Stepping up onto the tip of her ballet slippers en pointe, Marietta took a few quick little bourrée steps backwards.
‘Why how marvellous. How marvellous indeed.’
The captain cleared his throat. ‘Your Majesty, she is but a local woman. I possess not a dusting of doubt that this is but some delightful novelty purchased from the Veil of Enchantments.’
King Gelum held up one long finger. His amusement was sharp-edged. ‘Now, captain, we mustn’t be greedy with the girl. You are as aware as I am that no one in Everwood, in this world, can dance in this manner, no matter the enchantments purchased. It is a wondrous sight indeed.’ He tilted his head to one side, evaluating Marietta. ‘How would you like to stay as an honoured guest in my palace?’
‘I am most flattered by your invitation, however I am afraid I must decline. I have a prior obligation I must see to,’ Marietta said. The upcoming performance of The Sleeping Beauty would see her light up the stage in the position of a prima ballerina and she could not pass on such a gift.
The king looked amused. ‘I am not accustomed to refusals.’
‘It was not my intention to offend—’
‘You are strong-willed, I admire that.’ The king’s attention lingered on her. ‘Imagine the sparkling balls and feasts where you would dance every night. Garbed by your own dressmaker, you would have a new gown for each performance you enchant us with.’ He snapped his fingers and a man, dressed in candy-cane stripes and bearing a silver tray, appeared at his side. The king waved a hand at the tray. ‘Would you care for one?’
Marietta selected a chocolate mouse with a cherry for a nose and sugar-whiskers. Temptation was a devious creature. It whispered in her ear, played to her vanities and slunk deep and deeper yet until it set her heart aflame with longing. For why did she care to return to her own world for a single performance when here she might dance as if she was one of the princesses in that old story, left with ragged shoes each morn and sleeping with a secret smile on her lips? The king admired her will. Perhaps she could be freer here, then. Frederick she would miss but she supposed she might visit him. Perhaps bring him back with her so he might learn of the delights of Everwood beside her. Or, if she truly did not care for life in the palace, she would just leave herself when the time came.
She felt rather than saw Captain Legat stiffen beside her.
Caught in a heady rush that showered her with glittering thoughts, Marietta smiled. ‘I shall accept your most generous offer, King Gelum.’
‘Oh wonderful, wonderful!’ The king clapped his hands together with childish glee and Marietta’s smile curved wider. ‘I shall have you escorted to your suite.’ He clicked his fingers and Legat stood to attention.
‘Right away, Your Majesty.’ He beckoned to Claren, who stepped forward at once.
‘Thank you kindly,’ Marietta said, allowing Claren to guide her away. When she glanced back, she noticed two guards, each suited in a livery of indigo and charcoal, stood in the shadows. Their features were shrouded with blank white masks, rendering them faceless and mute. ‘Who are those?’ she asked in an undertone.
‘They’re the Faceless Guards. Unlike the traditional soldiers that make up the official King’s Army, protectors of Everwood, the Faceless Guards work only for the king. They’re not trained as soldiers; they function purely as King Gelum’s personal bodyguards. In fact, no one’s ever seen their true faces,’ Claren said, and she cast another wondering look back. She noticed Legat shifting his gaze from her, wearing a mask of his own, his golden hair tousled as if he’d run a hand through it. The spectacle struck up again, the servers skating out to offer petits fours and goblets as the musicians launched into a fast waltz.
Marietta and Claren set foot on the winding staircase. The stairs were lacquered in rich garnet and thick cream, alternating colours in candy cane stripes. Every few steps, they passed a door. Mulberry with pointed arches, set into the curving midnight wall. She wondered where they all led. A golden cage with three women clothed in matching sapphire suits winched past them, riding down to the throne room. They all turned to fix their opera glasses on Claren and Marietta with a flash of silver-painted lips and hair, a trio of fallen stars.
‘It seems I shall be spending a little longer in your world after all,’ Marietta said.
‘So it does,’ Claren said. Although his tone was polite, he was less chipper than he had been and Marietta considered that perhaps he was envious. After all, she was to be a guest of his king.
He didn’t speak again and it wasn’t long until they halted before a door. Two faceless guards stood to either side of it. ‘Is this security really necessary?’ she asked Claren.
He tugged his jacket collar. ‘The king insists on it,’ he said at last, holding the door open for her.
She took her leave of him and entered the suite, shutting the door.
A sigh caressed the air behind her.
Marietta spun to face the two women watching her – one of which was the woman she’d seen earlier, a confection in plum and midnight shades. ‘I told you to leave,’ she said, her voice smooth and rich as buttercream. A venom-laced edge lurked beneath it that better suited the contempt twisting her glossy black lips.
‘Why did you?’ Marietta asked, her irritation blossoming. ‘I was not given to believe that I was not the sole occupant of this suite.’
‘Well, it hardly matters now but this is no place for a wanderer,’ the woman in plum said.
‘What were you given to believe?’ the other woman asked, distracting Marietta from that peculiar statement. She was tall and slim with dark-brown skin and hair, and eyes just as dark with emerald flecks. Gold dust was sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, complementing the filigreed golden band across her forehead and the golden embroidery laced atop her fitted peach dress. A little chiffon cape shimmered over her ensemble. She walked over to Marietta, her golden painted lips curving into a tentative smile. ‘Do come and seat yourself; let us get better acquainted.’
Marietta disregarded the other woman’s scoff at this and allowed herself to be guided into the room.
On the far side, the frozen sugar of the palace exterior curved round the space, filling it with a gentle, opalescent light. To her right was an open archway, through which was a line of grand armoires and wide swathes of mirrors. Before her, the woman in plum was lounging on a thick carpet that spread out across the central circle of the room and on which were scattered plush cushions in jewel tones, each one larger than an armchair. Chaises longues in rich crimson and sultry indigos were perched here and there. At her left, gauzy ivory drapes hung from tall ceilings, the odd flutter revealing water and steam beyond them. It was all soft and peppermint-scented.
‘I had been led to understand that if I were to dance for the king, I should possess my own suite.’
‘Were you? Or did your own mind conjure that fact? King Gelum delights in turning our expectations against us,’ the woman in plum told her, inspecting her nails.
Marietta sank down onto a periwinkle cushion. Disappointment fatigued her.
The other woman sat beside her. ‘Do not trouble yourself, you will find us amenable to share quarters with. Even Dellara.’ She sent the woman in plum a cautionary look.
Dellara leant forwards with a wicked smile. ‘Speak for yourself. Tell us, what brought you here?’
‘I came from another world,’ Marietta said.
‘That is painfully obvious.’ Dellara scanned Marietta’s hair and torn dress that still carried a spattering of blood. Her lip curled. ‘Do tell us the details. As you can see, we are quite parched for entertainment in this suite.’
‘I suffered an unfortunate interruption while dancing and fled inside a grandfather clock – a large timepiece,’ Marietta added upon seeing the word lack register for them. ‘I walked through the back of it and into this.’ She gestured at the surrounding opulence. ‘I have never known of the existence of other worlds. I never believed in magic, though I once
longed for it. When I was forging my exit from your world, I found myself lost in the Endless Forest and was besieged by the shadows that lurk there. By happenstance, Captain Legat and his soldiers liberated me from their attack and brought me here.’
‘She’s one of them,’ Dellara said in an aside to the golden woman.
Marietta frowned. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You’ve entered Everwood from one of the worlds where enchantments are confined to the rank of bedtime tales for milk-fed infants, where magic is but a story and everything is dull and straitlaced as a result,’ Dellara said. ‘Congratulations, wanderer, you’ve committed an extraordinary feat. Those worlds are rare, rarer still to find the doors within them.’
‘You may call me Marietta,’ she managed, processing those ramifications. Had Drosselmeier truly intended to dispatch her to this world? It seemed a strange kind of punishment, unless he had meant for her to perish in the Endless Forest. And if he had, how had he come to possess such a power?
‘I am Pirlipata,’ the woman dressed in gold said. ‘And this is Dellara.’ She rested a hand on the shoulder of the venomous woman in plum and black.
‘You shall address her as Princess Pirlipata,’ Dellara said.
Pirlipata gave Dellara a long look. ‘No titles are necessary. Here we are now, one and the same.’
Marietta looked at the women in bemusement, wondering at their stories though her pride was wounded that she was not the king’s sole guest. Still, dancing the nights away, one glittering ball at a time, was a dream she could not refuse. She was determined to impress the king so she might forge her own place here.
This close to Dellara, she noted her grey eyes. Deep and extraordinary. Shadows crept in the edges of her irises like smoke. Whatever Dellara was, she wasn’t entirely human. Latching onto Marietta’s sudden attention, Dellara grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharp, pointed teeth.
Pirlipata’s forehead bore a delicate crease. ‘Honestly, Dellara, the woman’s just arrived.’
Marietta chose to ease her pointe shoes off at that moment.
Pirlipata picked one up to examine it. ‘What curious shoes you have. Do you truly dance on your toes?’
‘Yes, I’ve been ballet dancing since I was a child.’ Marietta nestled her toes in the thick pile of the carpet. It submerged her feet up to her ankles.
‘How remarkable. You are talented indeed, although I must say it sounds rather painful.’
‘Sometimes it is, though I am comforted by the thought that I am creating something beautiful and perhaps a little pain is worth the joy it gives me.’
Like a predator, the notion of pain attracted Dellara’s attention. ‘Being a woman is a bloody business. Rest while you can. You shall be dancing every night now.’
‘As I intend to. Dancing is all I long to do.’
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning, Marietta stood before the frozen sugar wall, mulling over the events of the past day. Its glow never hinted at an alteration in light and she found it hard to discern the hour. The portion that wrapped around their suite was a whorl of opalescent lavender, deepening into a coruscating mauve that swept down onto another floor. It was translucent, and as Marietta peered out of a paler, cherry-blossom-pink swirl, she stole a look at the frost-encrusted landscape outside. A swollen pearl of a moon stared back at her.
‘I wouldn’t if I were you.’ Dellara’s voice crept behind Marietta, from where she was ensconced in a heap of clothing; whisper-thin petticoats and velvet skirts, satin ballgowns and high-waisted striped trousers, silk slips and gauzy capes. Jeanne Paquin and Jean-Philippe Worth would have murdered for a glimpse at the sartorial treasure chest Dellara was poring over.
‘I’m sorry?’ Marietta touched the wall, curious if it ever melted. It was freezing to the touch and she withdrew her hand at once.
‘It’s an inadvertent rite of passage to lick the walls. Each year, some young one believes they’ll be the exception and get a mouthful of sugar for their efforts. They never do. And I have no desire to drip-feed you water as you stand there with your tongue affixed to the wall.’
Marietta paid no heed to the condescension dripping from her tone. ‘How does it remain frozen? Surely you have periods of sunlight in this land?’
‘Winter is our true reigning king. It’s long, dark and seemingly eternal. We won’t see a glimpse of sun for several moontides now. Besides which, the walls are enchanted; they cannot melt.’
Marietta was bewitched; magic was ingrained into the very fabric of this world.
‘The palace, the gingerbread chalets and huts in the town, the marzipan whirls of apartment suites and cobblestones, all of it is locked in an immutable state. Spellbound to remain frozen. If you attempted to eat any of it, you’d break your teeth. Even the moose are wise enough not to take a nibble.’
Marietta was vaguely insulted. ‘I am certain I possess more intelligence than a moose,’ she told Dellara, who shrugged and resumed examining her wardrobe.
Yet Marietta’s curiosity danced on. ‘How did they become enchanted? Who in your world holds such powers?’ How did Drosselmeier connect to this strange and wild puzzle she’d been confronted with? How had he discovered the doors between worlds?
A faint sigh escaped from an ivory satin cape, edged in glistening peach feathers that fluttered as if teased by an errant breeze. ‘The Grand Confectioner is the enchanter. We hold only small magics, often pretty and sometimes useful but insubstantial as a snowflake in comparison to true power.’ Dellara’s eyes shadowed. ‘Once every few lifetimes, someone with such power walks these lands. The Grand Confectioner’s identity and motivations are shadowed in secrecy. Legend has it he’s an ancient sorcerer from another world that preferred ours. Celesta is a world of doors and magic, and he holds them all.’
‘One of the soldiers happened to mention yesterday that the Grand Confectioner allowed the wards protecting Everwood to lapse after indulging in one too many libations.’
Dellara turned back to her cape. ‘That’s nothing but old palace hearsay. Nobody witnessed him intoxicated; only the empty glasses were glimpsed. And an intruder managed to enter and almost murder the king.’ She gave the cape a nostalgic smile.
‘All these worlds,’ Marietta murmured to herself. ‘Wondrous and terrifying to consider. “What immortal hand or eye …”’ She directed her gaze onto the other woman. ‘Have you ever travelled to another?’
Dellara’s patchwork of venomous words and smiles fell away as she met Marietta’s eyes. Within them, she glimpsed something as ancient as starlight. ‘Yes,’ she said.
Marietta disliked to pry, despite the avalanche of fresh questions she now had. She had spent the equivalent of one night in this sugared world. They had slept on the oversized cushions and thick carpet the night before, the situation proving more intimate than Marietta was comfortable with. She had inquired as to the location of the beds, only to be met with Pirlipata’s quizzical expression and the fast knowledge that this world didn’t possess such a thing as beds. She had lain there, fatigued with the aftereffects of the day, deliberating on whether she had made the right choice. Until Pirlipata’s gentle breaths and Dellara’s soft snores had lulled her to sleep, giving in to the sweet release of unconsciousness.
Marietta directed her gaze back onto the world outside. Her absence must have been noted by now. Her gut twisted at the thought of Drosselmeier and what comment he would make to the constabulary. How cruel it was that her home would now forevermore be tainted with him. Once she had better navigated this world, she would find a way to send word to Frederick. Everwood was delicious, tempting as a box of the finest chocolates and more magical than a book of Grimms’ tales and she longed to share it with him. ‘I was wondering if perhaps I might explore the town this morning,’ she said aloud to Dellara. ‘I have a craving for more of those divine chocolates.’
Dellara laughed.
Marietta puzzled at this but her ruminations were forgotten with the arrival of a line
of servers in festive uniforms, carrying a breakfast feast on silver trays. Marietta joined Pirlipata and Dellara, lounging on the cushions, and dined on snowman-shaped loaves, herbed butter, whorls of creamed cheese and sugared pastries, and bowls of glazed frostberries. She exchanged pleasantries with Pirlipata, who was a kinder soul, until her presence was requested by the king, leaving Marietta in the company of Dellara, who was equally unimpressed with the arrangement.
They drank cups of a pot of molten drinking chocolate, thick and creamy and layered with delicate spices, the chocolate rich as bottled poetry. Just as Marietta was debating a second cup, another server scurried in and placed a small box at her feet. It was filled with chocolates. Shaped like mice, each one held a different filling. Some were expected; berries and cream flavoured or caramel. Others were a fantasy she held no words for. ‘How generous of the king,’ Marietta said, offering them to Dellara.
She said nothing and Marietta excused herself to bathe.
The bathing pool was cut into the smooth stone floor on the other side of the gauzy drapes. Marietta shed her silk robe and descended the steps leading into its balmy water. Big enough to swim lengths in, one entire side bubbled like Hecate’s cauldron, releasing large, toffee-scented bubbles. Another side featured a waterfall, spooling out from the rocky wall in a rush of warm water and peppermint-green mist. Marietta swam a languid length in the pool before lying back and watching the obsidian ceiling that shimmered in unfamiliar constellations until she felt as if she were swimming in starlight.
After, she donned her robe and sauntered over to the armoires to dress for the day, luxuriating in the languorous pace her new life afforded. She supposed she would meet with the dressmaker soon and intended to borrow something beforehand. Yet digging through the armoires, she struggled to source anything similar to the dresses and gowns she was accustomed to wearing. There was an overwhelming array of colours, textures and designs that would put a couturier’s studio to shame, and the only corsets she uncovered seemed to be constructed as outerwear, which was most puzzling.
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