The Poisoned Princess: The Skazka Fairy Tales, #3

By Valia Lind

An arranged marriage. Seven rugged warriors. A plan to take back the kingdom. 

Princess Ivanna Sergeevna has been a captive in her own castle for most of her life. Her every move watched by her cruel stepmother, her father gone without a trace, she spends her days sneaking down to the kitchens and dreaming of the day her arranged marriage becomes reality. After all, the letters she and the prince have been exchanging make him seem like someone she can call a friend and she can use one of those.

But when her stepmother tries to kill her, Ivanna has no choice but to flee, finding a refuge in an out-of-the-way cottage in the magical forest, occupied by seven rugged bogatyrs—mysterious knights she's only heard whispers of within the castle gossip mill.

The most mysterious—and annoyingly handsome—Dimitri, seems to have a bone to pick with her, and she has her own misgivings about the so-called hero. But Ivanna isn't just a damsel in distress and has a plan. It involves getting back to her prince and taking the queen off the throne, once and for all.

But with the close proximity to the knight, a magical bunny, and the whole band of brothers, everything Ivanna has thought about the world is put to the test. When the time comes, she'll have to choose between her duty to the kingdom and her heart.

Is she strong enough to make the choice that can cost her her happily every after?

A Curse so Dark and Lovely meets Divine Rivals in this standalone retelling of the traditional Russian Snow White fairytale.
Set in the world of Skazka, this full length novel is full of swoony grumpy sunshine romance, found family, forced proximity, and adventure!

***The Poisoned Princess is a complete standalone set in the world of Russian fairytales. Journey back to Skazka or begin your adventure for the first time with this enchanting tale. Each book in the Skazka Fairy Tales series can be read on its own and in any order. Happily ever after guaranteed!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Skazka Press
• Release date: Dec 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223485391

Book preview

The Poisoned Princess

The Poisoned Princess

A SNOW WHITE RETELLING

VALIA LIND

SKAZKA PRESS

Contents

Note from the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Glossary of Russian words and phrases:

Kingdoms of Skazka

Don’t miss the Cinderella retelling!

What more from the land of Skazka?

Note from the Author

About the Author

Also by Valia Lind

Copyright © 2023 by Valia Lind

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover by Sanja Gombar

Map by Hanna Sandvig

Edited by Sara Lawson

Note from the Author

Dear Reader,

Snow White fairytale is a favorite of many and I have to say that I love the Russian fairytale a little more than the others. The retelling you find here is of The Tale of the Dead Tsarevna and of the Seven Bogatyrs by Alexander Pushkin.

For those of you picking up my books for the first time, you will be interested to find out that I grew up in St. Petersburg, Russia. These fairytales, these stories, are my childhood. They were the first to teach me about magic and what it means to see the world a little differently.

This retelling of Snow White may be familiar, but there are a few other Russian folktales woven throughout the story, as well as the heritage and language of the Russian culture.

I have included a glossary of Russian words and phrases at the back of the book for your convenience.

The variations in the Russian words’ spellings come from the way the words’ endings are changed in the Russian language. There will be a letter off every now and then, as it would be in the native tongue. I believe keeping the language as close to the original as possible brings that sense of realness to the experience.

I hope you love Ivanka and Dimitri as much as I do. I hope you enjoy the glimpses into the culture and the people of Skazka. I hope this book brings a little magic to your day. Thank you for reading.

Much love,

Valia

One

Every morning there’s a possibility that I will be discovered and all of my carefully laid plans will come crashing down around me. Dramatic? Maybe. But my life depends on those freshly baked goods, and I will do whatever sneaking about is required for me to get them.

It’s too early for most people to be up, and I hurry down the long hallways toward the sitting room on the opposite side of the castle where my favorite secret passage waits for me. There are quite a few passages built into the ancient walls of the castle; many I haven’t discovered yet. But this particular passage came to me when I needed it most. By that, I of course, mean that I was spending way too much time in the passages and discovered this one leading directly into the pantry—the one place that allows a few moments of the freedom and companionship I so desperately crave.

It’s been ten years since my papa disappeared, ten years since I’ve had any kind of interaction with the outside world. My stepmother, Queen Pelageya, took the throne and decided it would be best for Korolevstvo Tsvetov if I were to stay protected within these walls.

The outside world is a cruel place, Ivanna. And it is even more so for those of us in power. Heed my words and listen to your queen.

I’m not sure how many times I’ve heard her say that to me. No one knows what happened to my papa, but we cannot afford a kingdom without a ruler. When I turn twenty, I am to take the throne, and with that kind of responsibility on my shoulders, it is wise for me to follow Queen Pelageya’s advice. She has my—and my kingdom’s—best interests in mind.

It’s a mantra I utter daily as I go through lesson after lesson, remaining locked within the library or my bedroom where I will be safe.

But even though I follow the queen’s guidance when it comes to staying away from most people, I can’t stay away from Tetia Alla. She makes the best piroshki in the whole land of Skazka. I don’t even need to venture outside the castle to know that. I know it on an instinctive level. The smell of baked dough with seasoned beef filling calls to my very soul daily.

I keep my steps light and as quiet as possible as I hide in the shadows. Typically, the halls of the castle are bright with color. The walls are always decorated with paintings, all of which are adorned in golden frames. The crown molding is also gold, and the designs are incredible, raging from vining plants to animals in regal positions. But right now, everything is dark.

I quickly look both ways, then pull the sitting room door open and slip inside. The room is dark, the heavy curtains drawn to prevent any light from creeping in. But I don’t need light. I have this room memorized like the back of my hand.

Knotting my long skirt up in my fist so it doesn’t brush against anything, I hurry to the tapestry hanging near the far-right window. Many of the castle walls are just like this room, covered in tapestries, which keep the cold weather as far away as possible and add extra insulation. Despite the dark, I can picture the designs clearly: various renditions of scenes from Skazka’s history.

Baba Yaga riding in her mortar, holding a pestle, the house on chicken legs in the background. The three harbingers of her magic—the white, red, and black riders on their respective horses of the same color. The fields full of poleviks, the deformed creatures with different colored eyes and grass for hair, coming to punish the workers asleep on the job. The land of Skazka is full of these mythical creatures, the forest itself brimming with magic. Or so I’ve been told.

The passage is even darker than the room I leave behind, but just like within the room, I know the exact number of steps that will lead me down the length of the corridor before I have to turn left. It’s colder here than the rest of the castle, sending goosebumps up my arms and down to my toes.

The simple tapochki I’m wearing on my feet may have a heel cover, unlike my old ones, but the soles are barely thick enough to protect me from the rough ground. They’re definitely not warm enough to chase away the cold. And neither is the dress that leaves my shoulders bare. I didn’t think to grab my shawl.

When I reach the place where the corridor veers off in two directions, I turn left. Within a minute, I’m at a wooden door. As soon as I push it open, I’m hit with the smell of freshly baked bread, and I smile.

I slip through the cracked door. I don’t open it all the way—there are shelves in front of it to hide it from sight. Only a few of the kitchen staff know about this particular passage, and they make sure it stays hidden but accessible for me. When I finally tiptoe to the pantry’s outside door, it’s pulled open before I can grab the handle.

"Nu nada zhe! Princessa Ivanna, you are going to give an old woman a heart attack one of these days," Tetia Alla exclaims, her hand on her heart as she looks up at me. I can’t help grinning. She says this to me at least three times a week, when I stop by for my secret cooking lessons.

"Dobroe utro, Tetia Alla," I greet her, bending down to place a kiss on her cheek. She only comes up to my shoulders, and I’m not tall by any means. Since trading with the human world became popular a few years back, bridging the divide between our realms, I’ve been using the metric system, but learning the imperial. According to their recognized measurements, this would make me five foot five. Tetia Alla is barely five feet tall, and the most adorable human I have ever met.

Her cheeks are constantly rosy, and her babushka headscarf always covers her dark locks. She wears the traditional sarafan, brown with tan lines and flowing designs, over her white blouse—appropriate servant colors. Even so, there’s a sense of comfort about her that I find endearing.

If I did not know any better, Princessa, I would say you enjoy giving my heart a morning workout.

Who? Me? I would never, I grin down at her and am rewarded by a small smile. In the years since my father’s disappearance and my subsequent imprisonment, Tetia Alla has been a consistent source of kindness in my life. The queen, as she requests that I call her at all times, is not an affectionate person, but I don’t hold it against her.

"Oy, dorogaya. Come, come." Tetia Alla motions me behind her, and I follow, no questions asked. She pulls me to a corner stool near her workstation and hands me a plate with piroshki on it. That’s when I notice that the kitchen is bustling with activity, much more than usual at this time of the morning. Tetia Alla is usually here by herself.

What’s going on? I ask, before taking a bite of my pastry. The moment it hits my taste buds, I want to make an inappropriate-for-current-company noise, but instead, I just savor it slowly. Food is one of the greatest gifts of life. Truly.

Food and the letters I receive in the post are my simple joys in life. That said, I think the post is supposed to come today. It’s been a pleasant surprise that the man I am betrothed to likes correspondence. At least, I’m not marrying a total stranger. Although, I’m still trying to make up my mind about him. He’s been interesting, but⁠—

Tetia Alla, you wouldn’t believe it. Anya’s voice breaks through my musings. The queen’s maiden rushes in, passing me and stopping right in front of Tetia Alla, a little out of breath. I perk up immediately. I love catching the gossip mill firsthand. "The bogatyrs are back, and they were seen right on the other side of the village northeast of us! The fact that the knight-errants are so close is crazy! Can you believe it? The queen is in a tiff with the advisers again. Apparently, they’re saying the bogatyrs attacked a village for its resources! They took grain and milk. There’s so much speculation. Some say it didn’t happen. But I heard that they’re hands⁠—"

Goodness me, child. Slow down, Tetia Alla says, handing the girl a glass of water. She takes it gratefully.

Are they really handsome? I ask, because I can’t help myself. The girl jumps, turning to face me, a look of shock on her face.

Oh, Princessa Ivanna! Anya stumbles back in surprise, before giving me a slight curtsy. I smile.

Good morning, Anya. Please, do continue, I say. The girl looks at me for a moment longer, as if unsure of how to regard me. She’s one of the newer additions to the castle staff. She’s only been here about four years and has always been kind to me, but we have never become friends. She gives me a tentative smile before turning back to Tetia Alla.

But Tetia Alla is already moving on to her next task.

If you are finished, please see about the queen’s breakfast.

Oh, but Tetia Alla, they’re saying the danger is coming closer and closer every day. What will we do if these mercenaries come for us? Anya’s distress is evident.

Tetia Alla gives her a kind smile. Gossip, my dear, is only speculation passed around by people with no facts. It is distorted every time it is told to another. You call them mercenaries, others call them heroes. It is all a matter of perspective.

I finish up my piroshok and dust off my hands.

You really don’t think they’re anything to fear? I ask. Two pairs of eyes turn to me. I’ve heard the stories about this band of men traveling through the land of Skazka. Some stories speak of their valiant efforts to help villages, while others paint them as men on a rampage, pillaging the land. They’re said to be handsome, but evil can be beautiful and often is. At least, that’s what my storybooks tell me.

I think, Princessa, you have nothing to fear. You are well-protected within these walls. And that goes for you, too, Anya. Enough talk. See to the queen’s breakfast.

And that’s that. I give Tetia Alla a quick kiss on the cheek and hurry back to the secret passage. I think that today, instead of a kitchen lesson, I want to see what the queen is up to.

I’ve only been to the queen’s wing twice. One of the hidden passages I discovered leads directly to the sitting room outside her bedroom, while the another leads to the conference room. I can only assume that whoever created these passages wanted to listen in on the royals.

Truth be told, I would’ve snuck over more than twice. I am curious, after all, and no one tells me anything. But somehow, each time I did, it was almost like the queen knew I was eavesdropping and watched me closer afterward. The queen’s attention isn’t something I like to have on me. Not when I want to sneak over to the kitchens or when I’m waiting for the post to come in. So, as much as possible, I try to keep a low profile. It’s better for everyone.

But today, I’m too curious. Queen Pelageya is typically pretty level-headed. She guards her emotions so closely, sometimes, I’m not sure she even has them. And I’ve never seen her in a tiff before.

Munching on the piroshok I’d grabbed right before I left, I make my way to the queen’s sitting room. This particular passage is a little easier to navigate today, which makes me smile. Clearly, my snooping is meant to be. I almost start humming but then catch myself at the last moment. What kind of a spy would I be if I gave away my position? Honestly.

When I reach the turnoff toward the queen’s study, I’ve nearly finished my treat. I keep one hand on the wall for guidance as my mind spins with questions about these bogatyrs. I have very limited information—all of it from the kitchens—but I can’t help wondering. I mean, is this a group of knights, traveling all over Skazka, bringing good fortune to those they meet?

Or are they destroying everything in their path?

I can’t quite decide which description is more fascinating—which should probably worry me. Why would I want destruction? Because, of course, I don’t. But I am curious about the type of person who believes something so fully they are willing to do whatever it takes to get it.

It makes me wonder if that’s the kind of queen I’ll be.

The land of Skazka brims with magic and history. I’ve read plenty of books that describe the valiant efforts of High Queen Calista and King Brendan in bringing down Baba Yaga and ridding the land of evil for decades. One day, I hope to visit Zelonoye Korolevstvo and meet Queen Calista in person. She sounds like an incredible role model, both as a ruler and as a woman.

But I’ve also heard the whispers that evil is never truly gone, and even though Skazka prospers, many of the surrounding kingdoms still struggle from day to day—especially now that the trading passage to the human realm has been opened and more foreigners flood the forests of Skazka.

Which makes me worried for all kinds of different reasons.

Even though I’m foggy about the details, I remember the forest taking my father all those years ago. It’s the only way I can put into words the images that sometimes visit me in the night. The trees coming alive and reaching for my father, wrapping their long branches around him and pulling him into the darkness. If it wasn’t for Queen Pelageya, I wouldn’t be here right now. She has always taken care of me. One day, I hope to repay her kindness by being a fair ruler and taking care of her.

I take a deep breath as I reach my destination. There are grates near the queen’s study—created for air circulation no doubt—that provide a way to peek into the room without entering. I reach one and lean against the wall, letting it support my weight, as I peek inside.

Even though it’s early morning, the curtains are only slightly cracked on one side of the room. The fireplace is lit, a normal occurrence around the castle regardless of the time of year. It casts an ominous glow over the room.

At first, I don’t see anyone, but then Queen Pelageya steps into view. I’m always incredibly impressed by her beauty. She looks put together, even this early in the morning.

Her dark brown locks are pinned away from her face, falling into a thick curly updo at her back. Her face is free of blemishes, her cheeks rosy, and her lashes dark and long. Her lips are painted red—her signature color—which is also the color of the dress that hugs her tall frame, falling all the way to the floor in layers.

Queen Pelageya loves the fashion of the human realm, with more risqué designs than I would ever dare wear. But they all look good on her, in that way that demands the painter’s brush to put it to canvas. She’s sat for portraits more than once. The dress she currently wears has a full layered skirt, while the top is diagonally secured over one shoulder, leaving the other exposed. She’s also wearing an assortment of gold jewelry—her favorite. I can’t keep the smile from crossing my face. She looks expensive and regal. She looks like a queen.

But she doesn’t look mad, not the way Anya made it sound. In fact, the queen is alone, with no advisers in sight. I’m about to turn back when she raises her hand from where it had been half hidden in her skirts, and I stop.

The queen holds what looks like a mirror, but not one I’ve seen before. Leaning a little closer to the wall, I try to see it in the low light. It also appears to be made of gold, with intricate designs around the oval glass area. The queen lifts the mirror by the handle—the glass itself isn’t any bigger than her palm—and smiles.

"Tell me, pretty looking-glass,

Nothing but the truth, I ask:

Who in all the world is fairest

And has beauty of the rarest?"

It’s such an absurd question, I nearly laugh out loud. Covering my mouth, I drop away from the grate moving across the passage to the other side, lest I be discovered. A man’s voice speaks then, sending a shiver up my spine. I can barely hear it from where I’m now leaning against the opposite wall, but I swear I can make out some of the words. It sounds like, And her beauty is the rarest.

As much as the question didn’t make sense, the answer makes even less sense. Who would answer a question like that? The voice doesn’t seem real and neither does the tense silence that follows.

I want to look, but something is holding me in place. A sense of…oppression. I raise my hand to my chest, pushing on my heart to try and calm the sudden burst of fear. My mind tries to process what’s causing it, but as I glance around, I don’t see any danger. When I finally move back toward the grate, the queen is no longer in sight. That’s when I hear a knock on her door.

I take that as my cue to leave. If the advisers are coming now, someone will be coming for me soon, and I still have to make myself look like a princess. My feet carry me automatically toward my chambers, but my mind is spinning with questions. What was that mirror and whose voice did I hear?

Two years earlier

Dorogoi Prince Yevgenich,

Zdrastvuite. I am told I am to marry you. Have you been told? Maybe I should have started this letter differently, but I cannot seem to find the words. What if you have not been told yet and you are getting this letter out of nowhere. I apologize, but I cannot bring myself to restart.

The advisers announced this to me only last night, and I am still in shock. Well, maybe not in as much of shock as I should be. I always knew I would marry for the good of my kingdom. After my father’s passing, I suppose I simply forgot that he had arranged a marriage with your kingdom. I am surprised. Are you?

I was told we met when we were children, when my father was still alive. Do you remember me? I am sorry to say I do not remember you. I am also sorry to say I only know you by your patronymic name, as I know you are the son of King Yevgeni. I think it might be safer like this for us. There will be a sense of distance and respect.

Those are not my words. The queen has only given me small bits of information about you, saying it did not matter if you liked animals or are an early riser or a night owl. These things are not important in an arranged marriage. But I would still like to know them, if you are willing to share.

I have never been a morning person, which is probably not a good look for a queen. But I do love animals. All kinds. I would love to have a pet one day. Maybe a kitty or a bunny. I think they are so cute.

I hope you do not find this letter strange, and I hope you will reply. If we are to spend our lives together, I would like for us to at least become friends.

There is more I would like to say here and more I would like to know. I will wait eagerly for your response.

S uvazheniyem,

Princessa Sergeivna

Dorogaya Princessa Sergeivna,

Dobriy den. I will be honest with you, the way you were honest with me. I was also in shock when I received the news. It seems that our fathers made this agreement long ago, and I suppose the time had come for it to be brought to light.

But I was not in shock the same way you would think. Simply put, I could not believe this responsibility was actually put on me. I am not what you may call a serious fellow. At least, that is what my father tells me. He thinks this marriage will be good for me and will help me settle down. Whatever that means.

Do not be alarmed. I do not plan on causing you any trouble. But I will require fun. You do have something called fun in your kingdom, right? I can already picture your shocked face as you read this. Well, not actually picture it because I have no idea what you look like. I definitely do not remember meeting you as a child.

Why is that? I think I have met a dozen princesses in my time and not one kingdom has kept their royalty hidden behind closed doors as yours does. I am being blunt. I have been told that is one of my strengths as well as a very great weakness. Also, have you noticed how I matched your formal tone in my letter? Maybe we could drop the majority of the formalities going forward and simply be ourselves. We are to be married after all.

S uvazheniyem,

Prince Yevgenich

Two

For the rest of the day, I can’t stop thinking about that mirror. Something about it seemed otherworldly. Of course, I know magic is real, even though I haven’t seen much of it myself. No one in the castle possesses any, and I haven’t left the grounds in ten years.

But the mirror definitely held…something…within it. I just don’t know what. And I don’t even want to think about the weird feeling that came over me when I heard the voice speaking. The two must be connected somehow—I don’t know how. If I wasn’t being watched so closely by my tutors, I would’ve done some research. Our library is pretty well stocked, and I’m great at research.

Speaking of being watched, it’s about time for the guard change, which means I have a ten-minute window to sneak down to the kitchens to see if a letter came for me. Queen Pelageya would never allow me this correspondence, but it is the one aspect in my life that I have gone against her on. I always thought I’d have the kind of love my parents had, but an arranged marriage doesn’t leave much room for that. Still, I decided to make the best of my situation, just like I always do. My father said that he wrote letters to my mother even after they were married. I didn’t have any expectations when I wrote to Prince Yevgenich that first time, but he surprised me by replying. Tetia Alla has been the keeper of my letters since then.

Tiptoeing toward the door, I crack it open just in time to see the guards move down the hall. All I need to do is make it to the room opposite the study, where one of the secret passages will take me to the kitchens, but I have to be fast about it.

When the guards round the corner, I run out, my silky ballet flats barely making any sound across the floor. I’m inside the other room and in the passage in the next minute.

I don’t have to think about where I’m going, the path is memorized. When I reach the door to the storage room, I push through, a little out of breath. The door to