so ordinary, so small, when compared to the lives of the last Volkonskys. Yes, it was tragic (how she loved that word) but surely not as tragic as living a life where nothing much happened? Just going along in the same boring way, never risking anything — would that not be more of a waste of this one marvelous life she’d been given? She didn’t want to die like the prince, but she knew in that moment that she wanted a life filled with love and courage. How wonderful for the princess to be related to someone so brave and noble!

  There was a knock at the door. Marianne gasped. “Who is it?”

  The princess appeared in the doorway, carrying two large books. She had changed into a heavily sequined dress. As she crossed the room, moving quickly, Sophie had the impression that she was made from sequins.

  “I have trouble sleeping, my little English girls, and so, at night, I walk through the palace. I have brought you some treasures.” She went to Marianne’s bed. “For you, a book on cosmology, written by Prince Anton Volkonsky. He built the observatory on this estate.”

  “You have an observatory here?” Marianne’s eyes lit up. She took the large book and opened it reverently.

  “Of course!” the princess answered nonchalantly. “Would you like to visit it? I sent for new telescope lenses from Saint Petersburg.”

  Marianne nodded eagerly, turning the first page with extreme care.

  “The skies are dark and a winter long this far north,” the princess said. “The Volkonsky princes always had time to examine the stars.”

  She turned to Delphine, who smoothed her hair. “And for you, Delphine, I have brought some early fashion plates, engravings of the dresses the Princess Maria Volkonskaya wore in the 1850s.” She put the leather-bound volume on Delphine’s lap. “She was just a poor peasant girl, but she danced like an angel. Prince Alexey gave up his position at court to marry her. He built the theater … sadly the roof was blown off, but it was noted for its painted ceiling. She danced for him every night. She was considered a flaming beauty, with a waist the prince could encircle with his hands, and she was much admired by the Tsar.”

  The pages crackled as Delphine turned them. She gasped as she saw four evening dresses on one page.

  “Some of these dresses are probably still in the attics. They wouldn’t have interested the soldiers who stole so much. We could go and look for them, if you like?”

  “I’d love to,” Delphine breathed, gently lifting another leaf of tissue paper guarding the illustrations.

  The princess approached Sophie’s bed. The voluptuous scent of tuberose made everything around her seem richer; even the water-stained wallpapers looked like moiré silk. She sat down on the edge of the bed and spoke very quietly, so the other girls could not hear. “I puzzled over what to bring you. I was not sure what you would like. I feel as if I should get to know you a little better …” She glanced at the other girls, who were now engrossed in their books. “Can I trust you?”

  “Yes!” Sophie felt a rush of excitement. It wasn’t just that she had been invited to stay with a Russian princess whose world seemed at once glamorous and mysterious. The way the princess spoke to her made her feel special. Sophie wondered if this was why her father had wanted to take her to different places — to meet people as extraordinary as the Princess Anna Feodorovna.

  The princess played with the gray diamond rings on her finger, then slipped one off and slid it onto Sophie’s middle finger.

  “I can’t!” Sophie said. “I can’t possibly accept anything so valuable!” She felt panicky. What would Rosemary say? What would her friends think? They knew she had nothing of value to her name. They might think … oh it would be horrid … that she had stolen the ring! No. Better not to take such things.

  “It was a gift to me. And now I am giving it to you. Is this not what friends do?” The princess’s gray eyes looked cold. “You would make me feel unhappy if you don’t accept it.”

  “But —”

  “One day you will give me something in return,” the princess said. She sounded very certain.

  “I don’t have anything to give,” Sophie replied.

  Delphine looked across, suddenly interested.

  “It can be our secret,” the princess whispered as she slipped her hand across Sophie’s, hiding the ring. “And as for thinking you have nothing to give me … you have more than you think, Sophie.” She paused, a calculating look in her eyes. “The Volkonsky diamonds are quite distinctive, don’t you think?”

  Sophie looked at the gray diamond on her finger. She felt quite overwhelmed to be wearing something so beautiful and precious.

  “Of course,” said the princess, “there are other Volkonsky diamonds. You might have seen them?”

  “I’ve never seen any diamonds at all,” Sophie said truthfully.

  “Are you sure?” The princess’s expression turned sour, as if Sophie had disappointed her in some way. “You shouldn’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying,” Sophie said.

  “There are no diamonds in London?”

  “Yes, of course there are, but I’ve never seen any,” Sophie said. She had a sudden sense of shame. Perhaps the princess had picked her as a guest thinking that Sophie had the same kind of background as most of the other girls at her school. There really must have been a mistake, then.

  “I think if you want to know about diamonds,” Sophie muttered, “you should ask Delphine.”

  The princess’s eyes flashed with the same sudden anger Sophie had seen in the ballroom. “I’m not interested in Delphine’s diamonds,” she said, then looked as if she was considering something. “Ivan told me that you had spoken to the boy.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Sophie had known it couldn’t last. She had upset the princess. “He looked so cold … I just thanked him …”

  “Don’t speak to him,” the princess snapped. “He will tell you lies about the Volkonskys. Like all the old servants who stayed here, he’s just a dirty domovoi.” The way she said the last word was horrible. As if she had mentioned something disgusting.

  “Domovoi?” Sophie asked.

  “In Russian folklo
re, domovoye are evil spirits,” the princess said. “They live in people’s houses and cause trouble. They are meant to help with the chores: look after the horses, clean the stove.” She leaned closer. “But they are not like us. They are not to be trusted.”

  “He’s a spirit?” Sophie asked.

  The princess laughed, but there was no warmth in it. “Oh, he’s not a spirit! But he creeps around the palace just like one. You must be careful. A domovoi will come to your bed at night and suffocate you! You have to ask them, ‘For good? For bad?’ And then they are forced to tell you your future.”

  “But does he have anywhere to sleep?” Sophie felt upset that this boy was thought of so badly by the princess. She remembered the way he had waited for them, the frost on his shoulders, his hand on Viflyanka’s bridle. He hadn’t struck her as someone who would do anyone any harm. What was it he had said to her? Voy Volkonsky?

  “Where does he sleep? Probably under a step.” The princess laughed again. “Or inside the stove …” She looked at Sophie as if she were deciding what to say next. “I should have got rid of him when I returned to the palace,” she said slowly. “But Ivan seemed fond of him.”

  “Why did you bring us here? Why us? Miss Ellis …” Sophie’s words dried up. She thought she had seen the princess’s expression change, just for a second.

  “I thought you would like it.” The princess’s voice was calm. “I thought we might be … friends.” A blue vein ran down her cheek, like a thread of cotton.

  “I’m so pleased you invited us,” Sophie blurted, then immediately felt stupid.

  “You like the Volkonsky Winter Palace?” The princess spoke very quietly.

  “Yes!” The word came out on a rush of breath.

  “But it is so neglected,” she mused, looking up at the water stains as if she couldn’t quite believe what Sophie had said. “There is nothing here that would interest you.”

  “But everything about the Volkonskys is interesting!”

  “You’d never heard of them before you came here, had you?” the princess said slowly.

  Sophie shook her head. She wanted to be able to say something fascinating, to keep the princess’s attention, but couldn’t think of anything.

  The princess leaned across to turn off Sophie’s bedside lamp, and the heavy, velvety scent wound around Sophie once more. “We shall talk more tomorrow. You will tell me everything about yourself. Every little detail, everything you can remember … but now, you must sleep …”

  She stood and moved to the door. “Good night, my dear guests! Sleep well on this, your first night in the Winter Palace. Tomorrow we will picnic in the snow and skate on the frozen lake!”

  “I can still smell her perfume,” Delphine said, once the princess had closed the door and the sound of her footsteps had faded. She wrinkled her nose.

  “She doesn’t seem real.” Marianne put the cosmology book down on the floor and plumped up her already plump pillow. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone who looks like her.”

  “But it’s not just how she looks,” Sophie said, sitting up and hugging her knees. “There’s more to it than that … it’s everything. This palace … her family … even the wolf cutlery! It all makes her so fascinating.” She tried to forget the sudden flares of anger, the cold gray eyes that had looked so calculating.

  “The princess seems very interested in you, Sophie,” Delphine said.

  Delphine hardly ever gave compliments. But it did mean that when she said something, it was usually true. Was the princess interested in her? Sophie wondered. Why would a Volkonsky princess be interested in an ordinary schoolgirl?

  “You’re never the center of attention,” Delphine went on. “It’s always me … and I’m not being vain when I say that, it’s just a fact. Or else it’s Marianne because she’s so smart. But ever since you gave that tour at school, things have been changing,” she said slowly, as if she were trying to figure something out. “Perhaps … perhaps the princess sees something in you that others don’t …” She shook her head. “But what? What makes you so special?”

  “I’m not special,” Sophie said. “We know that!” And yet … since she had arrived in Russia it was as if a spark had been ignited inside her. She might not be special, but she felt more alive, as if her life now had unimagined possibilities.

  Marianne took off her glasses, always a clear sign that she was tired. “Maybe it’s just like that woman who visited the school and convinced Mrs. Sharman to let you come on the trip,” she yawned. “The one you thought was Dr. Starova. Maybe she feels sorry for you.”

  Sophie nodded. That was the most obvious explanation.

  “I’m glad we came,” Delphine said. “Everyone will be so jealous on Monday when we go to School 59 and say we’ve stayed in a palace and been skating with a princess.”

  “They might think we’ve made it all up,” Marianne said.

  Sophie thought she might not believe it herself, once they had left this place. And would they even be back in Saint Petersburg on Monday? She tried to remember what the princess had told them when they had signed their skating permission forms, but the memory of what she’d said wasn’t clear.

  The gaps between the girls’ sentences became longer and longer. Sophie thought about the journey that had brought them here, running the images through her mind. The dainty train carriage and the vozok. The wild Viflyanka and the boy with the crescent-shaped scar. The wolf cutlery and the beautiful silver sarafan that seemed to have been made just for her.

  She asked Marianne the time, but there was no answer.

  Sophie hauled her rucksack up off the floor and got out the wooden pencil box. She took the ring off and laid it inside. It would be much safer in there. A diamond ring! She couldn’t believe the princess had really given it to her. How worthless her piece of glass looked next to it. It was too big and it didn’t sparkle like the princess’s intricately set ring with its dusting of tiny diamonds around the large, flashing central stone. She wondered now where that piece of glass had come from, why her father had kept such a poor trinket, though thinking that seemed disloyal somehow.

  She picked up the piece of glass and put it in the palm of her hand, then, on a sudden impulse, hung it around her neck, tucking it under her nightgown. It felt cool on her skin and the string tickled the back of her neck. She felt better wearing this than the ring. It felt somehow right because it made her feel close to her father. After all, it might be worthless, but he had given it with love. The princess’s gift was more puzzling. As if she wanted something in return.

  There was a white square of moonlight on the floor. The blizzard had blown itself out. Sophie slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the window. She saw the waiting-to-be-shot statues, dressed against the frost in their wrappings of burlap. She saw the Volkonsky forest, stretching off as far as she could see.

  So that was where the last Princess Volkonskaya had fled with her child, that terrible night of her husband’s death. Sophie was not sure she could have left her home like that, to face such a perilous and uncertain future. But she did it for her child, Sophie told herself. Both the young prince and his brave wife had sacrificed everything they had to save the life of their child.

  As Sophie looked into the woods, wondering which path the princess had taken, she saw a single snow-covered statue at the edge of the tree line. How odd that it was on its own like that. She breathed on the glass and rubbed it clear of the frost flowers. What was it? A lion, crouched down on its haunches? No. Not big enough for a lion and the head was the wrong shape.

  As she watched, the statue unfolded itself, stood up, and threw back its head at the moon.

  A wolf!

  And now she saw that it wasn’t covered in snow … it was white. A white wolf! Just like the ones Ivan had told them about, that had once guarded the palace and avenged the murder of the prince!

  The howl climbed up her spine. This, this was the sound she had heard as they had walked through the decrepit palac
e, on their way to meet the princess. Desolate and wild.

  Should she be scared? Of course! The cry was even more savage than the one she had heard before. But why, then, did she feel more excited than frightened? It was as though she somehow understood, without knowing how, that this wolf was a guardian of the palace … that it might also have come to the palace to protect Princess Anna Feodorovna. Perhaps excitement was not such a strange emotion after all, when the imagined world of her dreams had come to life … when she had met a princess living alone in her deserted palace, the ghosts of her family all around her.

  Sophie pressed her face to the window and closed her eyes. More than anything, she felt suddenly that she wanted to be outside, in the snow, running wild with the wolf whose cry only she seemed to hear.

  But when she opened her eyes, the wolf had gone.

  “Geiiiiiiiiiii!”

  Ivan had the whip. Princess Volkonskaya tore the reins from his hands, laughing, and let the horse have his head.

  The furious snort of Viflyanka, the jangle of the bells, corresponded to the lurch of the vozok on the snow. The girls hung on to each other, their shawls tied tight around their faces. Sophie felt invigorated by the crisp, freezing air and being driven at such speed through the tremulous half-light, though she had reasoned it must be mid-morning by now. The windows of the palace slipped by, and Sophie turned her face upward to the light, snowflakes spiraling down onto her face and the bearskin that covered the girls.

  They had been woken by the princess herself, already dressed in a long coat, a white mink turban on her head. They had breakfasted on spiced apples, the princess telling them to hurry, and before they could finish, she had led them through corridors, tying lace, rather than a shawl, across her face against the cold.

  As Ivan had opened the wide front door to the morning twilight, the snow sparkled and the wind sighed. Sophie had thought about the wolf she had seen the night before. Should she say something? Surely, if there was a wolf in the woods, they would need to know?