CHAPTER EIGHTEEN The Hunt
Ivan stood immobile in the doorway.
“What has she done?” he said, shaking his head. “What has she done?”
“What do you mean, Ivan?” Sophie felt the palace splinter around her.
He hesitated, as if unsure what to say, then seemed to make a decision.
“When the princess returned to the palace,” he said slowly, “the wolves frightened her. Dmitri said they were used to the freedom of the forest. She went crazy. Said she’d throw his family out into the snow if he didn’t lock them up.
There’s a courtyard on the far side of the palace where they’re kept and Dmitri feeds them.
She wasn’t brave enough to have them killed — she said the Volkonskys would haunt her if she killed a wolf. ”
“But you said there were no wolves. You said that was all history!” Sophie put her arm out to the door to steady herself. “I told the princess I’d seen a wolf at the lake! You went to look and said there was nothing!” She looked up at Ivan’s troubled face.
“I saw the tracks,” Ivan said. “I knew then that there was still a wolf in the forest. But I couldn’t tell her.
It’s Dmitri’s job to keep them here, in the palace.
To feed them. Keep them quiet. If there was a wolf loose, the princess would have blamed him.
She wanted an excuse to get rid of him. I had to protect him. ”
Sophie remembered how sharply the princess had spoken to Dmitri when they had returned to the palace from the lake.
The three of them had stood under the portico, deep in discussion.
Of course! What had Masha said Dmitri did?
“Groom Viflyanka, feed the …” she had stopped before she said the word, but she knew. Everyone knew.
All these thoughts came to her in a heartbeat.
Ivan snapped out of his reverie. As if waking up from a dream, he only now seemed to be aware of the danger of their situation.
“Princess!” he cried as he ran down the stairs.
And before she could think about the danger she was about to put herself in, Sophie ran down the stairs after him.
“Sophie!” It was Delphine’s voice, wound tight with panic. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t leave us!” Marianne wailed.
But Sophie couldn’t cower in a room. They were going to hunt the wolf! And yet the creature was here in the palace because of the princess. He knew she was in danger from the general and he had come to save her. She couldn’t let the general hurt him.
“Lock the door!” she called over her shoulder.
She could see the blonde head of the princess and the black head of the general as they ran down the white balustraded staircase that threaded down below her.
There was no sign of Ivan or the wolf. She felt nothing other than the breath hurting her lungs as she lunged down the stairs, two at a time. Why couldn’t she move more quickly?
“Please let me get there,” Sophie said aloud. “Please don’t let them harm him.”
But the voices were becoming fainter and drifted into nothing. The palace was quiet now.
There were wolves in the palace. She had heard them. White Volkonsky wolves, just like the pack that had avenged the death of Prince Vladimir. But how could the princess be frightened of them? They were the guardians of the palace.
Sophie stopped. She had been running without thinking about where she was going: down long corridors, through dilapidated rooms, following the echoing voices.
They had led her on, but now they had stopped and she was lost. She was at the head of some stairs she didn’t recognize.
Statues in niches guarded every few steps, but some had been smashed and had fallen forward like dead men.
She looked back the way she had come. No.
It was hopeless. She could run for hours through empty rooms. Without any voices to follow, how could she even know where to start?
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a white mist at the far end of the corridor.
The creature hadn’t seen her, she knew, but she saw how the sense of her presence wrapped itself around him. And then, silently, he turned.
Weaving through the blank, cold statues, his red eyes now fixed entirely on her, came the white wolf.
Sophie pressed herself against the marble balustrade, trying to make herself as insignificant as possible, but her legs were giving way.
The blood swept around her head. There was a door across the corridor, but she would never make it there in time.
And anyway, would it even be open? Or would it be locked?
Could she jump? She peered over the balustrade and the floor leaped up toward her.
She thought of herself falling, loose, easy, through the air …
and landing like one of the broken statues.
The animal came on, his jaw hanging open.
He was hungry and desperate, but Sophie sensed his strength, the muscle and bone, and the terrible, shocking length of his teeth, bared now.
He could see all around him, Sophie knew, and beyond, too, as if he could enter every room in the palace at the same time. A different way of seeing.
He stopped a few feet away. How could Sophie tell him that she was no threat to the Volkonskys? That he should not harm her?
And then, behind him, appeared the princess.
Sophie, so intent on the wolf, hadn’t seen her creeping silently up the corridor. She held her tiny pistol in her two hands and took aim: Sophie could see the black pout of the barrel. What was she doing?
“Don’t shoot!” Sophie tried to say, but her voice was just a croak.
The wolf, still motionless, snarled.
The princess flexed her hands around the pistol, became perfectly still.
She was preparing with ruthless precision to take her shot, slowing her heart, controlling her breathing so she would not miss.
Except — Sophie looked at the barrel — the pistol was surely too high for the bullet to hit the wolf.
It was on the same level as Sophie’s eyes …
“Princess … Nyet!”
It was Ivan, a hunting rifle on his shoulder, his hand outstretched, pushing the princess’s pistol away.
Crack!
Sophie stared at the floor. The wolf was on his side at her feet, the blood pooling on the floor. He tried to raise his head, but the effort was too much. He whimpered, and the sound was so pitiful when compared to the power of his howl that Sophie wanted to cry.
“Saboteur!” screamed the princess. “You’ve ruined everything!”
Ivan, chisel-jawed, his face drained of color, muttered, “I have ruined nothing. I am giving you a choice, Princess.”
The princess raised her pistol as if she would smash it across his temple. Ivan stood his ground. And then, a horrible sound: The princess laughed at him. Beneath it, Sophie heard another, quieter noise. A moan or a whimper.
The wolf. He was not dead! He lumbered to his feet despite the wound, and limped down the staircase with a yelp of pain, blood pouring from his side.
“Still alive?” The general strode up the corridor. He leaned over the balustrade and aimed his pistol.
Sophie threw herself at the man. The pistol fired with a quiet, velvety pop. A statue toppled and fell. Sophie saw the startled wolf run on.
The general shook her off. “You stupid little wolf girl!” he whispered. “What do you think you’re doing? A wounded wolf is more dangerous than a healthy one.”
From deep inside the palace, the howling started up. The Volkonsky wolves! Terrified, but understanding their cries, Sophie listened as these creatures began their wild chorus, no longer content to be written off as characters in a fairy tale. Their cries blended, twined, and fell apart.
“They know!” Sophie cried. “They know what you’ve done!”
“We saved you!” The princess’s eyes flashed. “Without us here, you would have been torn to pieces!”
The general shoved Sophie roughly away. “Ivan! It’s time to leave these weeping women. Get that boy. He can become a man.” He smiled at Sophie, a twist of his lips. “This time, without the little wolf girl, we’ll shoot them all.”
“Don’t you dare!” Sophie screamed into the man’s smiling face. “Don’t you touch the wolves! Don’t you harm them! They are here to protect the princess … from you! They are guardians of the palace! You can’t shoot them!”
The general didn’t seem remotely bothered by her outburst. “Princess?” he said to the woman standing next to him. “What do you think we should do with this noisy English girl? She’s quite useless!”
He gave her an unfathomable look before turning to run down the stairs.
“You’ve got to stop him, Princess!” Sophie cried.
“But what can I do? The general likes to hunt,” she said, her eyes following him.
“But you! How could you hurt a Volkonsky wolf?” Sophie felt the tears splash onto her face. “They live to protect you!”
“But you must understand,” the princess said, “I couldn’t leave that creature loose!” She laughed, but sounded nervous. “It was for your safety!”
“What do you mean?” Sophie felt the room spin. “He wasn’t going to hurt anyone!”
The princess shook her head slowly. “If only that were true,” she whispered.
“But I have seen a wolf when he kills. He would not be kind.” She leaned toward Sophie.
“You think it would be quick? One bite and it’s all over?
Not with a wolf. A snap, a bite, and he would sit and wait, watching you bleed before he came and licked up the pool of your blood. Tell me, would you enjoy that?”
Sophie stared at the beautiful face, lips as red as wolf blood.
“If only I could find the diamonds, Sophie” — the princess put her hand to Sophie’s face and moved a strand of hair out of her eyes — “I could live here happily, with no worry for the future. We could be friends!”
She glanced at the wolf’s blood on the floor. “I am sorry about today. The general has made me a little crazy with his demands for money … What I need now is a friend.”
She smiled, but it made her face look unbearably sad. “Just one friend,” she whispered. “I had hoped it would be you …”
“Tell him to go!” Sophie said. “Tell him to leave you alone!”
“Only if you will stay.” The princess was already moving toward the stairs. “And help me?”
As the princess ran after the general, Sophie leaned against the wall. How could she help this woman?