thick of the Urals. I watched copper-tinged snow fall. It was winter, 1913, and I was fourteen years old. The Popovas, our regents – we knew no tsar in

streaks of green and cinnamon striated like ve

twirled it round my thumb. Azovka smiled, her malachite eyes and verdigris legs shining in the o

es looked on in fear. The townsfolk treated the Popovas with awe and superstition. But Azovka was my friend – though immortal. I trusted the Copper Men in a way Prokovitch the Stonecutter did not. I c

es from hunting and lifting heavy stones for father – shining in contrast to Azovka’s slim elegance.

ld playing cards had green crowned lizards on them with m

ka’s queen with my king of hearts.

e fur coats and ate lunch down by the stoneworks. The grain mill churned in the distance, and horses and buggies rode through the crossway, carrying iron, copper, malachite

ending all night with the dough. Azovka liked to bake. We dipped the rye bread in the soup from the thermos. Our mothers had both

The Copper Guard ran a vast network exporting the Ural Mountain’s riches past the Malachite Gates and importing minerals from abroad

e from the river,” I smiled, han

th her pearly teeth. They cut the gem like butter, and the lizards that always thronged by her feet thrum

r Kingdom. And I always liked pretty girls – I am ugly, dearest Azovka! I need a polished best friend to harp up my strengths when

n angels out of the cloudy powder. It cushioned our fur jackets. Azovka stuck her tongue out. “Not

ing at her embroidere

brimming with mirth. “Promise me you wil

d

, swallowing and spitting out some red clay, crossi

rhood. It was a tall, gaunt boy, with a mop of dusty blonde hair – a beggar in tattered cl

re, save Azovka, I had ever seen. “Sure,” I said,

r? I am princess of this town. Someday, I

ore into the bread. “

d in on hers

y on his elbow. “You s

in middle school. I’m sixteen

t look ol

zards crawl up his legs. The boy just smil

eep him. Fatten him up with my blinis. Make him pierogis and borscht. Ask him to

id. “Someday, I

“For what? I am

a said obtusely. “Look a

princess,

St. Petersburg to find a better life – rode the rails to here. Outside the Malachite Walls, beyond the reach of the Copper Guard – no

look and smiled. “Su

ck, a bright

it for that, beggar boy,” I said with all the love a fourteen-year-old girl could tease the

t the lizards. I lik

n the winter