Her breath a feathered plume, she buried her hands in the pockets of her cape. Something crinkled against her fingertips. Marietta frowned and pulled it out. It was a note, written on a scrap of parchment and wrapped around a small sachet. It proclaimed itself as:
Shrinking dust.
Apply a fingertip’s worth to shrink any part of yourself you desire.
Marietta thought of the woman’s tiny nose and wondered if she’d added it on purpose. She shook the thought away; with a woman driving such a hard bargain as she, it was sure to simply have been forgotten in the pocket. She tucked the sachet into her dress pocket, sank her hands into the velvety depths of her cloak, and continued her slow, trudging progress through this frostbitten world.
Staring up at the unrecognisable stars, she noticed they were brighter and more numerous than the constellations on Earth. The realisation struck her with the force of confronting something bigger than a mortal mind could comprehend, that of being immersed in a world other than hers. She kept walking, deeper into the silence. She grew colder and colder and colder.
Suddenly, a whisper curled her senses with fear.
Chapter Fifteen
Marietta grasped her pointe shoes; the box inside them was hard and would suffice as a make-shift weapon. She turned to see … nothing. Perhaps she had imagined it, a trick of the cold or a symptom of overexposure.
A second whisper hissed through the air.
‘Show yourself,’ she demanded.
It fell silent. Marietta began to feel most peculiar. As if she was being watched. Not trusting whatever strange creature might be stalking her through the forest, Marietta ran. The star-dappled snow lit her way through the firs. Yet each tree she passed seemed to darken with shadows. She slowed, watching them closely. The forest was filled with wild and twisting shadows. The air around her felt tighter, as if she had inhaled one and now it ensnared her lungs, grasping tendrils wrapping around her, suffocating her from within. She whirled around, breathing harder. And yet, the more she stared at them, the harder they were to discern. They were an ephemeral substance, nothing but wisps of smoke dragged together with malice cobwebbed across them.
Marietta fled. Her lungs heaving, her throat closing with panic, she ran towards where she approximated the town ought to be. But the sweet melody that had first entranced her had vanished long ago and all that lay before her were firs and snow and stars. She ran deeper into the forest. A stray branch lashed out, slicing her arm, and she cried out.
Branches drooped under the weight of the snow blanketing the forest. Once, Madame Belinskaya had told stories of the stretch of ice that comprised Siberia, wild and vast, and Marietta had shivered to hear them. Now she found herself venturing further into this land, she couldn’t help imagining how one could lose themselves in a place such as this.
She forced herself to run faster, her breath tearing from her lungs. Her cut was a long scarlet thread from which droplets beaded down onto the snow. Her fairy tale had become Hansel and Gretel, cut from a darker cloth. When she glanced back, she saw her blood freezing in place like tiny rubies. A dark mist was stalking her, following the blood trail. Marietta let out a quiet sob no one would hear and ran on, weaving between the gigantic firs, despairing of her pursuing fate. It became harder to breathe and eventually she slowed.
Shadow pooled at her feet and the air was suddenly awash with whispers. Harsh and guttural, they were in no language she might discern yet they spoke of her darkest fears and stole her breath with their creeping fingers. Her chest squeezed tighter than an over-laced corset. She inched backward until she felt herself pressed against a fir. Its rough trunk scratched, the entire forest craving a bite of her flesh. ‘What are you?’
The whispers thickened until a thousand voices filled her head, pressing against her skull, choking her with fear and doubt, and all the while the forest grew darker and darker until even the stars were a memory. She stumbled and reached her palm out, arresting her fall on a tree. It was wracked with vibrations. A distant trembling shook the forest. Something was moving towards her. The reverberations grew louder and nearer before she placed the sound; hooves pounding into the snow.
The shadows soared at her like a great-winged bat and wrapped their wings of darkness around her, close and suffocating. Marietta’s vision shuttered and she fell into the snow. With great effort, she reopened her eyes, watching the tendrils snaking around her. Her thoughts were crystallised as old honey, her breaths slow and shallow as if she were drowning in a sticky sea of it.
In a spray of snow and a deep grunting, a large sleigh appeared, rushing through the firs. Two moose pulled it, crowned with widespread antlers. Filigreed silver runners swirled up into ornate mice that fronted the sleigh, staring through the forest with hunters’ eyes. Glossy obsidian sides were hung with lanterns that flickered with an icy glow and four soldiers sat within, on garnet-cushioned benches. The one at the forefront spotted Marietta in the snow and gave a sharp pull on the reins, halting the pair of moose.
The darkness having receded a little at their presence, Marietta rose to her feet. Tendrils of shadow clung to her feet, coiling up her legs.
A soldier exited the sleigh. He was dressed in the same fashion as the others; a double-breasted garnet jacket, adorned with gold buttons and epaulettes, and cream breeches tucked into black boots. Tall, with broad shoulders and sculpted features, he regarded her seriously. He appeared as if he had been painted from one palette; his irises were butterscotch, his face golden and capped with bronze hair. He reminded Marietta of the bronzes she’d studied in Athens when her father had taken her and Frederick in the name of education. She swayed on her feet, unsure for a moment if she was walking those buttery sunshine streets once more, but no; that soft glow was silvered starlight. It had returned. Yet still the darkness clung to her, its whispers softer, scuttling into her ears alone, her breaths catching in her throat.
Before she could speak, the soldier unsheathed a silver sword, cutting through the air, a whisper’s-width from Marietta’s arm. She gasped and looked down. The sword was agleam with the light of a thousand stars. It cut through the shadows like smoke and severed their hold on Marietta. She filled her lungs with relief, holding an unsteady hand to her chest.
The shadows crept away and misted out of sight.
The soldier considered Marietta. She met his eyes, her head echoing with warnings.
‘The forest is no place for wanderers. You are fortunate you merely encountered the Shadows,’ he said at last, sheathing his sword. ‘I am Captain Legat, leader of the King’s Army, and I shall grant you our assistance if you’ll accompany us.’ He failed to voice it as a question. Stepping back into the sleigh, he took up the reins once more. The moose pawed the snow in impatience.
Another soldier hopped from the sleigh and offered her his hand. Marietta hesitated. The captain glanced back at her. ‘My offer shall not stand for much longer.’
Marietta stiffened at his tone. ‘I’m merely contemplating whether or not to trust you.’
The soldier offering his hand smiled. ‘Listen. Do you hear that?’
Other than the soldiers and moose, the forest was silent. Marietta looked at him in confusion. His smile turned wicked. ‘In Everwood, we say when the forest sings with life, you may bide your time for its attentions reside elsewhere. It is when the forest falls silent that it has turned its eye on you.’
She looked back. The trees devoured the horizon, their silence becoming ever more ominous the longer she considered it. There was not a branch sighing in the breeze, no suggestion of birdsong, nor the soft patter of shifting snow.
Marietta gave her hand.
He helped her up into the front of the sleigh, beside Captain Legat, who had first come to her aid. ‘Will you take me back to my world?’ she asked him.
‘We are returning to the palace,’ he said, snapping the reins and sending the moose charging back through the forest, the sleigh soaring through the snow after them.
Chapter Sixteen
Outside the sleigh, snow-coated firs rushed by at a rapid rate, infinite as the stars. Marietta took a deep, steadying breath.
‘The Shadows are terrifying. They bring out your inner darkness, prey on your hiddenmost weaknesses and fears,’ one of the soldiers said, leaning forwards. Marietta shivered. ‘Though you’re most fortunate you didn’t meet with worse. If you’ll allow me, I need to inspect your arm.’ He held a thick white cloth. ‘My name is Fin,’ he added softly as if it would help her trust him. Strangely, it did.
Marietta held out her bloodied arm. She took the opportunity to study the three soldiers sitting shoulder to shoulder in the back of the sleigh. Fin appeared of a similar age to herself, with curly black hair, warm brown skin and high cheekbones. The other two were a handful of years older and facsimiles of each other with blond hair and steely eyes in a paler, rosy face. Brothers, perhaps. The younger of which had been the one to help her into the sleigh.
‘These injuries are superficial. Pass me some snow, will you?’ Fin asked the brothers beside him.
The third soldier scooped up a handful of snow and passed it forward. His hand was missing its two smallest fingers. His eyes were sharp, evaluating, and Marietta determined never to underestimate him.
Fin gently cleaned Marietta’s arm before binding with a cloth. Her skin tingled beneath it like a sherbet lemon on her tongue.
‘And you mean to tell me there are worse things lurking in this forest?’ She turned her gaze back to the watchful trees. Ever present, ever silent.
Fin met her eyes. ‘Yes. It is wise not to attract undue attention in these parts. Those worse things? They glom onto blood trails and will hunt you to the stars and back for a taste. The Shadows are unsettling and can melt your wits, but they cannot touch you.’ When he removed the cloth, Marietta was startled to find her lacerated skin had knitted together, already the pale pink of new flesh. ‘Thank you,’ she said, running her fingers over it. The commonplace utilisation of magic made Marietta’s brain itch as she failed to apply logic to the phenomenon. Witnessing enchantments in this vein was far from the old beliefs of cunning folk or an infatuation with parlour magic.
‘I wouldn’t thank him,’ the younger brother said. ‘Fin isn’t being chivalrous; he’s far more interested in preserving his own hide.’
Fin stood up and flung the bloodied cloth far from the sleigh. ‘Can I not be both?’ he asked. His voice was cut through with a seam of compassion that his gentle working hands had also conveyed.
‘I’m Claren,’ the younger brother said, ignoring Fin as he continued to appraise Marietta. ‘This is my brother, Danyon.’
The sharp-eyed Danyon gave her a smart nod. Marietta inclined her head, noticing that Danyon’s hair was cut shorter, his uniform neater than his brother’s.
‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ Marietta said. Their accents were deep and harsh, the cadence of their voices taking some time to become accustomed to. ‘You may call me Marietta.’ A howl pierced the silent forest. Wild and guttural and close. The soldier sat beside Marietta urged the moose to gallop faster, the tableau of trees whipping by. ‘How does the town survive living alongside such a dangerous forest?’ she asked.
‘You’ll find that it takes more than a few beasts to threaten Everwood. Not with the King’s Army defending it.’ Claren grinned at her.
Marietta couldn’t help considering that he would have enjoyed Frederick’s company and the sudden thought jolted her; she ought to find a way back home. She had dwelled in this world with its enchantments and dangers longer than originally intended and was disconcerted to discover her awareness of time had become muddled. Perhaps she ought to secure passage back soon. Phantom eyes burnt Marietta’s back, her fear of Drosselmeier an ever-present shadow reminiscent of the abonné lurking in Degas’s L’Étoile. She tossed a smile over her shoulder at Claren, scanning the dark expanse of trees at his back.
‘Now is not the time to charm a wanderer,’ Danyon told his younger brother before turning to Marietta. ‘The river marks the boundary of Everwood. There are wards in place to guard against the threats of the Endless Forest.’
‘Everwood is your town? I had been led to believe it was the name of this world.’ Marietta ignored the blush crawling over her neck. She was all too aware of her unchaperoned position among the four men, though their lack of response to the situation indicated their social values were as differing as the worlds they inhabited. A small smile flitted over her lips at the thought of Miss Worther’s expression if she could see Marietta now.
Danyon shook his head. ‘No, our world is Celesta. Everwood resides in the frozen east, Mistpoint in the flowered fields and cruel tides of the south, and Crackatuck in the green-valleyed west. The Thieves Road connects the three kingdoms, cutting through the forest and climes, though it isn’t warded.’
‘And all manner of dastardly bandits roam it,’ Claren added, his smile tipping higher on one side. ‘Brave or foolish enough to take their chances on the open, unwarded road. Though Everwood isn’t always as protected as Danyon would have you believe.’ He winked at Fin. ‘Remember when the Grand Confectioner lost his mind on snowberry crèmes and the enchantment slipped, allowing an intruder to rampage the palace?’ Claren and Fin laughed.
‘Have you quite finished divulging palace secrets to a wanderer?’ the butterscotch-eyed soldier asked, his voice crisp as snow.
Marietta stole a look at him. His focus was on the moose he guided between fir trees, an immense ice gate crystallising before them. He radiated strength and quiet power, a knife in the dark. If Danyon was not to be underestimated, then Captain Legat was to be avoided altogether.
‘Sorry, captain,’ Claren and Fin said, snapping to attention.
‘She ought to know a little of our world if she’s to accompany us to the palace,’ Danyon said. His jacket bore similar gold epaulettes to the captain’s, more ornate than Claren and Fin’s. Marietta failed to understand the embroidered pattern of swirls that marked them. Though she was well versed in the strategy of warfare through her meandering studies from the Greco-Persian Wars to the Warring States, she held not a scrap of interest in the pomp and trivialities that accompanied such battles. But she did observe that the captain’s held a tiny embroidered mouse holding a golden sword.
The captain’s knuckles paled around the reins. ‘She ought to be returning whence she came,’ he muttered under his breath.
Marietta’s own misgivings at heading towards the palace melted away into defiance at his attitude, which seemed an echo of her father’s. ‘Well, I do apologise for my most unwelcome presence, but it isn’t as though I intended to linger in your world, or indeed enter it in the first place,’ she said stiffly.
‘You wanderers never do, yet still you seem to drift about our town like aimless snowflakes until your fate calls for you,’ he said.
Marietta turned her curiosity on him. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
Fin cleared his throat. ‘You are not the first wanderer we’ve rescued from the Endless Forest. Everwood oft seems to be a beacon for those that have lost their star’s shining path.’
‘The Grand Confectioner seems to welcome them, though I cannot think why he should,’ the captain said. Marietta didn’t know how to respond. After a silence thick as clotted cream, the captain spoke again, over his shoulder. ‘Someone pass her that blanket.’
Fin handed it forward. ‘Don’t mind Captain Legat; his head whirls with concerns the rest of us couldn’t see through a snowstorm.’
She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. Matching the sleigh’s rich garnet, it was lined with soft white fur and warmed her chilled flesh at once.
The sleigh hurtled through the ice gate and onto a marzipan-cobbled path, frozen and slippery enough to grant them passage. A soft sigh escaped Marietta’s lips in a puff of sugared air.
A delicate ice bridge arched over the lake she’d glimpsed earlier, extending to the frozen mountain the palace topped.
Ice cliffs encircled it, the waterfalls suspended in time, sparkling in sapphire and opal and moonshine. The palace was a meringue, piped impossibly high. It held no windows, instead the walls glowed and shimmered with light. Blush pink, pearl and mauve, layers of creamy pastels swirling up and up and up, to the peak, gleaming the same hue as Degas’s Blue Dancers in the distance.
‘What a beautiful sight,’ Marietta breathed. ‘I cannot comprehend how it was constructed from sugar alone.’
‘All sugar and frozen solid, too. The Grand Confectioner designed it himself.’ Claren draped his arms over the back of the front bench, gazing up at it with Marietta.
‘Who is the Grand Confectioner?’ The term seemed self-explanatory yet the god-like reverence afforded him gave Marietta pause.
Legat coughed under a white-gloved hand.
Marietta slid a look to the captain. ‘If you do not wish me to educate myself on your world, why are you escorting me to the palace?’
‘I’m not.’ Legat’s clipped tones severed her argument. The huffing moose approached the beginning incline of the ice bridge.
Marietta caught the puzzlement that swept across Fin’s face before he appropriated the same soldier’s mask Captain Legat wore. Danyon passed no remark. Claren, his uniform as lapsed as his attitude, was sole in his protestations. ‘The ball will be in full enchantment at this hour. Think how beguiling a sight that would be for her!’
‘I have not a granule of doubt she will survive missing it,’ Legat said. ‘Once I’ve had the moose stabled, I shall send a guard to escort you to your door, wanderer.’
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