“Oh, go to hell, Ivan Tsarevich!” she flings, now rubbing the forehead she’s just bumped against one of the walls.
I sigh audibly, which causes the floor to quake a little.
“Will you stop that?” she calls in a sullen voice.
Again, I sigh, and it’s louder this time. She staggers for balance on the floor that’s now moving.
“Sorry…” I mutter.
It’s not my fault I can move on my chicken legs. It’s Baba Yaga’s fault. I think I’m the only house in the world that has chicken legs. Though I heard there are other houses that can move.
“No, I’m sorry, Izbushka…” she says, finally sitting down on one of the three-legged wooden stools.
I know she’s nervous and upset. Who wouldn’t be? She knows her grandmother’s away somewhere, flying in her mortar among the clouds. Marya’s home alone. Well, not quite alone if you count me. But I don’t know if I really count. I’m the home. Literally.
“Do you think I’m a homey home?” I suddenly ask Marya.
Sometimes I get anxious. I’m not even a proper house. I’ve got these chicken legs that look ugly. The rest of me is pretty nice though. A thatched roof that’s just wonderful, polished floors and flower pots in the windows. Marya insisted I have flower pots. Baba Yaga wanted skulls. But Marya prevailed. Skulls in the fence, but flower pots in the windows.
“Of course you’re a homey home, Izbushka,” Marya says reassuringly.
She knows she has to keep me calm when I’m anxious. It’s actually in her best interest. If I get anxious I tend to fidget on my chicken legs and it’s not pleasant. Our visitors suffer from motion sickness. Not Baba Yaga or Marya of course. Baba Yaga’s a natural flyer. And Marya…Well, Marya’s not a natural flyer, but…
“Where is babushka?” Marya mutters, obviously returning to what’s bothering her right now.
I keep my mouth shut. Because Baba Yaga has forbidden me to say anything. She’s officially gone away and left her granddaughter in charge. And now Ivan Tsarevich is coming. The Ivan Tsarevich. Everyone’s heard of him of course. He’s the one who caught the firebird and put her in a cage. He’s the one who killed the Immortal Koschei. And for a while he was married to the Frog Princess. But that didn’t work.
I look at Marya speculatively. Ivan Tsarevich is now single and eligible. And Baba Yaga has conveniently left her in charge while she’s away. Still, Baba Yaga’s not really away. But I have to keep my mouth shut about that.
“When is he coming?” I ask, trying to steer Marya’s mind away from Baba Yaga.
“He’ll be here in less than a quarter of an hour,” Marya mutters, glancing sideways at the bucket of water that’s on the table.
I already know she can see Ivan Tsarevich’s reflection in the water, riding on his grey wolf and getting dangerously closer to where we are.
“What am I going to do?” Marya asks herself exasperatedly.
I shrug, making the pots on the wall rattle. We both know Marya’s no good at magic. And it’s magic that Ivan Tsarevich is coming for. Although I have no idea what else on earth he needs magic for. He already has everything he could possibly dream of. Unless he’s come about a wife. Since he’s single now, he’ll be needing a wife. And Ivan Tsarevich won’t settle for any kind of wife, of course. It’s probably a magic wife he wants, so he probably needs powerful magic to get her.
“Maybe he just wants an artefact or something,” Marya says in a voice that strives to be full of hope.
Yes, an artefact will be easy. Marya won’t have to do anything much. Just hand him the artefact. Baba Yaga’s already left her the key to her magic trunk and there is plenty of good stuff in there. But the good stuff tends to be tricky.
“You need to handle the artefacts carefully,” I remind her.
Marya frowns, obviously remembering the fiasco that took place three weeks ago. Baba Yaga asked her to fetch the magic comb from the trunk. And Marya did so, but she looked at the comb a little bit too insistently. And the comb, being very sensitive, just jumped out of her hand and threw itself out of my window. It was not enough that we’re deep in the woods. The comb just turned itself into a thick wall of leaves and branches around us that no one could penetrate, and Baba Yaga had to spend an entire night simply chewing away at it. You don’t just wish away magic combs. You have to get rid of them physically. And there’s no sword or axe that’s sharper than Baba Yaga’s teeth. I still wonder sometimes how such an old woman can have such strong teeth. But then I remember that Baba Yaga’s no ordinary old woman.
“Bloody hell…” Marya says, looking despondently at Ivan Tsarevich’s broad-shouldered figure riding his grey wolf.
My eyes are my windows, and I can switch perspectives inside or outside whenever I want. I look outside and spot a figure among the thick trees. It’s riding slowly and more carefully now, because our woods are dark and deep.
“He’s almost here!” I tell Marya.
She scuttles away to the back room, binding her long raven black hair with a flowery kerchief that makes her look passably attractive. It’s without it that Marya looks stunning though. Her shiny long hair is her crowning glory. I open my mouth to say something, but I clamp it shut. Marya has already narrowed her eyes at me, since she is anticipating a comment.
“I’m babushka’s replacement!” she says, pointedly squaring her shoulders.
That’s what Baba Yaga told Marya before she allegedly left. That she should act in her stead and make her proud. Baba Yaga’s legacy has to be carried on, she proclaimed, conveniently omitting to spell out that Marya doesn’t seem to possess the slightest talent for witchcraft. And Marya knows it, but doesn’t have the heart to tell her babushka so. She puts up with all of Baba Yaga’s attempts to teach her witchcraft. All such attempts end in disaster, but both she and her grandmother turn a blind eye to them, as if they didn’t even happen.
With a decisive gesture, Marya ties an apron round her waist and seats herself in Baba Yaga’s old rocking chair. She does not look confident in the least, but she knows she has no choice. Ivan Tsarevich is Baba Yaga’s most famous visitor. If word ever gets out that he didn’t get exactly what he wanted, it will be bad for Baba Yaga’s reputation.
I switch my perspective, because I can hear commotion outside. Ivan Tsarevich is already standing in front of me, while the grey wolf is crouching by his side.
“Izbushka, turn around and let me in!” he calls in a deep, manly voice.
He’s obviously been here before. My door is on the other side, so I’ll have to turn to face him. I don’t like being told what to do though, unless it’s Baba Yaga or Marya.
“What should I do?” I ask Marya rather sullenly.
“You know what to do,” she retorts with an apologetic shrug.
She is aware it’s not a good idea to refuse Ivan Tsarevich admittance. What Ivan Tsarevich wants, he usually gets.
Sighing, I turn to face the visitor and lower myself on my chicken legs. However, I throw my door open with a mutinous crash.
Ivan Tsarevich arches one golden eyebrow at the effrontery, but nevertheless steps in, leaving his grey wolf outside.
He strides in decisively, and my floorboards groan under his heavy steps. He’s a big tall man, with a narrow waist and impossibly broad shoulders. His hair is thick and golden and his eyes a vivid blue. No wonder so many women have swooned after him. Baba Yaga’s imbued me with enough humanity so I can appreciate these things. She’s given me the body of a house, the legs of a chicken, but a woman’s heart and soul. And as Ivan Tsarevich walks inside, the heart that’s buried deep below my foundation starts thumping like mad.
“Where’s Baba Yaga?” he calls, when his sky blue gaze falls on Marya.
“Away. On urgent business,” Marya says, attempting a tremulous smile.
She’s obviously nervous, and her eyes keep darting to the magic trunk.
“Who are you?” Ivan asks with a frown.
Marya looks flustered and stammers. The thought of performing magic always makes her nervous.
“I’m Mmm….”
She swallows hard, then begins again.
“I’m Baba Yaga’s apprentice,” she eventually says.
That’s such an overstatement, I feel like bursting into laughter. But Ivan Tsarevich is not amused. He stares at Marya with a displeased look on his handsome countenance.
“When is she getting back?” he asks.
“Honestly…I have no idea…” Marya says, slumping her shoulders.
As she rises, I can see Ivan Tsarevich’s blue eyes widen at her. Marya’s a tall woman, only half a head shorter than him. I can see his eyes roaming over her figure. And the displeasure suddenly flies away from his face.
“I’ll wait for Baba Yaga for as long as it takes,” he says, with a mild shrug.
Marya widens her eyes at him.
“I don’t know when she’ll be back…Perhaps…perhaps I can help you…”
I wince. No. Helping Ivan Tsarevich is not a good idea. I have the dire feeling this time Marya attempts to do witchcraft, she’s really going to set me on fire. I’m mainly made of wood, so it might be the end of me.
“Help me?” Ivan Tsarevich says and his voice sounds like a deep purr to me.
Marya nods miserably. She seems oblivious to his meaning. All she seems to be thinking about is her ineptitude at performing magic.
Ivan Tsarevich peruses her appreciatively. Marya’s not a dainty girl. She’s strong and muscular, rather than slender and graceful. A handsome woman, rather than a pretty one. With her raven black hair unbound and in her proper clothes, she’d look absolutely magnificent.
“You can help by keeping me company,” he says arrogantly. “I’ll wait for Baba Yaga.”
Only I can see the brief flash of anger in Marya’s eyes. She hides it quickly and shrugs in resignation.
“As you wish,” she says stiffly.
Ivan Tsarevich doesn’t seem to need further prompting. He puts down the heavy sack he’s been carrying and unbuckles the belt of his sword, negligently flinging it in a corner. Its cold clank makes me shudder.
He critically inspects our oven. It’s a big old brick oven that has a red mattress on top, big enough for both Marya and Baba Yaga to share. But apparently, it’s not fancy enough for Ivan Tsarevich.
“This will do,” he says in a resigned voice, as he climbs on it.
Marya simply stares at him.
“I’m weary from my journey,” he tells her tersely. “Just have our meal ready when I wake up.”
With that he drifts into sleep.
Marya looks around helplessly, and I hear a merry cackle in my ear. I obviously know where Baba Yaga is, without having to look at the yellow flower pot that’s in my window.
“Just as I wanted,” Baba Yaga whispers.
I fidget on my chicken legs, not knowing what to do. Baba Yaga’s turned herself into a flower and she’s spying on Marya. She has big plans for her granddaughter, she told me mysteriously. I can guess that these plans involve Ivan Tsarevich. If she marries him, Marya will be a tsarina one day. And, I must confess, the man is very easy on the eye. Still, I feel uneasy about this whole arrangement.
Marya has noticed me fidgeting and she heaves a heartfelt sigh.
“I know…I know…”she says. “We must treat our guest accordingly, to make babushka proud of us.”
There’s a small stove at the other end of the room that she goes to.
“Do you think a tsar’s son will be happy with our kasha?” she asks dubiously.
I shudder. Marya’s not only a completely inept witch. She’s a completely inept cook. Baba Yaga is a splendid cook, of course, and she takes care of all the meals. But Baba Yaga isn’t technically here. The merry cackle resounds in my ears again.
“You’re an evil old woman,” I mutter under my breath, hoping Marya won’t hear me.
“Just wait and see…” Baba Yaga whispers into my ear.
As Marya busies herself with the kasha, a sudden storm begins to rage, and the skies just open. But I don’t have time to wonder if Baba Yaga’s truly responsible for conjuring it. There’s scratching at my door and whining.
“It’s the wolf,” I tell Marya. “Ivan Tsarevich’s wolf. What should I do?”
“Let him in, for heaven’s sake!” Marya says. “It’s pouring outside!”
I reluctantly do so. I’m used to magic beasts, but I’ve never accommodated a magic wolf. Marya seems unconcerned though and Baba Yaga whispers in my ear that it’s fine to let the wolf in, so I do as I’m told.
The wolf saunters in, shaking its wet grey fur on my clean floors. It’s a big, mean looking wolf with a starving air on him and I don’t like it. And I like even less what happens next. He stretches on the floor and then just suddenly steps out of his wolf skin. Quick as a flash. Now there’s a naked man standing on the floor, carrying a wolf skin in his hand.
Marya turns at him in surprise. Of course, as Baba Yaga’s granddaughter, she’s used to magic beasts and shape shifters. But I bet that’s the first magic wolf shifter she’s ever seen.
She just gapes at him, and I find myself blushing. He’s completely naked and he hasn’t even bothered to tie the wolf skin around his waist. In my ear, I hear Baba Yaga chuckling like mad. I attempt to avert my eyes, but I can’t. And apparently neither can Marya.
“Oh…Just cover yourself!” she eventually tells him in vexation.
The man shrugs and deigns to tie the wolf skin around his waist.
“Better?” he asks, cocking a dark eyebrow at Marya.
He is a dark, lean man, with the same starving look about him that he had when he was a wolf. He’s got a rugged face slashed by a white scar and a pair of very black penetrating eyes. As he steps closer to Marya, I notice he’s even taller than Ivan Tsarevich.
“Who are you?” he asks in a snarling, gravelly voice.
Marya glares at him.
“Shouldn’t I ask you this?” she says pointedly.
He shrugs then goes to the corner where Ivan Tsarevich deposited his sack. He rummages into the sack and takes out a bunch of rumpled clothes. He turns to Marya once he’s fully dressed in a well-worn dusty grey tunic and breeches.
“I’m Andriy,” he says tersely, glancing at the stove with his penetrating black gaze.
“You’re a Cossack?” Marya asks, studying the cut of his clothes.
Andriy doesn’t answer. He peers over Marya’s shoulder at the stove.
“This doesn’t look like kasha,” he comments.
“Mind your own business,” Marya snaps.
Andriy doesn’t seem offended by her tone. He just grins at her. A wolfish grin.
“It is my business. I’m hungry and I haven’t had time to hunt today,” he says mildly.
Marya raises her eyebrows at him.
“Are you threatening to gobble me up?”
Andriy’s eyes roam on Marya’s figure, but, unlike Ivan Tsarevich’s gaze from earlier before, his eyes return to look Marya directly in the face.
“That’s tempting…” he tells her in his gravelly voice. “Though I don’t really know your name.”
I watch in astonishment as Marya returns Andriy’s gaze, letting her own eyes shamelessly roam on his figure. I’ve never really seen this look on her face. It’s a different look. One that’s just as hungry as that of the wolf in front of her.
“Do you always ask for your victims’ name before you devour them?” she asks in a low voice.
“Who says they’re victims?” Andriy counters.
He doesn’t wait for Marya to reply, but pushes her gently away from the stove.
“I’ll take care of the meal,” he says in a voice that leaves no room for argument.
Marya opens her mouth to protest, but she seems to change her mind, as Andriy begins to stir the kasha expertly. She then watches his every move with a transfixed look on her face. Andriy really seems to know what he’s doing.
“Thank the stars you haven’t added anything yet,” he tells her, tossing in a generous pinch of salt.
He seems perfectly at ease around the stove and now busies himself chopping the mushrooms and onions.
“There’s no meat today,” Marya tells him in a voice that sounds vaguely apologetic.
Andriy shrugs, concentrating on his task.
“It’s fine. I can do without it when I’m in human form.”
“Were you always….?” Marya starts asking.
“Both wolf and human? Yes,” Andriy says with his wolfish grin.
“So this is not a curse then?”
Andriy pauses for a while, and his face suddenly looks grim.
“No, I’ve always been able to be both man and wolf at will. I’m a shape shifter. So this is not my curse.”
Marya’s eyes dart to the oven bed where Ivan Tsarevich is snoring loudly.
“Is he…your master?”
There is a long pause before Andriy answers.
“Yes,” he says in a hard voice.
He goes back to his task, working in silence, while Marya’s eyes rest on him. There’s still silence between them when Ivan Tsarevich wakes up, rubbing his eyes.
“You should have stayed outside as I told you,” he barks at Andriy as soon as he spots him.
Andriy stares at some point away from Ivan Tsarevich and answers in a blank voice.
“It’s raining outside.”
Ivan Tsarevich mutters under his breath and comes to seat himself at the table.
“So, where’s my food?” he asks Marya, who ladles kasha into three bowls.
Ivan Tsarevich studies the fare critically.
“That’s all there is?” he scoffs, but nevertheless starts eating hungrily.
I see Marya widen her eyes as she takes the first spoonful of kasha.
“It’s delicious,” she tells Andriy, who nods in return.
Ivan Tsarevich doesn’t seem pleased by the exchange.
“After you’ve had your meal, you are to go back outside!” he flings at Andriy.
“He can stay here. I don’t mind. The storm’s not over yet,” Marya counters.
Ivan Tsarevich ignores her and stares hard at Andriy, who just shrugs.
“As you wish,” Andriy says quietly.
He gets up and goes out into the storm as soon as he finishes his meal, without sparing Ivan or Marya another glance. Anger is now blazing in Marya’s eyes and I watch with interest. Marya doesn’t get angry often, but when she does…Ivan Tsarevich glances at her, apparently oblivious.
“We were talking about you keeping me company,” he says with a winsome smile.
I must admit again he’s easy on the eye, but at this point I dislike him intensely. He’s an arrogant, overbearing bastard. In my ear, Baba Yaga chuckles again. And I hate her. How could she be thinking of Marya and this man?
Marya glares at him and springs to her feet. A lock of shiny dark hair has escaped her flowery kerchief.
“Fancy that…You’re prettier than I thought,” Ivan Tsarevich tells her, widening his smile into a grin.
But his grin gradually fades and he starts yawning profusely.
“Whatever did you put in that kasha?” he mutters sleepily and suddenly collapses on the floor.
Baba Yaga chuckles maliciously.
“I don’t understand!” I mutter under my breath.
But perhaps I do understand. Baba Yaga saw Marya was already getting angry, so she defused the situation by putting Ivan Tsarevich to sleep. I don’t have time to think about it too much though.
The storm outside has miraculously stopped and Marya steps outside hastily.
“Andriy!” she calls.
There’s no answer, but she calls again, louder this time. I can’t see that well in the dark, but my windows are lit. The darkened silhouette that approaches Marya is human. So Andriy hasn’t shifted back to wolf form.
“Come inside now. He’s fallen asleep!” Marya tells him.
I can’t see Andriy’s expression, but I can hear his gravelly voice.
“I thought you wanted to be alone.”
“With him?!” Marya asks incredulously.
Andryi nods.
“Women are usually attracted to him. My sister was…”
He pauses abruptly.
“What happened to your sister?” Marya asks urgently.
“It doesn’t matter,” Andryi says in a stony voice.
But Marya puts her hand on his shoulder. Andriy falls suddenly still, as if the touch had frozen him into place.
“Come inside,” Marya tells him.
She decisively takes him by the hand and he has no choice but to follow her. In my ear, Baba Yaga is now chattering animatedly.
“Shut up!” I hiss at her. “I want to hear what’s going on.”
Andriy has no choice but to step inside. He studies Ivan Tsarevich’s snoring, crumpled form with a disgusted look on his face.
“Is he drunk?” he asks contemptuously.
Marya shakes her head.
“No. I don’t really know what’s happened. It might have been me.”
“You?!”
Marya sighs.
“I’m hopeless at magic, you see, but I do have magic blood in my veins. Perhaps the magic in me decided to finally act by itself. Maybe I just put him to sleep.”
Baba Yaga lets out an ironic cackle. And Andriy is suddenly alert.
“Did you hear that?” he asks.
“What?!”
He shakes his head.
“In my human form, my hearing’s not as good as when I’m wolf. But I could have sworn I heard someone.”
I decide to save the situation and clear my throat.
“Oh,” Marya says. “That’s Izbushka.”
“The house?!” Andriy asks incredulously. “It also talks?!”
Marya shrugs apparently unconcerned.
“You were telling me about your sister,” she reminds him pointedly.
Andriy rakes a hand through his dark hair and I follow Marya’s gaze on him. There’s not only curiosity there, but something more. She’s looking at him as if she’s seeing a man for the first time. I stare at Andriy, taking in his ragged, lean and hungry look. In my opinion, he doesn’t hold a candle to Ivan Tsarevich, but apparently Marya doesn’t seem to think so.
“My sister…She was married to Ivan Tsarevich,” Andriy eventually says.
I suppress a whistle. I did not see that coming.
“Not Vasilisa Tsarevna?” Marya asks in astonishment.
She’s also known as Vasilisa the Wise, but most people call her the Frog Princess. Everyone knows the story. How she impressed Ivan Tsarevich and his family with her magic. How Ivan married her, even though she was a frog by day and a princess only by night. How he broke the enchantment by killing the Immortal Koschei for her. But no one knows why the marriage did not work. It’s all a big secret.
Andriy nods.
“Same mother, different fathers,” he answers Marya’s unspoken question. “But we’re both shape shifters.”
Marya raises her eyebrows.
“Your sister’s a shape shifter? But everyone thinks the Frog Princess was cursed by the wizard Koschei!”
Andriy shakes his head.
“No, that’s not how it really was.”
Marya looks at him expectantly, but he waves his hand, looking around the room. His mouth thins when his eyes return on Ivan Tsarevich’s prone form.
“I’m bound to him, you know. I had to take a blood oath and I can’t break it!” he says and his voice sounds like a snarl again. “This makes me unable to act against him. I can’t protect you from him!”
I see Marya widen her eyes. Baba Yaga is desperately trying to suppress helpless giggles and I start coughing in the attempt to cover the noise.
“I don’t need protection,” Marya tells Andriy, but I can see she’s moved.
Andriy is actually the first man in the world who’s ever mentioned protection to Marya. And, fancy that, she’s not upset with him. She actually seems moved. She clasps Andriy’s hand in her own.
“Thank you for saying it though,” she tells him.
He gives a rueful laugh, then suddenly pauses to stare at her with those black eyes of his. He might not hold a candle to Ivan Tsarevich, but I have to admit he does have fine eyes.
“Don’t mention it,” he says in his gravelly voice. “I’m just useless.”
Marya shakes her head and as she does so, another thick black lock escapes the flowery kerchief she’s wearing. She ineffectually attempts to brush it away, but Andriy’s hand comes to touch it and his fingers just entwine around it. His other hand just loosens Marya’s kerchief and her raven black hair comes cascading on her shoulders.
Andriy’s holding his breath, fascinated by the transformation. With the kerchief on, Marya seemed just an ordinarily attractive girl. Without it, she is simply herself.
“Kiss her, you fool, just kiss her,” Baba Yaga mutters in my ear.
But Andriy is still staring at Marya in wonder.
“Now I know who you are,” he finally tells her. “You’re Marya Morevna!”
Marya smiles and it’s a dazzling smile I’ve never seen before.
“Does it matter?” she asks with a slight shrug.
Andriy seems at a loss what to say.
“No…Yes…” he mutters in that gravelly voice of his.
But Marya doesn’t seem interested in what he has to say. She just pulls him to her and captures his lips with hers. At first he seems reluctant to kiss her, but then he wraps his arms around her. He deepens the kiss and Marya just melts against him.
I’m speechless. And then, as the kiss grows even deeper, I don’t know what to do. I just hope they don’t mean to take this any further. Because, honestly, I have nowhere to hide if things escalade.
Mercifully, it is at this moment that Ivan Tsarevich chooses to wake up with an undignified start. Marya and Andriy hastily spring apart, but Ivan is soon watching them sharply.
“Just get out!” he barks at Andriy.
The look Andriy is now casting him is very dark and full of hatred. There is a searing snarl on his lips and a feral countenance that reminds me he’s not only man but also wolf. He stands his ground, looking at Ivan Tsarevich unflinchingly. Ivan Tsarevich returns the look, and he places his hand on a pouch that’s hanging by a string around his neck.
“Get out,” he says and his voice is very calm now.
Marya is watching the exchange.
“Andriy, what sway does he have on you?” she asks urgently, but Andriy just shakes his head angrily and turns on his heel.
Marya attempts to go after him, but Ivan Tsarevich halts her with a gesture.
“It’s in his best interest that you stay,” he says pleasantly.
Marya looks at him, arms akimbo. Her dark hair is now flowing freely and her green eyes blazing with anger.
“Prettier than I thought,” Ivan Tsarevich tells her, seating himself on a wooden stool. “But not worth my while, after all…”
He negligently fingers the pouch he wears slung around his neck.
“What’s in the pouch?” Marya asks. “Something you’ve been blackmailing Andriy with?”
I make the yellow flower pot slightly shake, to let Baba Yaga know that it’s high time she intervened, but for once the old lady is absolutely silent.
Ivan Tsarevich just shrugs.
“That’s none of your business,” he says in the same pleasant voice as before. “I’m getting tired of waiting and it turns out you’re not fit company. When is Baba Yaga due back?”
“I told you, I have no idea,” Marya answers in a wooden voice.
Ivan Tsarevich sighs.
“I’m really getting tired of waiting,” he tells Marya pointedly and there’s no mistaking his meaning.
What Ivan Tsarevich wants, Ivan Tsarevich gets. And it’s bad for everyone if he gets displeased. But Marya doesn’t seem to care about pleasing him anymore. She’s truly angry, as I’ve never seen her before, and she’s barely holding her temper. She manages to keep her voice calm though.
“What do you want Baba Yaga for?” she asks.
“As you know, I’m now single,” Ivan Tsarevich tells her with a wink. “And I’m in need of a wife, but not just any kind of wife…”
Here we go. Just as I thought. I’m so disgusted that I start to fidget on my chicken legs and Ivan Tsarevich falls off the low stool he’s been sitting on. He gets up with a curse.
“Tell that bloody freak of a house to hold still!” he shouts.
“Izbushka, please!” Marya calls to me, and I can hear her voice is deadly calm now.
I struggle to keep still, as Baba Yaga whispers in my ear that it’s better to obey Marya.
“So, what wife did you have in mind?” Marya asks, raising her dark eyebrows at Ivan Tsarevich.
He rewards her with his winsome grin, but I no longer think it that winsome.
“Everyone’s heard of the mighty Marya Morevna…No one has really ever tried to woo her. So, I think I’ll be up to the task, with just a little help from Baba Yaga,” he says.
It’s Marya’s turn to smile and it’s not the dazzling smile that she gave Andriy before. It’s a cold, frightening smile.
“What if I could help you get Marya Morevna?” she asks him.
“You?! Baba Yaga’s apprentice…” Ivan Tsarevich drawls contemptuously. “I think not.”
“Let me remind you that Baba Yaga’s not here,”
It’s a long moment before Ivan Tsarevich answers and he’s not pleased.
“What could you do to help me? Give me some ill-advised magic potion?” he scoffs.
Marya shakes her head.
“No. I’m able to bring Marya Morevna here, in the flesh, but I need something in return.”
Ivan Tsarevich arches one golden eyebrow and looks at her expectantly.
“That pouch you’ve been blackmailing Andriy with,” she says quietly.
“No,” he replies and holds her gaze.
“Then I won’t be able to help you.”
Ivan Tsarevich bursts into laughter.
“You forget who you’re speaking to!”
Marya doesn’t answer. Her green eyes are sparkling with intent. She steps back and fetches the sword Ivan Tsarevich flung in the corner when he arrived.
“And what are you going to do with that?” he asks indulgently.
Marya just tosses it to him and he catches it expertly. With a look of sheer astonishment on his face, he watches her as she goes to the large trunk at the back of the room. That’s not our magic trunk, just an ordinary one.
“I’m challenging you for the pouch,” she says after she’s found what she’s been looking for.
I know what to do, and I instantly throw my door open. And Baba Yaga also knows what to do. The skulls in the fence that surrounds me are not merely for decoration. They’re actually lights. There’s a piece of star in every one of them that can be lit, just like a candle. And now it’s no longer dark outside, but everything looks as if it were daylight. Marya calmly steps outside, gleaming sword in hand, green eyes flashing. And Ivan Tsarevich just follows her, with a mystified look on his face.
“You know you can’t possibly win against me. I’ve never been defeated in a fair fight,” he tells her with a frown on his handsome face.
Marya gives a short laugh, and swiftly slashes her long skirt, ripping it carelessly. Her long legs are now bare and unhampered by the folds of her garment.
“Fancy that. Neither have I,” she says in a soft voice.
Ivan Tsarevich doesn’t seem to hear her. His eyes are now glued on Marya’s long legs.
“Maybe I’ll have one more reward when I win,” he tells her smugly.
But the smug smirk gets wiped off his face as Marya’s sword clashes with his. And soon he’s struggling to parry the lightening-like blows that begin to rain upon him.
“Who are you?!” he asks breathlessly.
Marya doesn’t answer. She concentrates on her task, like a graceful dancer who knows every step and move of the choreography. When Ivan Tsarevich’s sword falls on the grass, he just stares at it dumbly. And he continues to stare dumbly as Marya’s sword suddenly severs the string of the pouch around his neck.
“I’ll keep this,” Marya says quietly, closing her fingers around the pouch.
“You’re Marya Morevna!” Ivan Tsarevich babbles at last, and Marya just nods.
It’s then that Baba Yaga decides to chatter in my ear.
“Marya Morevna, the greatest warrior princess in this world…who’s defeated whole armies single-handedly. And the fool thought he could have her!”
Oh, so now she’s back! She deserted us when we needed her, and now she’s suddenly back. I decide not to listen to what Baba Yaga’s saying. I’m just watching Marya. And I know Marya’s upset. And I know why. Because she’s made a promise to herself, because she’s been trying to turn her life around and let go of the sword. So much blood and heartache, that’s what she said when she locked her sword away in the trunk. She’s been trying hard to put all of it behind her. For more than half a year she’s been struggling to make a different life for herself at her grandmother’s house. And now she’s broken her promise of never picking up a sword ever again.
It’s on this scene that Andriy comes running. He’s not man this time, but wolf. Ivan Tsarevich is staring in petrified wonder, while Marya is despondently looking at her sword. She raises her eyes when Andriy snarls at Ivan, and she holds out the pouch.
“See, Andriy, you’re free now!” she says and her voice sounds both sad and relieved.
Ivan Tsarevich is now white as a sheet as the wolf menacingly approaches him, ready to pounce. It will only take a moment. I’ve never seen wolves kill, but I know for certain that the killing rage is upon Andriy. He’s big and strong, and I doubt even Ivan Tsarevich will be able to put up much of a fight. But Marya suddenly speaks in a tired voice:
“Please, don’t do this…Just let him go. Let him go!”
Andriy cocks his ears. He snarls ferociously, and for a moment I think he won’t heed Marya. But that’s only for a moment. He then casts Ivan Tsarevich a burning black look, then dashes to the dark woods behind.
Her head hung, her shoulders slumped, Marya turns on her heel and steps inside. Ivan Tsarevich recovers enough to follow her.
“Marya Morevna…Forgive me, forgive me…I just didn’t recognize you. But you’re magnificent…A word, a word if you please…”
I know what to do. I slam my door shut in his face and turn around. Now my door is on the other side. For what seems like a long while, I can hear him pleading from outside, and his voice grows hoarse. But after an hour or so I can hear his voice no more.
“Maybe the wolf really ate him!” I say and my voice sounds full of hope.
Marya rewards me with a teary smile. She’s been crying for a while now and I’m cross with Baba Yaga. She doesn’t seem to care. And she’s no longer even in her flower pot. It seems she’s simply vanished.
“You shouldn’t be upset. All’s well. Andriy’s free now!” I say consolingly.
“I know. I’m truly happy!” Marya says, but her eyes are still brimming with tears.
And at this moment she’s not Marya Morevna. She’s just Marya, who always bungles magic potions and who hasn’t ever been really able to cook. And she’s insecure.
“But he’ll hate me now!” she tells me.
“Who?! Ivan Tsarevich?” I ask, mystified.
“No!”
It now dawns on me that she’s talking about Andriy.
“Why should Andriy hate you?! You just set him free…”
“Yes, but I made him feel helpless…I cheated him of his revenge!”
Yes, I can see now Marya has a point. Men are usually afraid of Marya Morevna. And Marya Morevna has actually shown Andriy how superfluous men can be to her. But I don’t have time to dwell upon the thought. There’s a gravelly voice urging me to turn round and open my door for him. And I swiftly do so, knowing it’s better to let Andriy in, rather than keep him outside.
When he steps in, he has a dark scowl on his scarred face.
“You shouldn’t have asked me to let him go! That was a mistake!” he flings at Marya.
She just hangs her head and wordlessly hands him the pouch that’s been lying on the table.
Andriy heaves a heartfelt sigh. His anger seems to have somewhat melted.
“Thank you, Marya. Truly, thank you…But it was wrong to let Ivan Tsarevich go,” he says, in a voice that sounds gentler.
“What’s in the pouch?” she asks.
I watch with interest as Andriy carefully opens the pouch. There’s a small robin egg in it.
“There’s a small needle inside that egg. And my sister’s soul lies inside that needle. If you break the needle, my sister will die.”
Marya stares at him, and Andriy smiles bitterly.
“I told her Ivan Tsarevich was not to be trusted…But she fell for him. And when he asked her to give him her soul, she really did. What she expected was that he’d give her his soul in return. She thought they would love and trust each other forever. But he broke her trust. He stole her soul and cast her away. Then he used it to keep me bound to him. I had no choice but to do his bidding – if I did not, he would destroy my sister. I challenged him for the pouch, but he laughed in my face and threatened to smash it between his fingers if I lunged at him. He would not fight a magic wolf needlessly, since he had no further use for my sister, he told me with a careless laugh. But he had further use of my services. So I took a binding oath to serve him for as long as he remained the rightful owner of the pouch. In return, he promised he would not destroy what he held.”
I can see now why Andriy wanted Ivan Tsarevich dead, and so does Marya.
“Forgive me,” she says quietly.
She looks at him with green eyes filled with sadness.
“I know you’re right. Ivan Tsarevich did not deserve to live. He did you and your sister great wrong, but you see…there’s been so much blood and sorrow in my life. So many battles…It’s something I don’t want anymore. I just want things to be different…a life where I don’t get to see dread in the others ’eyes wherever I go. A life where I don’t have to pick up a sword ever again, unless it’s to defend myself. Can you understand? And can you forgive me for cheating you of your revenge?”
Andriy is silent for a while. He allows his gaze to roam over Marya’s face, and as he does so, his wolfish features soften.
“There’s nothing to forgive. You just did what you thought was best. And you truly set me free…”
He then pauses, rather awkwardly.
“I’m in your debt, Marya Morevna,” he adds formally.
And Marya shakes her head in frustration.
“There’s no debt,” she says in a tired, bitter voice.
But Andriy stares at her penetratingly.
“I know there’s nothing I can offer you in return. You obviously need no protection from me…but, still, I think there’s one thing I could do for you…”
He has that wolfish grin on his lips now, but now it looks mischievous, rather than feral. And as Marya opens her mouth to speak, he just shushes her.
“Listen…” he tells her. “Because it might be a good idea to let me do this for you.”
“What?!”
“Well, cook for you, of course.”
Marya narrows her eyes at him.
“Now, you’re mocking me!”
Andriy shakes his head. His face is now utterly serious.
“No, I mean it. I could cook for you. For a while. Then we can decide if we might want to turn it into a permanent thing.”
Marya’s eyes now suddenly fill with tears and Andriy looks at her in shocked wonder.
“I’m sorry…” he says hastily. “I did not mean to offend you.”
The heart that’s buried underneath me swells with emotion. This is not Marya Morevna, the warrior princess who can stand against whole armies, but just Marya. Marya Morevna doesn’t shed tears. She can’t afford to. But Marya obviously can. She not only does it when she’s sad, but also when she’s happy.
“You did not offend me,” she says, shaking her head.
She’s smiling now, that dazzling smile I noticed earlier today. And I understand this is a special smile she will always reserve for Andriy.
“I think I’d like to give it a try,” she says in a soft voice. “But there are several things I’d like you to do for me. Not just cook…”
The grin returns on Andriy’s rugged face. And now it has something truly predatory in it.
“I think that can be easily arranged,” he says in his gravelly voice.
I try to avert my eyes from what happens next, but I can’t. There’s kissing, then there’s more than kissing, and I find myself fiercely blushing. Yes, even houses can blush. But none of them can fidget on their chicken legs as I’m doing now.
“Oh,” Maryia eventually mutters. “I think we’re upsetting Izbushka. She’s quite shy, you see…”
Andriy doesn’t seem too pleased when she decides to extricate herself from his arms. He snarls wolfishly, then whispers in her ear:
“Wolves are more comfortable outdoors, you know…”
He soon persuades Marya to join him outside. I breathe a sigh of relief when my door closes behind them and I promise myself I’m not going to look at what they’re doing. Not even a peek…
“I know you. You just pretend to be a prude. But in your heart…”
Baba Yaga’s now sitting in her ancient rocking chair, resting her bony legs quite comfortably. She has a look of satisfaction in her green eyes. I scoff at her.
“You mean the human heart you buried beneath my foundation?”
She pretends not to hear me, and cackles merrily.
“My plan worked wonderfully, didn’t it?”
“I thought you were trying to get her married to Ivan Tsarevich!” I say in vexation.
I don’t like that she’s kept me in the dark, but that’s how Baba Yaga is. Quite secretive and unpredictable.
Baba Yaga waves her hand in dismissal.
“Ivan Tsarevich?! Who needs Ivan Tsarevich? Andriy’s a Prince of the Enchanted Kingdom!”
I look at her in astonishment. But it does make sense if I think of it. Andriy’s the brother of one of the most famous Enchanted Princesses in the world, so it should be no surprise he’s really a prince. True, a Wolf Prince, but a prince nevertheless.
“Fine,” I say sullenly, still cross with Baba Yaga. “They like each other. That doesn’t really mean they’re going to get married!”
Baba Yaga harrumphs.
“Of course they will, they’re already smitten!”
I can’t argue with that. But I’m still vexed with Baba Yaga for letting me worry over the whole business.
“You forget Ivan Tsarevich,” I say pointedly. “Marya let him live. And he might try to get his revenge against them. One doesn’t dismiss Ivan Tsarevich so easily!”
“Is that so?!” Baba Yaga says in a pleasant voice.
She grins widely and her teeth look really sharp and pointy. Baba Yaga may look ancient, but her teeth are anything but ancient. They’re strong enough to rip apart whole trees and not only trees…
I look at her and I simply can’t believe it.
“No, really…You couldn’t! You didn’t! He’s Ivan Tsarevich!”
Baba Yaga suddenly yawns, as if exhausted by the whole conversation.
“I could and I did,” she says in a voice that sounds suddenly bored and dismissive. “After all, I am Baba Yaga.”
THE END
If you enjoyed this story, you may want to check A Deep Dark Call. BTW, it is considerably steamier…
