Winterdream

by Chantal Gadoury

  “And you will tend to me?” I asked, sliding my fingers over the soft skirt of my dress.

  “Of course,” Marzipan said with a bright smile. Unable to resist the sweet scent in the air, I strolled to the tray, picking up a delectable pastry. It was piled high with slices of cooked apples and hints of cinnamon and sugar.

  Rumtopf had certainly put his best foot forward.

  “We should get you to the dining room. I wouldn’t want you to be late for dinner.”

  I stared at the pastry in my hand, regretting the inability to taste the obvious deliciousness.

  “I’ll be sure to leave some fresh pastries for you upon your return,” she promised, tilting her head toward the door. I took a bite, savoring the wonderful taste before I lowered the rest back onto the tray.

  I grabbed the pair of shoes waiting for me and slipped them on as I stumbled after Marzipan through the main hallways. I followed her through the winding corridors, passing many of the other courtiers as they went by. They all stopped to watch and give a nod of greeting. I felt strange in the way they all paused, as if I were a princess.

  Marzipan turned into a large marble room where Lady Irina and the Nutcracker were standing beside an open window; the sun was nearly gone. The sky was a hue of dark purples and blues. Their faces wore a similar expression: distress. I stopped, watching the two of them while Marzipan entered the room fully. Lady Irina was the first to glance in my direction. She hopped up and glided toward me.

  “Good evening, Lady Clara.”

  The Nutcracker’s blue gaze caught mine from across the room.

  “Did you sleep well?” Irina asked as she came to stand by my side.

  “Yes, thank you,” I replied, darting my gaze to her.

  Marzipan bowed and turned, leaving me alone with the two of them. As Irina guided me to where the Nutcracker was standing, I took a moment to admire the room. In the far corner, many shelves were adorned with old, decaying books. Two marigold sofas were situated adjacent, near the shelves. I felt her hand on my back as she gestured to the tray of tea and pastries; many of which resembled the same that Marzipan had brought to my room.

  “Can I get you anything?” she offered, gesturing to the selection. “Dinner will be served shortly.”

  I looked to the Nutcracker, who was watching me closely. His frown suddenly changed into a small, but encouraging grin.

  “Thank you, but no,” I responded softly, folding my hands in front of me.

  “The Nutcracker was just telling me of your heroic story. The Mouse King had attacked in your parlor. . . and the ride to the castle.” The way her voice remained calm and curious sent a shiver of uncertainty down my spine.

  “How terrified you must have been, to be just a girl against that horrible beast,” she continued, lifting the small teacup with her long fingers.

  As I watched her, I was struck with the most unusual urge to run. There was something calculating in her eyes—something in the way she stood. She was not at all what she appeared to be. Lady Irina was dressed elegantly; the bodice of her gown was pitch black, and only changed to a pure white toward the skirt of the dress. Her chest was covered in a jeweled shawl, where hundreds of diamonds glittered in the candlelight. Across her forehead, she wore an ornate, diamond frontlet.

  “But we’re so glad to have you here again, Lady Clara,” she said with a smile, touching my shoulder affectionately.

  “Thank you for your kindness,” I managed to murmur, and looked away. I knew staring was rude, and Mama would have chided me for doing so.

  “We must thank you for bringing back our prince,” Lady Irina said with a smile and extended her hand out to the Nutcracker.

  He took a step toward the two of us. She smiled brightly at him. Perhaps it was more than mere friendliness that she felt. A surge of scalding jealousy made my blood singe.

  “And now we must prepare for the battle with the Mouse King,” she said with a sigh. “I always did hate that rodent.”

  “We’ll talk of the battle later,” the Nutcracker said, lifting his hand to gently hold my elbow. “Clara, I thought perhaps I could give you a tour of the castle before dinner.”

  “Oh,” Irina said with a certain feigned surprise. “I thought we could discuss the rest of our matters before our meal. I did not want to trouble you or Lady Clara as we enjoy dinner. I could call upon Pyotr to give a tour, your highness.”

  I was grateful at the thought of enjoying a meal without the talk of mice and war. And I could understand her eagerness to discuss their plans. I could still see the bright, bloodthirsty eyes of the mice in my mind.

  “Of course, I understand if you wish to take Clara yourself,” she finished, taking a long sip from her tea cup. From the expression on the Nutcracker’s face, he was torn by his duty and what he desired. My stomach twisted, knowing what I needed to do.

  “I’d like to help,” I offered. “A tour of the palace can wait.”

  “Our conversation will be rather dull for you, I’m sure.” A ball of hot, white anger tightened in my stomach. Was she patronizing me? Nothing about planning for this battle would be dull. And if I was to help break the spell, I needed to help the Nutcracker defeat the Mouse King.

  “It won’t be,” I said, shaking my head. “I can be of use to the planning.”

  Lady Irina clicked her tongue and smiled. I could tell by the way it didn’t nearly reach her eyes, it was forced.

  “I’m sure his highness would agree with me,” Lady Irina began gently. “We need not worry you with the troubles of Winter Dream.”

  As I glanced back to the Nutcracker, I could see the conflict growing in his eyes. Did he not wish for me to help? I thought he want me to stay. With a sigh of reluctance, I bit the inside of my cheek and slowly gave a consenting nod.

  “I don’t wish to cause any trouble, Lady Irina,” I said softly, shaking my head. “I’d be happy to have a tour from Pyotr.”

  I felt the Nutcracker’s hand brush along the small of my back. I met his blue gaze, finding it full of regret. I didn’t understand. Isn’t this what he wanted?

  “Indeed,” Lady Irina purred, smiling. Lowering her cup to the tray, she moved across the room to a nearby curtain. She pulled on a long, golden cord, and the trill of a bell filled the air. A moment later, a tall man, dressed in a regal, royal blue jacket with gold embroidery came through the doorway behind me.

  “This is Pyotr. He is one of the many gracious servants of Winter Dream,” Lady Irina said to me and gestured to him. “He can give you a tour of the entire palace.” Pyotr crossed the room to stand beside me. He bowed and clicked the heels of his shoes together as he did so.

  “Hello, Lady Clara,” Pyotr responded as he offered his arm to me.

  The Nutcracker caught my hand before I slipped away from him. He pressed his lips against my ear.

  “This won’t take long,” he promised softly.

  I only responded with a gentle nod and turned to take Pyotr’s arm.

  Chapter 16

  “Is there anything else you wish to see?” Pyotr asked as he guided me back toward the main entrance of the castle.

  After exploring the large kitchens, the many extravagant bedrooms, stables, and libraries, I had been certain there could be nothing else to see. Pyotr had been an excellent tour guide, giving me detailed descriptions of the castle, the roles of certain rooms, and the people inside. But I couldn’t keep my mind from the Nutcracker or Lady Irina, who I had left behind in the dining room. What was it about defeating the Mouse King that I couldn’t hear? I knew this tour had just been a calculated diversion on Lady Irina’s part.

  Pyotr cleared his throat, startling me from my thoughts.

  “What about the costumes you wear?” I asked softly, gesturing to his blue suit. “I see others dressed rather differently from you.”

  “It is to represent the lands we come from, Lady Clara,” he said with a smirk. “Winter Dream is comprised of many different lands.”

  “Yes,
the Nutcracker mentioned that to me,” I said with a nod.

  “When you see a blue suit such as mine, you’ll know that we’re from the castle,” Pyotr explained. “We belong to the mainland of Winter Dream.”

  “And Marzipan?”

  “She belongs to the Flora Fallal.”

  “And the women dressed as flowers?” I asked. “They are also from the Flora Fallal?”

  Pyotr nodded, flashing a smile. His blond hair and blue eyes were striking.

  “Winter Dream is a place of delight, Lady Clara. Each land is magical in its own way. The Isle of Ice is known for their mystifying crystals, often used for decoration or a power source. You will find them scattered around the palace, and if you pay special attention to the grand chandelier in the main entrance, you will find the Isle’s masterpiece.

  As for the Flora Fallal, they have the most beautiful flowers ever seen. They grow herbs and special hybrids necessary for their apothecary. And Sugarland has the largest forest, covered in rich, sugary snow. As a representative, Lady Irina serves under his highness, passing on her intelligence gained from the first line of defense. It is also occupied by the most peaceful inhabitants.”

  “How fascinating,” I said, astonished by the detail. Nutcracker had not given me too much to go on, though our circumstances were understandably strained. Still, it was nice to understand more about how the dominion of Winter Dream functioned in this world.

  “I heard that you and the prince faced the Mouse King’s scouts in the forest,” he said softly, tucking his hands behind his back. “I admit I was quite surprised our intel had not reported it sooner. We haven’t seen much of him or of his mice.”

  “Oh?”

  “Lady Irina has been successful in keeping him at bay,” he added confidently. “But I suppose it shall all come to a head now that you’re here. Perhaps finally an ending, in a way. It is my hope that his highness and Lady Irina will finally be able to defeat the Mouse King.”

  “But—” I’m supposed to save him.

  “Look at the time,” Pyotr said, lifting a golden pocket watch from his side pocket. “It seems I’ve made you a bit late to dinner. He turned on his heel sharply and jerked his chin back in the direction of where we had come.

  “I apologize, Lady Clara.”

  “It’s alright,” I said with a nod.

  “When you have a moment, I suggest you go to the gardens. It’s quite beautiful there.”

  “The gardens?” I asked, peeking a glance over my shoulder to the two glass doors he had been guiding me toward.

  “Yes, it’s one of my favorite places here at the palace.”

  Perhaps, after dinner concluded, I could venture out on my own.

  He led me back through the large, winding hallways to the dining room, where the Nutcracker and Lady Irina were sitting. A vast selection of plates and bowls were on the table, making my mouth water.

  I recognized several dishes from home: a white herring salad, the pickled olivier salad, and the clear holodets meat jelly. There was a plate full of deviled eggs topped with fish roe, and a basket with warm, freshly-baked piroshki. On another plate, a fish decorated with olives, cream, and slices of lemon. Another bowl revealed boiled and buttered potatoes. Pyotr led me to a seat and bowed as I sat.

  He had just turned when I murmured, “Thank you.”

  He flashed a gentle smile. “Of course, Lady Clara. Don’t forget, the gardens.”

  “I won’t forget,” I promised.

  As I turned my attention back to the Nutcracker and then to Lady Irina, I was met by her sharp smile and piercing eyes.

  “Did you enjoy your tour?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I replied quickly. My stomach rumbled with hunger as I eyed everything once again.

  “Now that you’re here,” she continued. “Let’s eat.”

  As I reached for a piroshki, I turned my gaze to the Nutcracker.

  “And your plans? What will we do?”

  “Let us not speak of battle plans now,” Lady Irina interrupted with a cold tone. “I’d rather spend this time talking of more—interesting things.”

  As she piled a spoonful of fish onto her plate and stared at me, she raised her brow, as if waiting to see if I would object. The look in the Nutcracker’s eye told me to hold off on my questions. I lifted a spoonful of the buttered potatoes to my lips and took a delicate bite. It was beyond delicious.

  “Tell me a little about yourself, Lady Clara,” Lady Irina mused as she slid a deviled egg between her lips. Everything was so delicate and perfect in the way she ate—in the way she held herself. Almost like a queen.

  “I’m the daughter of Lord and Lady Stahlbaum,” I replied. “And my family lives in St. Petersburg, Russia. I have a little brother. . . Fritz.”

  “Fritz’s army came to our rescue,” Nutcracker added cheerfully. “No doubt a turning point in the battle.”

  “How wonderful,” she said with a flash of a smile. “I should have liked to watch this battle transpire.”

  I struggled with what else to share. I lived my daily life following the rules Mama had set into place. I spent my mornings reading and practicing my needlepoint. I was to study the rules of etiquette—how to sit and speak and stand. How to address visitors, set a table, and plan a party. I knew it was my Mama’s hope that I would marry well; that I would run a household to a very important aristocrat, just as she did. Just like Masha.

  But such things could constitute as being uninteresting during a dinner conversation.

  “I’ve always dreamt of traveling the world,” I said hesitantly, drawing my gaze to the Nutcracker. “But I never expected to find myself here.”

  “If you could go anywhere in the world,” the Nutcracker asked, “Where would you choose?”

  In all the many places I had dreamed of, the countless atlases I gazed upon in my father’s study, the grandeur of Europe had always mesmerized me. There was so much to see, so many splendid places to visit, and I had been so young. If I had been born a man, I would have fancied myself an adventurer.

  Though I kept that lone thought to myself.

  “Paris, London, Rome…” I began. “The Americas. It is said the mountains glisten with gold during a sunrise. To see such a thing… it would be magical.”

  “Gold?” Lady Irina said with a soft laugh. “Is there such a thing?”

  “It sounds wonderful, Clara. Truly.” Nutcracker nodded.

  I pursed my lips and began to nibble at the food on my plate again. For the rest of the dinner, we all ate in silence. Lady Irina would peer at me curiously over her poured wine, and I would find myself gazing at the Nutcracker longingly. I suddenly wished we were back in the sleigh; just him and I.

  As soon as I was finished, the Nutcracker rose to his feet and extended his hand.

  “Would you like to have a walk in the gardens?”

  Lady Irina’s lips parted, as though she were about to say something, but I rose to my feet before she could protest. I smiled and nodded eagerly.

  “Yes, I’d love a walk in the garden.”

  Anything to get away. Anything to have a few stolen moments with him. He gave a polite nod to Lady Irina before he turned and guided me back out of the doors of the dining room.

  As we made our way down the hall, he turned his blue gaze to mine. The sound of our shoes against the marble echoed around us. I felt the rioting of butterflies in my stomach as I tried to focus on the paintings on the walls. I tried to find a face I could focus on, one that wasn’t as interesting as his, even just for a moment. A shiver ran down the length of my spine as I took another step, and then another. In the soft candlelight, the hallway felt warm… different.

  “You have so many beautiful things,” I remarked, gesturing to the walls lined with different paintings. I knew from the few parties I attended with Mama—to the grand homes belonging to several wealthy families in Russia, art was a valuable treasure.

  So many of the paintings reminded me of the ones back at home
; drawn so expertly. The faces of the women and men were so finely detailed, I felt they were almost real. Where had they come from?

  “Clara,” the Nutcracker’s voice broke the steady silence. I turned my chin and gazed at him.

  “Yes?”

  He sucked in a breath as he slowed his pacing. The garden doors were not far from where we were; I could make them out from where we were standing.

  But he remained silent as he watched me. As though he had something important to say, but was not sure how to best express himself.

  I paused, caught by a painting that just over his shoulder. It was of a woman, dressed in a silk, turquoise gown, in the middle of a wintry field. In her hand, she carried a long candle, illuminated by a flickering orange flame. Her brunette hair was untamed, ruffled in the wintry wind as an unseen force blew strands around her cheeks and chin. There was something about her that felt so far away, and yet, so familiar. Her sea green eyes haunted me, and I couldn’t look away.

  It was almost like looking in a mirror; the girl in the portrait could have been me.

  “It’s called ‘The Traveler’,” he murmured beside me.

  A small smile crept on my face as I exhaled slowly.

  “I envy her,” I confessed. “It was my dream to travel. To see the world.”

  “And you can’t?” the Nutcracker asked, arching his brow in surprise. As my gaze lingered on the painting, I could see her own longing; our shared desire.

  “Does she have a story?” I asked, turning to glance at the Nutcracker. He gazed at the painting and shook his head.

  “If she does, I’ve never heard it before.”

  "My mama once told me that they paint us like that on purpose,” I said, gesturing to the woman who stood so silently still. But there was something she was trying to say beyond the exterior of the canvas.

  “There is more mystery left to the imagination,” I continued. “They want to know what we are thinking, but they never want to hear us.”

  The Nutcracker peered at me and then slowly turned his attention to the painting.

  “So many times, I’ve seen portraits in galleries of the faces of nameless women. Their beauty was enough to remember, but not who they were. Not their hopes or dreams,” I said as I bit my lip as I slowly darted my eyes to his.