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.
