Midnight in Everwood

by M. A. Kuzniar

  Laced with magic, it dripped with wonder and intrigue. Gauze curtains fluttered down, dividing the throne room into smaller, more intimate gossamer-caves. Ones that a server or dancer might waltz through at any moment, rendering each snatched moment between lovers fraught with the delicious anticipation of being caught. Tiny lights studded the floor, as if one was dancing on starlight, and the stream ran in a melted chocolate current. Guests were served empty glasses and cups of crunchy shards of praline, biscotti and plump frostberries to drizzle with the molten core of the palace. Small working gingerbread trains ran alongside it on peppermint tracks, darting faster when someone chased one, craving a nibble, and little islands of marzipan fir trees floated down its current.

  Pirlipata, clad in a golden dress embroidered with waltzing gingerbread women, filled a glass with melted chocolate for the king, her conversation with him laced with strategy; attempting to procure a hint on what shape his mysterious mechanism might hold. It led nowhere. Eventually she retired her efforts and danced with Dellara instead.

  Marietta approached the captain, her thoughts a-whirling, her gown attracting a nearby whorl of buttercream butterflies with its twinkling lights. She wished to ask where he had been, why he had failed to attend the previous balls. If he was still prepared to supply their disguises. To confide in him how thoughts of his rebellion and possible capture taunted her at night. Sent her nails carving half-moons into her palms with worry. Yet it was none of those notions that tumbled from her lips. It wasn’t even a question. ‘I have noticed you cannot keep your eyes from me, captain.’

  Captain Legat took a pull of his drink, dark and chocolate in a sheer glass. His eyes were buttery bright over the rim, dwelling on Marietta’s luminescence and the creamy cascade of butterflies. ‘I do believe you are imagining things.’ She heard the smile behind his words.

  She stepped closer to him. ‘Actually, I am certain that you are the one imagining things. After all, I have read your thoughts. I know your mind now.’

  The captain’s gaze drank her in. ‘Is that right?’ he murmured.

  She wondered if she might rest her hand on his arm, a casual touch, inquire whether he cared to dance. But they had been too conspicuous on the last occasion they had succumbed to dancing and though she craved the touch of his hand on her back, his arm wrapped about her waist, she resisted. ‘Where have you been? You promised me certain assistance and that was several weeks ago now.’

  He reached for her and twirled them both back, through a ripple of fabric. A fine layer of gauze the sole barrier preventing the rest of the throne room from setting eyes and ears upon their conversation.

  Further back, other gossamer hideaways issued sighs and giggles and Marietta grew aware of the small space in which they both stood, her gown a voluminous cloud, pressing against the captain’s legs.

  ‘You are all too aware that I never promised such a thing. I said I would look into the matter, and I shall, but events have transpired in the palace, leading me to have set aside the concern.’ His words were fast and hushed, his attention locked onto her with urgency.

  Marietta regarded him. ‘Do explain what you mean by that.’ She hoped the cryptic events he referenced weren’t regarding developments in Crackatuck. A burst of raucous laughter nearby and revellers flitting through the gauze came as a warning; their privacy was imagined.

  ‘It is not safe to discuss it here,’ Captain Legat said, watching the rippling fabric. It shimmered under the light of Marietta’s gown, little starbursts that danced over the captain’s face and white livery. ‘Will you allow me to send for you tomorrow night? Rumours of rebellion have been scattered through the town and the guards will be distracted.’

  Marietta ignored the slight dance her stomach performed at his words. It was as if they were waltzing once more and she was close enough to see the faintest scar brushed across his left temple. The reddish tint his hair carried under a certain light. ‘You have never sought my permission before.’

  ‘I fear all those occasions I summoned you, had you brought to me, I gave you no say in the matter. I had little choice yet still they haunt me.’ His eyes locked with hers. ‘I should like to amend this. Though the enchantments do not allow you to leave these frozen walls since the king claimed you, there is a place I would wish to share with you. Things I must tell you. Please, Marietta, meet me.’

  Her name poured off his tongue like velvet. Deeply tempting. And perhaps worth the risk of such a rendezvous in order to discover the cryptic events which he had referred to. Or so she told herself. Before she exited their gauzy enclosure, she threw a final look back at him. ‘Until tomorrow night.’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  As it often transpires when one is anticipating an event, the following day seemed to take an age in dawning. When at last the evening arrived, Marietta had expected the captain to have had her brought to his study. Yet the doors had opened to reveal Fin, who had escorted her a few swirls down, to a winter garden.

  A lantern of moonlight silvered a carpet of pristine snow. Snowflake-shaped petals studded bushes in dusky blue and pearl. Fir trees encircled the space, strung with tiny lights bespelled to peal like bells. The ceiling glittered high above in a bewitchery of stars and a large fountain tinkled in the centre. Stone mice danced and hopped over delicate vines entwined around the fountain, reminiscent of the thorny overgrowth Prince Désiré was destined to hack his way through to reach the Princess Aurora. Captain Legat was perched on the edge of the stonework, petals fluttering down onto his shirt and hair like snow. He rose upon sighting her and handed her a long-stemmed flower.

  Marietta accepted it. ‘How perfectly lovely.’ Its blush-pink petals shivered as she ran a fingertip down them. She seated herself on the side of the fountain and, after a brief hesitation, the captain sat beside her. ‘The change in location is a welcome surprise,’ she said. ‘I was beginning to wonder whether I would ever be offered a glimpse into the jewels waiting behind the palace’s myriad doors.’

  ‘I’m glad it meets your approval. I often find myself stealing away here, to the winter garden, in search of a peaceful place to sit awhile.’

  Marietta closed her eyes, the bell-lights and the melodious fountain sweet and soothing, bathing her senses. ‘It is beautiful here. I can feel my pulse slowing, my worries waning.’ She caught an echo of the captain’s smile upon re-opening her eyes. Precious and fleeting.

  ‘Besides which, an added precaution was in order. The king’s suspicions are deepening, paranoia is cutting into his thoughts. I am concerned by reports that he is mounting an investigation into the ranks, ordering his faceless guards to spy on my soldiers. It shall amount to nothing, I am certain of the loyalty in my men, but it is a worrying sign. We cannot afford to incite his attention now, not when I am at a pivotal point in—’ He abruptly ceased.

  Marietta twirled the flower. ‘I would rather you not put your other activities at risk for the sake of aiding me.’

  ‘Now there is a sentence I never thought to hear you say.’

  ‘It would cost us precious time but what is time compared to the lives depending on you? I cannot bring myself to interfere with that, not now, not after what I have witnessed.’ She frowned, thinking of the rumours he had alluded to the previous night. ‘Should you be here at all if other matters are unfolding tonight?’

  Captain Legat rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Ah, those matters are but a mere fabrication. I had to ensure the faceless guards were otherwise occupied tonight so I might meet you.’

  Marietta looked at him, words failing her.

  ‘And I was wrong in suggesting that you ought not to draw me away. You and the other women are not safe here as I once considered you might be in the short term.’ Captain Legat reached down and extracted a bundle from beside his feet. ‘Three uniforms. As promised.’ He handed it to her.

  ‘Thank you.’ She set it down on the fountain. ‘I could not help but notice your lack of attendance at the king’s balls lately.’


  ‘King Gelum dispatched me from the palace. I was engaged in travelling down the Thieves Road to Mistpoint on some erroneous mission. I suspect it was our dance that prompted it.’ His voice lingered on dance. Marietta felt a flash of heat. His hand rested beside hers on the edge of the fountain. She nudged her little finger closer until it met warmth.

  ‘He has not interfered in your other plans?’ she asked cautiously, noticing the shadows lurking beneath his eyes, the worries that mottled them.

  ‘Not as far as I am aware. Though other difficulties have presented themselves. The king is intending to invade Crackatuck within the next moontide. A show of strength.’ He gave a weary rub of his temples. Glanced up at her lack of reaction. ‘And it seems as if you already knew that. How?’ Marietta did not answer. But Legat wasn’t the captain for nothing. ‘Dellara,’ he said. ‘She must have seen the plans in his council room.’

  ‘Why are you informing me of this?’ Marietta asked.

  ‘Saving a life, protecting a king is what awarded me the rank of captain. Invading another kingdom, ruling with an iced fist goes against everything I believe in and you know well I wish to hold no part in it.’ He rubbed his temple again. She did know. She had read his soul-pain, poured onto paper. And when she danced, he saw her. ‘I believed the Crackatian princess ought to be aware of this before you departed.’

  ‘I suppose there is no point in me attempting to persuade you to join us.’

  A wry smile, a smile of sadness and what might have been. ‘I cannot. I am not alone in leading the rebellion but I could not desert my post. I have to see it to the end, whatever that might be.’ He glanced down at the point where their hands met. ‘No matter how I may be tempted to leave.’

  ‘I understand.’ She knew enough of being confined to see it in another.

  He met her eyes for a beat. ‘King Gelum possesses more intelligence than you realise, Marietta. I smoothed over some trade agreement for him. Satisfied his ego. But as I mentioned, he is suspicious, with the propensity to make an example of those who would betray him. He is a man with a deep enjoyment of inflicting pain. Your escape would be a cutting betrayal and he would stop at nothing in his attempts to retrieve you. If he were to succeed—’ He swallowed.

  The scars remaining on Marietta’s feet twinged. ‘We are well aware of the risks.’

  ‘Are you?’ The captain’s gaze dropped to her feet for a painful pause. ‘What if you were not the one in his grasp but the fairy? Or the princess? Could you watch them suffer? Bear their inevitable drawn-out execution?’

  Marietta’s imagination conjured Amadea’s face, her unknown features foggy and shifting. King Gelum had killed her and a part of Dellara had died with her. Her composure hardened, a brittle veneer over her heart. ‘I am not afraid to do whatever it takes. I have never wished for an easy life and when I return I am determined not to languish in another gilded prison.’

  He turned to face her. ‘You make me wonder about this world you left behind. About who you left behind.’

  ‘In a way, it greatly resembled this one.’ Marietta smoothed her dress over her knees. Dellara’s reaction to her selecting the scarlet velvet had been satisfying. Her lips were painted in the same shade, her hair curled. Red for the heart-blood of the rebellion. ‘My life’s path was ordained for me and I was expected to march along to someone else’s plan. My future was not at my behest and my own dreams and fears were dismissed.’ She thought of the Cartier brooch beneath her pillow, the dreams where a man with a chipped-ice stare followed her, her breath catching as she scanned the dark firs that walled them in, apprehensive of the shadows bunching together, envisioning the hunter forging them as his home.

  ‘There is a celebrated storyteller in Everwood,’ the captain said, his response unexpected, ensnaring Marietta’s focus. ‘His tales always incorporate a variation of the moral that if you do not cherish your dreams, you have forgotten how to live. Dreaming is an intrinsic part of human nature, on par with love and hate and hope.’

  ‘Storytellers are often wise beyond their years. Perhaps all their delving into words and thoughts has gifted them additional lives.’

  The captain’s hand suddenly covered hers. Marietta turned her palm upwards, a flower seeking the sun. Their fingers interlaced. ‘Are you certain you wish to return to this world of yours?’ the captain murmured. ‘A world where you must fight to be yourself does not seem a suitable place for you. After the rebellion I shall be free. What if I took you somewhere else instead? Somewhere where you might be safe.’

  His hands was strong and calloused. Little bites of steel had nicked the flesh here and there, telling a story of the soldier who wielded a sword for the king. Yet that was not the whole tale. She tightened her fingers around his. ‘The storyteller you mentioned held the truth. My time here has been transformative, but I cannot dismiss that which I have spent a lifetime wishing for. I know I am strong enough to fight for my dreams now. I am ready to carve a path into a future of my own creation.’

  ‘I admire you for your strength,’ the captain said, caressing her hand, tracing the lines bisecting her palm with his thumb. ‘I feared this place might break you.’

  She shivered at his touch. ‘I am not strong, I am a selfish creature that has been spoiled with a life of privilege and every physical comfort I desired. But perhaps I can be brave. And when I do return, for I will return, I shall make a change.’

  ‘And you dare say you are not strong? Change requires a deeper strength than most people shall ever know.’

  It began to snow.

  ‘Oh—’ Marietta looked up in wonder ‘—this place is a devilish oxymoron.’

  The captain’s brow furrowed. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘Each time I consider how much I regret the choices I made that led me here, how I despise being imprisoned, I find something that steals my breath away.’ She laughed and lifted her face to the snow, holding her tongue out to catch the tiny snowflakes. They melted in sweet bursts of sugared vanilla.

  ‘I can understand that,’ the captain said after a pause.

  Marietta smiled at him, feeling snowflakes whispering onto her hair, nestling on her bared shoulders. ‘The last time we convened in your study, you were on the brink of telling me something,’ she said, a spark of courage liberating her tongue. ‘I have often since wondered what it might have been.’

  He studied her for a moment. Reached out to brush a snowflake from her cheek. ‘It was nothing. Some triviality I can no longer recall.’ He offered the snowflake to her, its edges clear-cut as crystal. ‘Make a wish. In Everwood, we say that when it melts, your wish shall be granted.’

  Marietta accepted it, her fingers grazing his. Their other hands were still linked, his fingers strong around her hand, anchoring her to his golden warmth. She closed her eyes. ‘I wish—’

  ‘If you say it aloud, it shall not come true,’ the captain whispered. She could hear his smile.

  Sometimes it felt as if wishes and dreams coursed through her veins rather than blood. But there remained things that took a greater precedent over her dreams and so she wished for the safety and good health of Pirlipata and Dellara, come what may. On opening her eyes, she tucked the snowflake away in a velvet pocket.

  ‘Fin shall return you to your suite. Those are supposed to be new dancing shoes.’ Captain Legat nodded at the bundle beside Marietta. ‘Do not let anyone see what it contains and the minute you are alone, hide them. There are spies everywhere.’ He extended a hand and pulled Marietta to her feet. She broke their enlaced hands to pick up the bundle. It was chilled and she yearned afresh for his touch. He walked over to the door, incongruous in the lush garden, beneath the flurries of snow. When his fingers touched the handle, he hesitated. ‘I do not know when or how you are intending to leave, and it would be better if I were not to learn, but promise me you will be careful?’

  ‘Always.’ Marietta moved towards the door, to him. ‘And I cannot thank you enough.’

 
‘It was the very least I could do.’ Still he lingered, each second the door remained closed another moment that belonged to them. Another moment in which they might pretend that they were but brief acquaintances, stars that brushed against each other in the night.

  Marietta held the package tighter. ‘I shall be attending the Grand Confectioner’s Ball.’

  The captain’s expression relaxed. ‘Then we have a handful of days yet. Though I should inform you; if you were to pick a day to leave the palace, it is in the stars that something shall happen the night of the Grand Confectioner’s Ball. It would prove ample … distraction.’

  ‘I shall take note of that,’ Marietta said softly. ‘Thank you, captain.’

  Legat stepped closer and she felt as if the collision of their stars would set flame to the world. It crackled between them and she wondered why she had denied it for so long. His eyes rested on her scarlet lips in fascination, her eyes falling to his, his white shirt pressed against her red velvet, her face tilted towards his. The winter garden melted away, leaving the two of them in their own world as Marietta felt herself drawn towards the captain, craving the delicious moment where any second his lips would meet hers.

  Voices permeated the door.

  Legat moved away and yanked it open.

  Marietta sighed at the moment that had nearly been.

  Fin materialised in the doorway. ‘Ah, there you are, captain. The king requests an audience at once to discuss an urgent matter.’

  ‘Of course, I shall attend him now. Fin, do escort the dancer back to her suite,’ Legat instructed as they both made their way to the stairs.

  Where three faceless guards were awaiting them.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The faceless guards turned as one to consider them, all blank masks and rigid statures. They never failed to coax trepidation from Marietta.

  ‘What is that?’ One of the crafters was looking at the package. The faceless guards turned their heads to look, their movements stiff and unyielding.