"I didn't know Lady Tatianka was this evil," Yvonne finally spoke after some time. They had returned from the passage and everyone seated silently pondering on what they had heard. Zhanna didn't remember this scene from her past life. Yes, King Igor was killed but it was by her.
"We need to stop her... because If King Igor dies, there would be serious chaos" Vika said and everyone nodded their head in agreement. "Your majesty, do you have a plan" Annette asked Zhanna. Zhanna, who was originally lost in thoughts, turned her face to the remaining behind her and with a dark glint in her eyes she said, "Of course I do"
The next day...
Ulyana sighed once more, she could see the courtyard from where she stood. The guards, the knights and the prince's group were all practising their fighting skills. That meant Shura was there and from what Ulyana had heard, he was a Dragon blood Warrior. She thoughts those warriors were extinct and only existed in fairy tales. Shura was a Dragon-blood warrior, a supernatural human worthy to be married to her not some human... Boris.
Ulyana dressed her best, trying to attract the prince's attention. As Shura fought, it was as though his face got more handsome; that's why Ulyana sighed constantly. After the practice, they dispersed and so did Ulyana. She then remembered that she hadn't written to her mother since she got married three weeks ago. So, she sat on her table, brought a nepa (feather pen), a paper rag and began writing.
These were the contents of the letter:
Dearest Mother,
I can hardly write this without my hands trembling in anger. How dare she, Zhanna, live her life as though she is some great lady, married to a prince, living in luxury, with the throne so close she could touch it? While I am trapped here with a man who is nothing but a mortal, beneath me in every way, suffocating in this castle, playing the part of a bride to a man who should never have been mine. I can hardly stand to be in his presence. And yes mother, I know I am a witch.
I have seen her, Mother. Zhanna. She is here, living in the castle and married to a Prince. Not just any prince but the warrior prince! It makes my blood boil just thinking of it. And here I am, stuck with Prince Boris, a man who cannot even begin to understand me, a man so beneath my power, it sickens me. Zhanna must come back, and she must return to Prince Boris.
Please, Mother, you know what must be done. You always have a plan. I need your help. Do something, make it happen. Bring Zhanna back to where she belongs, and let me finally go back to my kingdom. I can't bear this any longer.
I wait for your wisdom, and I pray it comes quickly.
With all my love and desperation, Ulyana.
After writing, she let out a pigeon, tied the letter to its legs and let it fly to Koldunova.
...
Tatianka set her plan into motion the next morning. Slipping into the palace kitchen under the pretence of supervision, she cornered the young maid who usually served the king. Her voice was cold and sharp as steel.
"If you value your life or your family's you'll do exactly as I say."
Terrified, the maid nodded. The instructions were simple. A few drops of poison in the king's meal. Easy. Deadly.
But Tatianka didn't know she was already being watched by Annette who was also in the Kitchen.
As the maid made her way toward the King's chambers, her hands trembled against the handles of the food trolley. Every step felt like a countdown to her doom.
"Halt," a firm voice echoed down the corridor. Zhanna stepped forward, flanked by Vika and Annette.
The maid's eyes widened in recognition. She dropped into a deep bow. "Your Highness."
"Where are you headed?" Zhanna asked, her voice calm but cold.
"T-To the King's dining court, my lady."
Zhanna glanced at the trolley. "Not with that cart, you aren't. Take this one instead," she gestured to a different tray nearby. "You wouldn't want to accidentally serve poison to the King. I don't think your family would survive that."
The maid froze, her mouth slightly agape. How did she know?
"I- I was threatened, my lady. I didn't want to..."
"I believe you," Zhanna interrupted gently. "You may rise. Go. We'll handle the rest."
The maid bowed again, eyes shining with tears of relief. "Thank you, Your Highness." She wheeled away the clean trolley with trembling hands.
Once she turned the corner, Zhanna looked to her companions. "Now… let's deliver breakfast. To Tatianka."
In Tatianka's chamber, another maid arrived with the decoy trolley. The poison now rested in the bowl meant for her and she later found out that she nearly ate poison. Feeling angry, she sent for the maid.
"Was the mission successful?" Tatianka asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Yes, my lady," the maid replied, keeping her tone steady.
Tatianka's gaze lingered for a second too long. Then she laughed, not with amusement, but with contempt.
"Liar," she hissed. She snapped her fingers, and two guards seized the maid by the arms.
"You thought you could deceive me?" Tatianka rose slowly, her dress sweeping the floor like a shadow. "You thought you could survive after crossing me?"
The maid whimpered.
"Guards," Tatianka said, voice sharp as a dagger. "You know what to do."
---
"You've been going to the kitchen a lot lately," Shura said casually one morning as they crossed paths. "Is something going on?"
Zhanna blinked, startled, she couldn't tell him about Tatianka's plans- not yet. "No, not at all. I… I just enjoy cooking. It's a hobby."
Shura raised a brow. "Really? Then I'd love to see you cook sometime."
She paused mid-step, glancing at him. "Don't you have something more important to do?"
He smiled. "Nothing more important than that."
Zhanna saw that there was no brushing him off so she let him follow her. When they arrived at the Kitchen, Vika and Annette were surprised to see Shura.
"Your highness," They greeted and bowed alongside other people around. Shura nodded, acknowledging their greeting.
"What's going on?" Vika whispered to Zhanna.
"He asked why I've been going to the Kitchen constantly, I told him I love cooking" Zhanna whispered back. Vika snickered and joined others to leave the kitchen. Shura had ordered everyone to leave so Zhanna could cook.
"So what are we preparing today?" Shura asked, bringing out pots and pans. Zhanna said nothing, she was going through the menu... there was nothing she could prepare. She had never cooked in her whole life, except when she was taught by her palace chef how to cook 'kurnik'. Her stepmother banned her from the dining that day- and there was no other place food was served except the dining. So, she had to learn how to cook in other to eat. But it only happened once, can she still remember? What were the ingredients again?
"You know, you can quit the lie and just tell me what you've been up to? What are you planning to do this time? Is it something concerning Boris?" Shura asked seriously.
"I'm here to cook like I told you! Is there a problem Shura?" Zhanna said boldly, staring at Shura straight in the eye. She wasn't just some weakling one could threaten the truth out of.
Zhanna brought out an apron, then turned her back to Shura, pretending to focus. Flour first… then the dough… then the filling... She could still hear the palace chef's voice echoing in her mind, but her hands refused to follow. The flour clumped. The dough tore. The onions were too thick. Everything was going wrong.
She growled under her breath and tried again.
Shura leaned against the table, watching. "Want help?" He took an apron just in case.
"No," she snapped, trying to flatten the dough with a bowl since she couldn't find the rolling pin. "I've got it."
"You're holding the bowl upside down."
She frowned. "I know that."
He stepped behind her, (apron on) took the dough gently from her hands, and started kneading with practiced ease. His sleeves were rolled, flour dusted across his forearms, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he worked. Zhanna blinked. Why does he look so... good right now?
"You're doing it wrong," she said quickly, snapping out of it. "That's not how the chef showed me."
"This is the correct way," Shura replied.
"No, this is!" She reached over to fix the fold, he reached at the same time and their hands collided.
"Stop messing it up!"
"You stop getting in my way!"
They both lunged for the butter at the same time and knocked it off the table. A bowl of flour tipped and burst like a cloud. Zhanna shrieked, and Shura burst out laughing.
"You ruined it!"
"You ruined everything, Your Highness," he teased.
Covered in flour, she tried to roll the dough again, arms flailing with determination. Shura watched her, the way she bit her lip in concentration, how the light from the hearth touched her face.
"You're kind of cute when you're… trying," he murmured.
Zhanna looked up, confused. "What?"
He stepped closer and gently brushed flour off her cheek, then her arm. His fingers lingered on her skin. She didn't pull away. Their eyes locked. He leaned in...
Clunk. The pot on the stove hissed, snapping them out of it.
They both turned quickly.
"Oh, right. The kurnik," she mumbled.
They slid the pie into the oven, working in awkward silence. Minutes passed, then the golden aroma filled the room.
Finally, the kurnik was ready.
Zhanna sliced a small piece, placed it on a wooden plate, and handed it to Shura.
"Taste it."
He did. Then raised a brow. "It's… actually good."
"Of course it is," she said smugly, popping a piece in her mouth. "We make a great team."
They looked around at the kitchen- flour on the walls, broken eggs on the floor, herbs scattered like confetti.
Shura laughed. "We're banned from here, aren't we?"
"Definitely."
They laughed together, cheeks flushed, crumbs between them, something unspoken hanging in the air.