Before Legat could speak, Marietta kissed him. She pulled him towards her, suddenly needing his arms around her. But a hidden tree root tripped her and she tumbled back into the snow. Legat stood for a moment, surveying her from above, his lips reddened from her kiss as she’d desperately eked out their inevitable farewell, his hair tousled from her fingers. His shirt ripped and stained from where she’d almost lost him. Her heart beat faster at the sight of him. He slowly, deliberately cast off his jacket and laid it down on the snow. Marietta brushed her cloak off and sat there, surrounded by forest and moonlight and the man she wanted. She reached for him and he went to her, kissing her with urgency, their limbs entwined, his muscles flexed as he held himself above her, her hands slipping inside his torn shirt, gliding down his bare back, marvelling at the new skin that had mended him.
He smiled, reached out to frame her face in his hands, tenderly rubbing her lip with his thumb before kissing her. His lips soft and gentle, his hands sliding to her neck, Marietta lost herself in him, time melting away in a syrup-sweet current. She sighed and grazed his back with her nails as their rhythm grew more urgent. Hungrier. He groaned and found his way beneath her dress, exploring her with his mouth, teasing her with his tongue until she cried out for more and his hands sank lower. ‘No matter what becomes of us I shall never stop being the luckiest man alive for having had you wander into my life,’ he said, his voice rough as he lowered his head, his lips grazing hers in a breathless kiss that sent her spinning.
She unbuttoned his trousers, wanting more, needing more, and wrapped her hand around him until he kissed her harder and flipped them around. She traced his face in her hands, memorising it until she knew it would fill her dreams forevermore. ‘I want you,’ she whispered, watching his throat bob up and down, his eyes darken at her words.
‘Are you certain?’
She nodded, biting her lip. He leant forwards and kissed her sweetly, lifting her atop him, slow and soft and tender until they were pressed together, moving as one. Marietta buried her cries in his shoulder as he filled his hands with her, coaxing her to fresh heights until she was soaring, as incandescent as a meteor shower.
After, she lay in his arms, Legat’s touch trailing along her back as they looked up at the starry sky together.
As the night deepened, Marietta couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Legat’s side. Lying there with his arms wrapped around her, her heart warm at the time they’d spent together, she felt she could never grow cold.
Until he whispered, ‘Come, we must return you to your world.’
The fir trees were shadowed, the snow coating their branches gleaming in starlight. Marietta felt as if she and Legat were the sole two occupants in this world of snow and stars. As they walked through the forest, she glanced up at him to find him already gazing down at her. His smile was a beam of moonlight. It tugged at something deep within her.
Though they maintained a careful watch, Marietta had to admit she had never glanced back upon her arrival and so had not the faintest notion what they were searching for.
‘Doors might resemble anything,’ Legat said after a while. ‘And I have heard tell of a thousand worlds, a hundred other lands a mere door away. Yet I have never heard the slightest mention of a world such as the one you hark from. It seems far vaster than anything I know.’
‘What are you attempting to tell me?’ Marietta asked quietly. She hoped it would take all night to locate her door just so she might carve out those extra hours with Legat. Her theory that it ought to be easier to bid him farewell this way was proving refutable.
‘That if this Drosselmeier is as powerful as you say, then it is entirely possible that he created this portal solely for you. It may not endure once you have crossed it once more. And your world may not possess another door back to Everwood.’
‘I know.’
A short while later, they found it.
A vintage armoire stood half-buried in snow. Surrounded by firs with delicate snowflakes pooling in the engraved roses that graced the pale cream wood.
Legat lifted Marietta, wrapping his arms around her as she memorised each touch, every kiss, each word he spoke, knowing that she would never forget them as long as she lived. Never forget him. Even when she had aged beyond recognition, gazing up at a different sky, a different world of constellations mapped out there, she would think of Legat.
‘This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do.’ Marietta leant her forehead against Legat’s.
‘And I.’ Legat held her close, kissed her deeply. His lips tasted of chocolate and snow, salted from her tears. His too, she realised, as his butterscotch eyes burnt into hers. ‘And I shall never stop thinking of you,’ he said. ‘No matter how many kings and queens come and go, how many stars join the skies, my heart shall be yours forevermore.’
She kissed him in response. Bit his lip to hear his soft growl, their kisses raw and wild, salt-flecked and laced with sweet sweet agony.
‘I shall disregard your warning for I know within my soul that one day I shall return to you,’ she said as he cupped her face, watching her mouth. ‘I have witnessed magic once in my world; now that I know it exists I shall find a way. Locate a door and come back to you. I promise.’
‘I do not wish for you to spend the rest of your days thinking of me. Go out there and chase your ambitions, Marietta,’ Legat said huskily. ‘Do not condemn yourself to a half-lived life. Live your life with all the richness of your dreams. Find someone to love. Though when you do care to remember me—’ He withdrew a hand from his jacket. His fingers uncurled to reveal a small mouse, carved from ice. ‘Perhaps you might keep this close. The ice is enchanted to never melt.’
‘I will find you.’ She smiled through her tears, slipping the mouse into her pocket. ‘We have already said goodbye before; what is one more world between us? After all, you said it was in the stars that we meet again.’
He rested his forehead against hers. ‘Then there is something you ought to know,’ he whispered. ‘If you should ever need it to find me once more, my starname is Vivoch. Each time I look up at the stars, I shall fill my thoughts with you.’
She kissed him hard. ‘I love you, Legat,’ she said.
Then she turned and ran through the door before she might hear him tell her not to come back, hear him say goodbye.
Chapter Forty-Four
The darkness felt thick and sticky, as if Everwood wasn’t quite ready to relinquish its hold on her. Marietta passed between layers of worlds and magic she couldn’t begin to fathom. It weighed her down, muddied her head. A faint chiming sounded in the distance and she stumbled towards it, the crunch of snow beneath her threadbare pointe shoes thinning as the chiming grew louder. Nearer.
The grandfather clock.
One final crunch and she felt the unmistakeable shift from snow-laden fir forest to wooden boards, exchanging the scent of snow, pine needles and sugar for wood and well-oiled mechanisms. A low light skulked round the edges of a rectangular panel ahead. Marietta pushed it open. She staggered out onto the elaborate set that Drosselmeier had constructed in the Stelle ballroom.
The grandfather clock was chiming midnight.
As the final chimes sounded, Marietta watched the clock seal itself shut. When she tried to open it once more, her fingers glided over the varnished wood; the panel no longer existed. She took a deep breath and turned to her own world.
The set was a distant memory. On occasions when her thoughts had turned to home during those months locked in the frozen sugar palace, she had conjured images of it decked out in all its festive glory. An exact replica of the last time she’d set eyes upon it. Yet now she was standing here it was odd that it hadn’t changed. Perhaps her parents had busied themselves with other matters. Or Frederick may have insisted on it; he was the most sentimental of the lot of them. Down to the snow globe with its tiny enchanted visions that she’d left perched on the stage, everything was identical. Except her. Her hair was a wild tangled creature, sc
attered with pine needles, her dress was still torn from her entry to Everwood and her pointe shoes were tattered. All marked her with the twist her life had taken, down to the scars she wore on her skin like a story.
She walked slowly across the stage. Picked up the snow globe and shook it. The flurries settled round a snowy fir forest with a tiny sleigh wandering through the trees. When she squinted, she discerned it was pulled by moose and carried a sole occupant.
The grandfather clock measured out the final chimes of the midnight hour.
An awareness prickled at Marietta in the silence that came rushing in. Snow globe still in hand, she whirled round.
Drosselmeier stood at the corner of the stage, leaning against a column, observing her. He was clad in the same suit which he had worn on Christmas Eve and in a crack of ice it all came back to her like a blizzard. His hands on her. Entrapping her within the ballroom. Ensuring she fled into a strange, cruel, wonderful world of magic and pain. Sending her into that world to toy with her, bend her mind to his, manipulate her until she shattered like a bauble. Yet she had not.
‘It is still Christmas Eve here,’ he said.
‘And you are the Grand Confectioner,’ she replied, finally voicing the suspicion that had haunted her for some time.
He inclined his head, holding out his arms like a show master. ‘You made for irresistible entertainment.’
Marietta’s world shuddered around her, the walls of her life turned fragile and pliable. She forced her heart to slam its doors shut, to resist asking the most precious question that danced upon the tip of her tongue. Instead she asked, ‘How did you come to possess such power? From whence did it originate and for what purpose did you send me into another world? I can only imagine you desired to punish me. Prove that I might be under your control.’
Drosselmeier’s smile chilled his pale-blue eyes. ‘Magic is without reason. Though I am greatly delighted to hear your acknowledgement of my power. That ought to ensure what is to come will proceed more smoothly.’
Marietta tamped her swelling emotions down. Iced her voice with calmness. ‘You dispatched me into a prison. I might have been killed or spent an eternity rotting away for your own amusement.’
‘And yet you were not.’
‘Whatever you believe is to come, whatever insidious purpose you might be planning to wield your power for, I assure you that I shall hold no part in it.’
Drosselmeier’s lips carved into a thin smile. Something elusive darted over his face. Marietta had glimpsed it before on occasion and wondered at it but this time she placed it. It was magic. It crackled in the air around him, strong and heady and potent. Once, she had not been able to recognise it; yet after a spell in Everwood, she had become well acquainted with all manner of enchantments. She took a step back. She had been naïve enough to believe that being in a magicless world would have ensured they were on more of an equal level. Yet his magic seemed stronger than ever. ‘What are you?’ she breathed.
‘I am but a man.’
She shook her head as he walked slowly towards her, relishing her reaction, examining her portance for a flutter of fear. ‘No ordinary man could have the abilities that you possess.’
A strange light gleamed in his eyes. ‘Ah, yet I have never claimed to be an ordinary man. I tend to find ordinary things rather dull, do you not agree?’ He reached her then, with her back pressed against the castle set. He stretched out a hand towards her.
She slapped it away. ‘From whence does your power originate?’ She wished she could save even a mere crumb of his magic for the future. A future where she might seek out Legat once more.
Drosselmeier surveyed her with cold amusement. ‘Oh, meine kleine Tänzerin,’ he murmured, ‘attempting to prise her way into my secrets. Do you think me that foolish to share them with you?’
Marietta said nothing.
He leant closer. ‘My power is ranked with the gods of old and the sons of Finn, with the queens that reigned in the olden fables.’
Marietta sighed. She rather missed the directness of the Everwoodians. Here, the mere act of holding a conversation with another seemed fraught with pretension. ‘I find your constant espousing of your own merit and quoting poems to be most tiresome. Yet it is of little consequence now. Your magic might be as deep as a starlit sky and I still should not accept your betrothal.’
The smile slid from his face.
‘Nothing holds more value for me than my own freedom.’ Marietta evaded his arm and walked off the stage.
A ripple of thick fabric sounded behind her. Marietta glanced back, wary at once. Drosselmeier had opened the red velvet curtains on the stage. He stood between them, his form shadowed. ‘You are not a woman that might find satisfaction in dresses, jewels or furs. Not since you have had a taste of magic. The very blood in your veins shall clamour for it. Only I possess the means with which to grant you a life of enchantment.’
Marietta looked away. ‘I have had quite enough of your magic.’ She continued walking down the ballroom until she reached the doors. Her heart beat in irregular rhythms as she grasped the handle, daring to hope they might be unlocked. She needed to seize an opportune moment in which to secure a weapon. Arm herself against Drosselmeier’s advancements, against the magic he would wield against her, attempting to bend her to his will. She needed a blade.
‘What of your darling captain?’ Drosselmeier called after her.
Slowly, Marietta turned. His gaze rubbed against her skin. Spoke of ownership. It discomfited her.
‘Would you prefer your rather touching farewell to be a true parting?’
The knowledge that he had been watching her at her most raw, intimate moments sent her thoughts pirouetting. Witnessing her and Legat’s slow descent into something more, something deeper. ‘Your elaborate manipulation took a misstep, did it not?’ She voiced her creeping realisation. ‘You desired to exert your power over me. Manipulate me for your own entertainment, my punishment for daring to decline your proposal.’ Her laugh was bitter and gleeful at once. ‘The last thing you had expected was for me to fall in love with another. A love which you would then be forced to witness.’
Drosselmeier’s face might have been carved from ice for the lack of reaction he gave. The smallest twitch in the corner of his mouth betrayed his fury. A single finger tapping against his arm. The rigidity of his spine.
‘I shall never be yours.’ Marietta’s whisper twisted with spite. ‘Yet I gave all of myself to him.’
Drosselmeier stormed down from the stage. Marietta opened one of the doors but with a click of Drosselmeier’s fingers, it ripped from her grasp and slammed shut, sealing her inside the ballroom once more. She let forth a scream of rage as she pulled at it but it was to no avail.
Drosselmeier tore the snow globe from her hand. ‘Actually I do believe you shall be. For if you do not become mine—’ He shook the snow globe slowly, his gaze resting on Marietta as the snow settled. It revealed Legat, sitting in a sleigh in the midst of the forest. ‘Well, I shall make a true soldier out of your precious captain.’ He held a hand above the snow globe and, with a choked cry, Marietta watched Legat forced to his feet, his body turning rigid. His face adopted a strange cadence, his expression stiffening, taking on a resemblance of the nutcracker she had found beneath her pillow in Everwood.
‘No,’ Marietta whispered.
‘A remarkable little charm,’ Drosselmeier continued, ‘and a nutcracker is rather useful this time of year, is it not?’ His smile was a wicked show of triumph.
Marietta lifted a foot forward. Pointed her toes. And snapped her leg up, shattering the snow globe with a single grand battement. She had not skills in steel and blade yet she possessed a great strength all of her own. In a tinkling of glass, the snow globe lost its magic and Drosselmeier’s grasp on his failed. The miniature Legat shook off Drosselmeier’s spell, his butterscotch eyes staring into the distance as if he could glimpse Marietta through the bounds of reality for a beat. She watched until the
vision of him melted away.
Marietta glanced at Drosselmeier. His face had paled to the cold fury of an ice storm. Sparks raged between his fingertips. He opened his mouth to speak, to unleash some untold horror upon her.
In a flash of fear, Marietta spun past him and grasped a candelabra from the nearest table.
Drosselmeier began muttering; unintelligible words pitched too low for comprehension.
Marietta’s fingers tightened round the bronze candelabra, prepared to battle. A growing coldness against her leg tugged her attention down. When she slid a hand into her pocket, her fingers brushed ice. And paper.
Before Drosselmeier could draw another breath, Marietta swung the candelabra at his head. He evaded her with ease. As she had intended. She whipped her leg back in an attitude derrière Madame Belinskaya would have applauded. High enough for the box of her pointe shoe to crack into Drosselmeier’s head. He staggered back, his magic flickering.
With shaking fingers, Marietta pulled out the small twist of paper the market woman had bestowed upon her when she’d first entered Everwood, tore it open and poured the entire contents on Drosselmeier.
The magic clouded out and Marietta stepped back. Drosselmeier had not yet regained his senses; his gaze was unfocused. He attempted to speak but coughed instead, having inhaled part of the cloud. The rest nestled against his skin.
Her heart shuddering beneath her bodice, Marietta watched the moment he became aware of his fate. Drosselmeier’s fury swelled, his anger a visceral beast devouring his composure. He reached out but she danced away. Then Drosselmeier started to shrink. Marietta found herself unable to glance away. With a scream of rage, Drosselmeier shrank to the size of a child, then a baby. Marietta dropped the candelabra, frozen in morbid fascination. And still he continued to shrink until he was as small as the mice that had flitted over King Gelum’s brocaded suits. Then, a thimble. A thimble-sized man, a real-life approximation of Tom Thumb, gesturing at her and shouting in tiny, high-pitched squeaks she failed to understand.
Midnight in Everwood Page 28
