“At every turn. He fetched his faithful horse and tried riding out, but the gates slammed closed. He tried every door, every window, but walls rose in the place of the openings.” Evgeni was grinning, his arms swinging to demonstrate how the walls would have moved. “Our Cossack lashed out, smashing all the dishes, breaking all the decorations, shattering the mirrors. And then the next day when he came down, he found the banquet table empty. ‘It is my own fault,’ he said. ‘If I hadn’t behaved as I did yesterday, then I wouldn’t be hungry today.’ Only after he’d admitted this did food reappear.”

Another creak overhead, and this time it was quickly followed by a footfall on the wooden stairs in the back of the store. Nadya shifted, ready to slip out the open door just beside her.

The girl’s frown didn’t ease. “A fine moral, I suppose, but . . .”

“But?” Evgeni pocketed the change. “There is no but. Three days later, the fair maiden appeared to him, and all the gates were opened. She told him he had served out his time, and that he had freed her from the enchantment put upon her by an evil sorcerer who had been in love with her. She had scorned him, and he had turned her into a snake. But her parents would be so overjoyed at her freedom that her father, a king, would surely grant the Cossack anything he asked for.”

“No, that isn’t right at all.” Claire slapped a hand to the counter. “He didn’t serve out his time. Not willingly. The castle took the choice from him. Had it been left to him, he’d have lost it all less than a week from completion!”

Her father was at the bottom of the stairs. He’d be coming around the shelves any moment. Nadya coiled, ready to spring. Evgeni chuckled at Claire’s frustration and took a step away from the counter. “Perhaps the castle was on his side. Or perhaps it was the princess, helping him.”

“Not good enough.” Claire lifted her pretty little chin. “A man doesn’t deserve to be the hero of the tale unless he can make sound decisions on his own.”

“Well. Perhaps you will prefer his decisions in the second half of the story. Next time?”

She glanced toward the back of the shop, where her father was coming into view. Nadya took her cue and darted out the door. Though still she heard the girl say, “Next time. Bonsoir, Zhenya.”

“Bonsoir, fair maiden.” With a wink, he hurried out of the store.

He nearly collided with Nadya on the sidewalk, where she’d stopped to wait for him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He held up the parcel of food and switched his speech back to Russian. “Success.”

She pivoted on her heel. “I ought to have known you’d get it by flirting.”