The Poisoned Princess: A Snow White Retelling (The Skazka Fairy Tales)
The Poisoned Princess: Chapter 32

Three weeks later

IVANKA

This feels like torture.

“Princessa Ivanna, please sit still for a few more minutes?” I glance up at one of the girls currently pinning my hair at the side of my head and give her a small smile. We’ve been at this for over an hour, and I’m getting restless.

Today is my coronation. Not something I thought I’d be saying for a long time, but here we are. Everyone has been running around, preparing for the day on such short notice. Maybe we could’ve waited, but I didn’t want to put any pressure on Papa and his recovery. Even now, he’s still only slowly coming out of whatever fog the queen had him in. We still have no idea how or where she kept him, although he thinks, one day, he’ll be able to answer those questions. Either way, he decided he won’t rule, and our kingdom needs a ruler.

A good and fair one who will help heal the land. Skazka herself has given me plenty of help, so now I need to return the favor. I glance over at Kroshka, who is curled up in the middle of my bed, watching everything that’s going on around her. I still fully believe the bunny was sent to me by Skazka herself. I also know for a fact that she has spoken to me before.

Just then, Kroshka meets my eye, and if the bunny could raise her eyebrows at me, I’m certain she would. There’s a bit of sass in her, for sure. I grin broadly, and I think Kroshka huffs in response, but she doesn’t look away. I still have no idea what the queen saw in that spirit Kroshka unleashed, but I’m grateful we’re friends now, because I don’t want Kroshka unleashing anything on me. Not that she would. I think she likes me.

The girls finish pinning my hair at the sides, and I can finally move from this chair. I turn toward the full-length mirror, seeing my whole ensemble for the first time. From head to toe, I look like a queen. It surprises me for a second, and I give the reflection a thorough study.

“Will that be all, Princessa Ivanna?” one of the maids asks. Looking at her makes me think of Anya and I hope the girl and her family are doing well. She left right after I returned, carrying too much guilt in her heart to stay.

I give my maid a smile. “Da. Thank you, Olya. You may go get ready for the ceremony.”

The two girls bow, and then Kroshka and I are alone in my room.

I turn back to the reflection, as if I’m searching for something. The dress I’m wearing is more gold than yellow, with layers of sparkling tulle covering the floor-length skirt. The neckline is wide, leaving my shoulders bare, and a few threads of crystals layer over where sleeves should be. Every time I move, the dress sparkles.

My hair is curled, falling down my back, except for a few places where it’s pinned at the sides and around my temples, creating the perfect spot to place the crown. I’m not wearing gloves, even though they’re on the table.

When I finally glance up to study my face, I give it a critical assessment. My skin is still fair, although after so much time outside, it now has a tiny sun glow. My cheeks still carry that permanent sun-kissed look, and my lips are nice and pink. But it’s my eyes that capture my attention the most. They appear much older and wiser now, changed in such a small amount of time.

“You know, no matter how much you look, you’ll still be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I don’t turn around as Dimitri steps into the room, coming up behind me. I watch him in the mirror, as his eyes take in all of me. That look never fails to take my breath away.

It’s as if he’s seeing me for the first time, devouring every part of me with just a glance and memorizing it to revisit later.

“You only say that because you like me,” I finally say, which earns me a small growl at the back of his throat.

“I love you. Get it right, Highness.”

“Oh, so we’re back to Highness, are we?” I smirk, turning to face him.

He does another thorough study of me. “It fits at the moment.”

I’ve noticed how he has different nicknames for me, depending on his mood. Or, I suppose, the mood that I inspire in him.

“And how does it do that?” I ask, stepping closer to him. We’re never far apart, but even the hour and half it took for me to look this presentable seemed interminably long.

“You look like you can take down countries with the a wave of a finger,” Dimitri replies. “Beautiful and intimidating.”

I grin. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I say.

In reality, he looks so handsome it makes me want to scream and cry and order a royal sculpture of his perfect—well, everything—so his image can be preserved until the end of days.

The dark blue uniform really suits him. Large golden buttons and a golden sash over one shoulder and trousers the same color as his coat all serve to make him look even taller than he already is.

“You do appreciate a good suit.” He grins.

I chuckle. “It’s true. It’s really working for me.”

Having him here calms me a bit, even though I told myself I have nothing to be worried about. I’m not alone. Not anymore. Not ever again. After so many years with the queen, I didn’t realize just how lonely I was. But now, I have a whole new family and someone who has my back. Always.

“Are you nervous?” Dimitri asks, completely reading the situation and me the way he always does. I glance up at him, step forward, and place my arms on his shoulders, lacing my fingers behind his head.

“I was, but then this incredibly handsome prince, who I’m totally in love with, stepped into my room, and now I’m just inwardly swooning.”

“You can’t say stuff like that and not expect to be kissed,” Dimitri warns, tugging me tightly against him, as his arms wrap around my waist.

“You’re going to mess up all the hard work,” I warn, leveling him with a look.

“You should’ve thought of that before you stepped into my personal space.”

Then, before I can protest, he lowers his head and captures my lips in a soul searing kiss. Those are, of course, the only kind of kisses we share. I feel his heart in every stroke of his lips, in every flex of his fingers on my waist. We can never get close enough, and now I’m rethinking this big skirt, because there’s far too much space between us.

“Excuse me, Princessa Ivanna?” A voice shatters the moment, and Dimitri reluctantly lifts his head.

“Whoever that is, off with their head,” he mumbles.

I try to swallow my laugh. “What is it?” I call out.

“We’re ready to begin.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I take a step out of Dimitri’s arms, turning to give myself a quick once over in the mirror. I look a bit flushed and very much in love, but I also look more myself than I ever have before. A sense of rightness washes over me. I know that no matter what happens, I will do my best to be the kind of queen Korolevstvo Tsvetov deserves. Because this is my kingdom and my home.

“Shall we?” I turn to Dimitri, and he gives me a proud grin.

“We shall.”

DIMITRI

I’m sweating through my suit like I’m the one about to be crowned right now. Ivanka isn’t even in the room yet, and I feel the pressure of everything that this means for us. The open hall is filled with people. Many from the kingdom of Korolevstvo Tsvetov, but also many royals from adjoining kingdoms.

High Queen Calista herself is here to crown Ivanka. Usually, the reigning monarch does so themselves when they are ready to step down from their position, but since the king has been believed to be dead for ten years and the last queen is slowly fading away in the dungeons, Ivanka asked Queen Calista to come and do the honors. Ivanka didn’t want to put pressure on her father to do the coronation, and thankfully, Queen Calista accepted immediately.

Now, the queen stands near the throne at the front of the room, her husband by her side. I can see they make an incredible power couple, just by looking at them.

My own father isn’t here now, but he came to visit, giving his regards to the king and the princess. Before he left, he told me he’s proud of me and so is my brother. He wasn’t a great dad when I was growing up, but he’s been trying recently. Giving me freedom with this mission was his way of offering an olive branch.

I’m standing near the throne at the front, Kostya to my right, Maxim to my left, and Sokolko sitting like the most perfectly behaved pup in front of me. The others are on the other side of the throne, facing me. I can feel both Arseniy and Igor’s eyes on me, but I’m not making any eye contact with them right now or I’m going to lose it.

“Dima, you’re jittery as if this were your wedding day,” Kostya says, keeping his voice low enough so only I will hear. Still, I nearly jump.

“He’s going to be so much worse on his wedding day,” Maxim says not nearly low enough. I ignore both of them.

I can’t help being nervous. This is huge for Ivanka and for the kingdom. I know that she’s going to be a glorious queen, but I intend to stay on guard in case the ceiling caves in or some magical mishap occurs.

“He’s nervous because everything is going too smoothly. He’s more used to disaster,” Kostya says to Maxim.

“Ah, you know, that makes sense. He is such a doom and gloom kind of person. Maybe I should go spill some water, make a little ruckus. Do you think that’ll calm him down?”

“I can hear you, you know,” I say.

“We know,” Maxim replies. I can hear the smile in his voice. They’re not wrong, though. I am better with conflict, because then I can do something about it. But this is all on Ivanka. And while she can handle it better than I ever could, I still want to be able to do something—to help her in some way.

I glance over at Queen Calista and King Brendan and make an internal wish and a prayer that I can be to Ivanka what Brendan is to Calista. Their love story is one books are written about. I want to be her ultimate support, her best friend, and the love of her life for the rest of our lives.

And then, the doors open at the end of the hall and all murmuring immediately ceases. Balalaika music fills the now-quiet room as Yasha plays one of the traditional songs of this land. It was Ivanka’s choice to have him play, instead of a more typical band. I think it suits her perfectly.

The progression is slow; she nods to the people and receives bows in return. Over the top of her dress, she wears a long royal cape, woven with pictures showcasing the history of Skazka and framed by golden threads and jewels. It’s heavy, but she carries herself as if it weighs nothing.

When her eyes meet mine, a current of awareness spreads between us. She seems to glow from the inside out, and a small smile forms on her lips that’s reserved just for me. I feel my chest fill to the brim, and it takes a tremendous amount of self-control not to ruin the whole thing by stalking over and kissing her senseless.

Once she reaches the throne, her father—who’s been sitting near the front—stands and hands her a scepter and an orb, physically passing over the responsibilities of the ruling monarch.

She takes them without hesitation, as if she was always meant to; I truly think she was. She was born to be a queen. Ivanka takes the throne, glancing over at me one more time, and I realize she’s just as nervous as I am, if not more. But with that one look passing between us, she seems to calm down.

And I do as well. The way we’re linked together feels magical. Kostya moves a fraction of a centimeter toward me, until his arm presses against mine, providing much-needed support simply by his presence. I give him the tiniest nod, without taking my eyes off Ivanka.

I’m not sure what’s said next. I think I completely zone out as I watch the woman I love become a queen. But if I’m being honest, she’s always been a queen in my eyes. Even before I realized how I felt about her, she has already taken that title with both hands. I think my heart knew before the rest of me did—everything that she is to me.

Once Queen Calista places the crown on Ivanka’s head, the hall erupts with applause. The noise jerks me back to the here and now, and I watch as Ivanka stands, her eyes immediately on mine. We share a moment that’s uniquely ours before she turns her attention to the rest of the room and smiles.

“Dorogii moi,” she speaks with a clear voice that somehow quiets the room immediately. “Thank you for being here today, for giving me this honor as your queen. I have taken my vows, but I make one more to you. I will care for you in the same way I was cared for—with kindness and understanding. There are few people who can say they have been shown love the way I have, and I want to recognize those responsible for me being here, as your queen.”

She turns toward the men on her right, giving them a smile. The men and I exchange a confused look, but no one speaks.

“Igor Petrovich.” She looks at the man closest to her. “My friend and a father figure when I had none.”

“Konstantin Andreevich.” She now turns to Kostya. “My friend and my brother. A voice of wisdom.” She gives her attention to each person, looking them straight in the eye, as her voice carries across the hall.

“Arseniy Romanovich, my friend and my brother. The first to welcome me.

“Maxim Romanovich, my friend and my brother. The mischievous heart that I hope you never grow out of.

Yakov Alexandrovich, my friend and my brother. Teller of stories and singer of songs.

Pavel Vasilich, my friend and my brother. A patient teacher and an incredible cook.”

I watch my bogatyrs as they are mesmerized by her, a hint of tears in their eyes as they bow in response to her acknowledgment and respect. She is giving them the best kind of a gift before her entire kingdom, and I feel so proud of them and of her.

But then she pauses, and finally turns her eyes to me. I hold my breath, afraid that maybe I’ll shatter the moment if I inhale. Ivanka’s eyes are shining with unshed tears as she looks at me. I want to cross the distance between us immediately, but I wait for her.

“Dimitri Yevgenich,” she says, my name the sweetest sound on her lips. “My friend, my prince, and my love. Your smiles may be rare, but you shine brighter than the sun. A big heart and a kind soul.”

And then she lifts her hand, covering her mouth so only I can see it, and mouths,

“Mine.”

Kostya averts his gaze, but I know he saw it. I don’t even care. My queen is a romantic and a sappy one at that, but she’s mine. That’s a promise.