Magic at Midnight

by Lyssa Chiavari

  “Then my heart can’t be pure enough, or else the curse would have broken already?” Clara’s bottom lip trembled as she spoke.

  Hans’ eyes turned down at the corners. “I’m sure there is nothing wrong with your heart, and maybe I misunderstood what the sorcerer said about the spell. If you’re willing to remain here until Christmas Eve, perhaps we can find a way to break this curse together?”

  “But my parents—they’ll be worried.”

  “I think it will be okay. Time behaves differently in the Land of Dolls than it does in the mortal realm. If I’m correct, I believe hardly any time at all will have passed.”

  Clara chewed on her bottom lip. Could it be true that time worked differently here? It wouldn’t be the first strange thing she’d witnessed. And if she did leave, what would happen to Hans, his subjects, and all the wonderful animals in the jungle?

  She nodded her head. “Okay. I’ll stay with you until Christmas Eve, and together, we will break this spell.”

  Hans grinned. “Wonderful. This calls for a celebration. I’ll inform the cook at once to prepare a great feast, and then afterward we’ll have a ball in your honor.”

  Clara blushed. “I can’t ask you to go to all that trouble on my account.”

  Hans waved her off. “Nonsense. It’s been far too long since we had a reason to celebrate, and besides, it’s almost Christmas. Don’t we deserve some holiday cheer?”

  Clara was smiling now too. It was impossible not to when the Nutcracker Prince was grinning at her so sincerely.

  “I’ll call the Sugar Plum Fairies,” he said. “And they can get you ready for the ball.”

  Clara looked down at the dress she’d worn to the Christmas ball in the city. It was slightly dirty now and completely rumpled. She couldn’t attend a royal ball in her current gown and was thankful Hans was calling the fairies to help.

  From his jacket pocket, Hans produced a small silver flute and played a series of high, haunting notes. A few moments later, the hallway in which they were standing illuminated in shades of pink, purple, and turquoise. Clouds of colorful smoke surrounded them, and then, in an explosion of glitter, three female figures appeared.

  All were tall, taller even than the Nutcracker, with ethereal beauty and long, flowing hair that looked to be made of spun silver. They had pointed ears and delicate facial features.

  The three fairies—one dressed in pink, another in purple, and the final in turquoise—curtsied to Hans and Clara.

  “Your Highness, how can we be of service?” asked the one dressed in pink.

  “This is Clara,” Hans said, taking her hand and leading her forward so she stood before the fairies. “She has agreed to stay in the palace until Christmas Eve to try to help us break the curse.”

  The fairy in the purple dress clapped her hands together. “This is wonderful. Thank you, Clara.”

  Clara blushed and looked away. These fairies were beautiful to behold, in flowing silk gowns, with iridescent wings sparkling on their backs. She couldn’t believe they were thanking her.

  “It is splendid news indeed,” said Hans. “Which is why I’m throwing a feast and ball in Clara’s honor. Would you three be kind enough to help her get ready?”

  The fairy dressed in turquoise smiled widely. “It would be our honor.”

  Hans passed Clara over to the fairies. “I will leave you in their capable hands, then, and go visit the cook.”

  Hans turned and walked away. Once he was out of sight, the fairies took Clara’s hands and led her back to the bedroom she’d woken in.

  “I’ll run you a bath,” said the fairy in pink, opening a door leading onto the bedroom.

  “Here, why don’t you change into this?” said the fairy in purple, pulling open the wardrobe and handing Clara a plush, downy bathrobe.

  The three fairies stepped into the bathroom to give Clara some privacy to change.

  “I’m ready,” she called once she’d shed her ballgown and slipped the robe on. It was the softest thing she’d ever worn and she wondered if it was enchanted somehow.

  The fairies opened the bathroom door, and shimmering swirls of sweet-smelling steam followed them out.

  “It’s made from clouds,” the turquoise fairy said, answering Clara’s unspoken question.

  “We’ve left you some things for washing and bathing, as well as some clean undergarments,” said the pink fairy.

  “Please take your time. We’ll be just in here, preparing your dress for the ball,” said the purple fairy. “Call us if you need anything.”

  “Thank you.” Clara tried to curtsy to them, but it was difficult in her robe. Then she straightened and walked into the sweet-scented bathroom.

  Before her was a giant bathtub, easily big enough to fit four people inside, and overflowing with glittery soap bubbles. Clara took off her robe and folded it over a nearby silver rail, then stepped into the warm water. It was the perfect temperature. She sank into the water but found she couldn’t reach the bottom, and instead, her body floated just below the surface.

  Clara sighed happily and closed her eyes. As bizarre as all this was, it was too magical, too amazing, for her not to be completely enthralled by it. All her life, she’d read fairy tales, dreaming about finding a magical land and meeting a handsome prince, and here she was living that dream. She just hoped that Hans was right, and time did work differently in the Land of the Dolls, or her parents would be going out of their minds with worry.

  After soaking in the water for a while, Clara picked up one of the glass bottles the fairies had left around the tub and uncorked it. She poured a little of its contents onto her palm and discovered it was a rose-scented shampoo. She lathered up her hair, and then looked around for a way to rinse off the bubbles. As if answering her request, a silver jug floated toward her and poured warm water over her hair, washing away the shampoo. Clara repeated the process with conditioner from the second bottle, and then used the body wash from the third to clean herself all over. Then she stepped out of the bath and wrapped the robe around herself. It was snuggly and warm from hanging on the silver rail, and she used it to dry off her body and hair.

  Now dry, Clara changed into the undergarments the fairies had left for her and stepped back into the bedroom. The Sugar Plum Fairies had left, but hanging on the wardrobe door was a festive red ballgown that was trimmed in gold.

  Clara took it off the hanger and gasped as she touched the material. It was even softer than her bathrobe, like it was made from rose petals, and the gold trimming was actually gold leaf.

  Once she was dressed—the gown fit her perfectly, as though it had been made to her exact measurements—Clara stepped out into the hallway to find the fairies. They were waiting patiently outside her room for her, and when she emerged, they all squealed.

  “You look simply radiant,” said the pink fairy.

  “A breathtaking vision to behold,” said the purple fairy.

  “A true princess, worthy of ruling the Land of the Dolls beside Prince Hans,” said the turquoise fairy.

  “Wait… what?”

  The turquoise fairy covered her mouth, and the others fussed around her.

  “She didn’t mean anything by it,” said the pink fairy.

  Clara narrowed her eyes. “That was no slip of the tongue. Tell me the truth.”

  The turquoise fairy gazed at her. “Well, if you break the spell, surely Hans will ask you to become his bride.”

  “I can’t. We barely know each other.”

  “But you’ll be the savior of the realm,” said the purple fairy.

  “That still doesn’t change the fact that Hans and I have only just met, or that I’m only sixteen years old.”

  “The prince will understand,” the pink fairy insisted. “He will court you properly, so the two of you can get to know each other, and then when you’re of age, he’ll ask for your hand in marriage.”

  Clara felt her cheeks heat up as warmth spread through her. Hans was handsome, no doubt ab
out it, and becoming a princess would be nothing short of amazing. It was all she’d ever dreamed of. If the pink fairy was right, and Hans was willing to do things properly and wait until she was older, well, marrying him wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Let’s just focus on tonight’s ball, and then breaking the curse,” Clara said.

  “Of course,” the pink fairy said, leading Clara back into the bedroom.

  Together, the three fairies applied Clara’s makeup, styled her hair, and finished off her outfit with dainty golden slippers and a delicate gold chain with a beautiful emerald pendant in the center. When Clara looked in the mirror, the girl looking back at her wasn’t herself, but rather an exquisite princess, with dark hair pinned up in curls, wearing a stunning festive dress.

  “Perfection,” said the fairies in unison before curtsying to Clara.

  “Thank you all so much for this. I look beautiful.”

  “It’s the least we can do for the girl willing to try to break the curse and set us all free.”

  The fairies led the way out of the bedroom, Clara following behind them, and back downstairs to the first floor. They turned left at the bottom of the staircase, walking along the corridor in the opposite direction from the way Clara had explored that morning. They passed the grand ballroom, where many of the palace’s inhabitants were readying it for the ball later.

  The next room they reached opened into an elaborate dining room, but just before Clara stepped through the doorway, she noticed another door at the end of the hallway. It was made of dark wood and was heavily bolted.

  “What’s through there?” Clara asked.

  The fairies exchanged worried glances, but before any of them could speak, Hans appeared and took Clara’s arm. He kissed her lightly on the cheek, whispering in her ear, “You look simply magnificent, Clara.”

  She blushed and turned her head away from his gaze, her question about the locked door forgotten as Hans led her to the table and pulled out an ornate wooden chair for her to sit in.

  He took the place opposite her, and with a clap of his hands, the candles along the table illuminated.

  Clara looked around and saw the dining room slowly filling with guests. The Sugar Plum Fairies joined, along with the dolls that had greeted them earlier, and a platoon of soldiers dressed in their finest attire. She also spotted the flower people she’d seen playing in the forest earlier, as well as other courtiers she hadn’t seen before, but who were exquisitely dressed.

  Once everyone was assembled around the table, with Clara in the position of honor, Hans called for the first course to be brought out. Waiters appeared carrying tiny plates of smoked salmon with horseradish crème fraîche and beetroot salad. The food was divine—so fresh and full of flavor. Next, they were served succulent slices of roast turkey breast with all the trimmings: potatoes roasted in goose fat, carrots caramelized in brown sugar, sprouts with walnuts and little pieces of bacon, cocktail sausages wrapped in strips of bacon, stuffing, rich, thick gravy, cranberry sauce, and huge, fluffy, light Yorkshire puddings.

  Clara ate until she was stuffed, wondering how she’d fit another morsel in her mouth, let alone dance at the ball. But, as the plates were cleared away and Hans helped Clara from her seat, then led her from the dining room, the weirdest sensation passed over her. Instead of feeling full and bloated, she felt content and satisfied. Neither hungry nor gorged. In fact, she felt refreshed and more than ready for an evening of dancing.

  Holding his arm out to Clara, Hans led her into the ballroom, where twelve enormous spruce trees stood at one end of the room, all finely decorated for Christmas with tinsel, baubles, and shimmering golden stars on top. Each tree was lit with tiny candles that magically floated between the branches.

  “Oh my goodness. It’s beautiful,” Clara exclaimed. She let go of Hans’ arm and rushed over to the trees.

  Upon closer inspection, she saw that the tinsel was made of gossamer ribbons twisted through with strands of glitter that flowed and moved of their own accord. Each bauble housed a tiny festive scene, from a field of snow where children built snowmen to a crackling fire in front of which a family opened gifts. Each scene had been expertly painted in miniature, and despite the small size, the details were breathtaking. The children building snowmen had rosy cheeks and noses, and the family opening gifts all had firelight gleaming in their eyes.

  Clara felt a presence behind her and turned to see Hans approach.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Who painted those baubles? They’re stunning.”

  “I did,” Hans said proudly. “There’s not much else here to do when we’re permitted a few days of life over the Christmas period, so I try to make it as festive as possible for everyone in the palace before we’re all turned back into dolls.”

  Clara smiled sadly. “I promise I will try my hardest to break the curse.”

  “Thank you,” said Hans. “But let us not speak of such things now. Tonight is for festivities and dancing.”

  He took her hand and led her away from the trees to the center of the ballroom. Soon, others joined them, until couples were standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder.

  Clara peered over the heads of the other guests as an assortment of musicians entered the ballroom. She spotted people carrying flutes, bass clarinets, French horns, trumpets, and trombones. Some entered with snare drums, cymbals, bass drums, triangles, tambourines, and castanets. One person even wheeled in a celesta keyboard. Finally, people carrying harps, violins, and double basses joined the other assembled musicians.

  Once they were all settled on a stage at the end of the ballroom opposite to the Christmas trees, the orchestra began to play.

  The soft, sweet music filled the room, and Hans placed one delicate hand on Clara’s shoulder as the other lightly held her waist. He led her in a light and graceful waltz around the ballroom as the other couples gathered there followed his lead, stepping lightly with their partners to the rhythm of the music.

  To Clara’s ears, each song was more beautiful than the last. The music seemed to speak directly to her soul, making her full of joy and also wanting to weep all at once.

  They danced for what seemed like hours until her feet ached and she was dizzy and breathless.

  The orchestra quieted down, and somewhere in the distance, a grand clock struck the hour of midnight. When the twelfth chime ended and the room plunged into silence, Prince Hans led Clara to the stage, where the musicians were gathered.

  “Thank you all for joining us tonight,” he said to the hushed room. “I know that many of you do not feel like celebrating when the evil sorcerer’s curse looms over us, and we fear being turned back into dolls. But I have wonderful news. Clara here from a faraway land has agreed to remain at the palace until Christmas Eve to try to help me break the spell.”

  Cheers rang out from the vast array of ball guests. Clara saw the Sugar Plum Fairies grin and wave at her.

  “Three cheers for Clara,” called the fairy dressed in pink.

  “Hooray, hooray, hooray!” shouted the crowd. Clara felt her cheeks heat, but she held on firmly to Hans’ hand and did not look away, instead gazing at all the people gathered in her honor. Breaking the curse was an enormous task—she had no idea where even to begin—but she promised herself she would not let the charming Nutcracker Prince or the good subjects down. She would find a way to break the wicked spell.

  “Thank you all,” Clara called when the crowd had quieted. “I will try my hardest to break the curse, and hopefully soon we will have something else to celebrate.”

  Everyone began clapping and cheering again, then Hans led Clara from the stage. The guests parted to form a pathway for them, and the prince led her out of the ballroom and to the grand staircase.

  “I will walk you to your room,” Hans said with a bow. “And then, after a good night’s rest, we can have breakfast together and discuss how to break the curse.”

  Clara gazed into his blue eyes, her heart melting as she star
ed at him. Not only did she want to break the curse so Hans and his subjects would be free to live as normal people again, but she remembered the Sugar Plum Fairies’ earlier words when they’d helped her dress. Could it be that while she and Hans searched for a way to break the spell, they’d get to know each other, even start to fall in love with each other? Clara wondered whether it were possible that Hans would want to make her his princess.

  They reached Clara’s room, and Hans bowed to her. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, my lady.” He took her hand and kissed it lightly. “Sweet dreams, Clara.”

  “You too, my prince,” she replied, the color rising in her cheeks as her heart somersaulted in her chest.

  Hans bowed again and then departed, leaving Clara to enter her room, hot and flustered. He really was the most handsome and charming person she’d met.

  On her bed, Clara found a white cotton nightgown laid out for her. She changed into it and hung the ballgown back where the fairies had left it for her. Then she pulled back the covers, climbed into bed, and sank down into the soft, feathery pillows. Pulling the thick blankets around herself, Clara soon drifted into a peaceful sleep.

  That night Clara dreamed she was at another ball with Hans, only this time, instead of being dressed in a festive red gown, she was wearing a beautiful white silk wedding dress. Hans looked becoming in a black tuxedo with tails, a bow tie, and a matching top hat.

  For their first dance as husband and wife, Hans held on lightly to Clara’s waist as she looped her arms around his neck. Their bodies were pressed close together as they glided around the ballroom, the prince whispering sweet nothings in the ear of his new princess.

  When the song ended, Hans lowered his mouth to Clara’s lips, pressing them together and kissing her deeply.

  Clara woke with her heart racing and her body flushed with heat.

  A knock at the door caught her attention, and she called, “Come in,” before sitting up in bed.

  The Sugar Plum Fairies bustled into the room, carrying clothes, toiletries, and trunks filled with other such things.

  “Good morning, Lady Clara,” the pink fairy said, curtsying, and then hanging an array of garments in the wardrobe.