Midnight in Everwood

by M. A. Kuzniar

  ‘Nothing. I’m merely anxious for tonight’s events to proceed smoothly.’ She glanced over her shoulder, the uneaten globe melting in her hand. King Gelum had retired to his throne once more. Pirlipata was nowhere in sight. Claren was surrounded by a gaggle of revellers from Mistpoint in their traditional cerulean trousers and flowing tops, veils folded back over their hair. Captain Legat was still conversing with Danyon, though every now and then, he scanned the throne room. Marietta was certain he was monitoring the premises though she couldn’t help a flutter of hope that he was searching for her.

  Dellara swallowed the last of her chocolate. ‘Ah, I see,’ she murmured, her gaze knowing when Marietta turned back to her.

  ‘What do you see now?’ Marietta returned her globe to the snowman’s tray.

  Dellara helped herself to a second. ‘You have it bad for our good captain. It’s plain you’re attracted to him but I hadn’t realised how deeply you care for him, too. It’s more serious than I had realised.’

  Marietta perched on an oversized snowball. ‘Nothing could ever come of it. We are almost set to depart this world and he must remain here.’ She looked away, patted her hair. Silver twists coiled it into a marzipan-scented swirl. She fought against sinking into the verses she’d memorised of Legat’s. Words that transported her deeper into understanding, gave her sustenance, tugged at her emotions. Look to the stars … She knew that the canvas of the night sky would forever remind her of him.

  Dellara set her chocolate globe down and studied Marietta. ‘Then you have invited him to accompany us?’

  Marietta stood. ‘I had not intended to. Though where is the sense in hiding my feelings for him on the cusp of leaving?’

  ‘There is never any sense in hiding feelings; they will only embed themselves further in your heart until they’re impossible to dig out.’ Dellara adjusted the bodice of her dress. ‘Speaking of leaving, Pirlipata is late.’

  A surge of concern swept like a blizzard through the snow globe.

  ‘Ought we to—’

  A great noise broke out. Reverberations shook the glass-bottomed globes, sending flurries of snow dancing. Guards and soldiers surged forwards, hands resting on sword hilts, faceless masks tilted towards the encroaching sound. King Gelum leapt from his throne, shrouded behind a contingent of his guards.

  Marietta and Dellara fled through a connecting tunnel and into another snow globe, weaving through the current of guests rushing past. A hand nudged Marietta’s. Captain Legat, his hand clenched on his hilt, breathless from his dash across the throne room, abandoning his royal duty for her. ‘Do you require my services?’ he asked, drawing his Starhunter sword with a glance at the main doors and the faceless guards securing them, ignoring the odd curious look aimed in their direction. His thumb grazed her fingers, a secret touch, a delicious thrill.

  ‘I—’ she managed to say before Dellara seized her other hand.

  But Captain Legat held tighter to her, sudden comprehension dawning in his eyes. ‘If there was a key to another world to be found anywhere in the palace, I’d wager it was hidden among the king’s treasures,’ he whispered in her ear. She looked at him and he released her hand. Dellara swept her away into the chaos.

  The main doors strained behind their barricades and splintered like hoarfrost. When the source of the rumbling became apparent, the guests hesitated, laughter bubbling out of the snow globes. Hundreds of miniature reindeer were pouring into the throne room. Marietta and Dellara broke into a run. The nearest soldiers attempted to corral the reindeer back through the doors as others ventured further into the throne room, finding their way into the snow globe complex, nibbling on cake and skirts without discrimination. Dellara fumbled to hand Marietta a small object as Marietta surged ahead on longer legs and slid beneath the throne. Smoothing her hand down the flat outline of the trap door she had discovered some balls ago, she opened her fingers to reveal a small mechanised mouse sitting in her hand.

  Dellara threw herself down under the throne a beat later. ‘Why haven’t you opened it yet?’ She wrenched the mouse from Marietta.

  ‘I am merely waiting for us to be discovered instead,’ Marietta snapped back at her, aware that the minute they’d stolen beneath the throne, time had become their enemy. Dellara set the mouse on the trap door, her sugared arms glittering. With a whir and a twitch of its whiskers, the enchanted mechanism within the mouse sparked to life. It ran over the trap door, locating some invisible lock, slotted its tail in and twisted. A collection of low thuds released a section of the floor, springing down to reveal steps descending below the palace.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  They lowered themselves in. Marietta closed the trapdoor behind them, Dellara pocketing the mouse as they turned to assess their surroundings, their breaths crystallising.

  The chamber was carved from ice. Silent and thick with secrets. A single staircase had been cut from it, a tight coil that plummeted into the depths of the cliff the palace had been constructed on, encircled by thick frozen walls. Alcoves had been chipped from the ice at regular intervals, displaying a variety of the king’s stolen treasures, and the entire chamber was lit with a low blue lighting that felt as if they were trespassing in a jar of boiled sweets.

  ‘We must locate it as a matter of urgency.’ Marietta’s whisper swirled around the chamber and returned to them. She stepped onto the first ice step. ‘It had better not be hidden too deeply; our time frame is too limited for that length of a search. Are you able to sense it in any manner?’

  ‘I feel it calling but we have been separated too long and my power is weaker; akin to searching for a single snowflake in a bank of snow.’

  Marietta took another step down. Her weight rushed out from beneath her, the ice staircase a sudden terror. She cried out, reaching for purchase, but her hands slid against ice. Dellara lurched forwards and grasped the material of Marietta’s bodice, dragging her back onto her feet and steadying her as she composed herself. ‘Thank you,’ she said, sitting down to avoid slipping again. The echo of her panic was still being tossed around by the chamber. The eeriness swelled.

  A sharp splintering sent her attention skittering back onto Dellara, who had ground the heel of her stiletto into the ice, anchoring herself. ‘King Gelum must possess a pair of ice boots in order to walk down here,’ she said, passing Marietta. ‘Look at the imprints in the ice.’ Each step was dotted with perforations.

  Searching the alcoves, Dellara voiced aloud a running inventory. Marietta followed her in a seated position that felt rather undignified. ‘A tiara, an ancient jewelled set of tails; that’s a popular game here in Everwood,’ she told Marietta. ‘An old book in a language I can’t decipher; I’m surprised our king hasn’t burnt it. Another tiara, a nutcracker from Crackatuck crafted from a single ruby – they mine rubies there – and some kind of battered hat.’ They paused to consider it. ‘Stay away from it.’ Dellara wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m sure it’s wrapped in a curse of some sort.’

  ‘Have you encountered anything promising?’ Marietta asked a few minutes later. ‘What about Pirlipata’s armour?’ Not a sound filtered down from the throne room above but their distraction would be short lived; sooner or later, the ball would resume. And then nothing would shield them from the king’s wrath.

  ‘Yes, I stumbled upon it a while back, I just decided not to mention it and I’m still searching because this ice pit is exactly where I’d love to while away an evening.’

  ‘Why do you feel a need to always be so— Wait, could that be it?’ Marietta peered into the slim alcove in front of her. It was situated lower to the stairs, sliced into the wall with slashing diagonal lines which rendered it near-invisible unless you were seated at an awkward position. Inside rested a narrow strip of forest-green lacquered wood, its surface mottled with shadows that undulated like smoke.

  Dellara’s face appeared beside Marietta’s, cheek to cheek. Marietta felt the smile that carved it into delight, reaching out to liberate the wand. ‘Oh, ho
w I’ve missed you,’ Dellara crooned to it.

  ‘Brilliant. Now let us make haste. I’m not returning without Pirlipata’s armour.’

  Dellara closed her eyes. She whispered to her wand. It shuddered and sparked, releasing an iridescent curl of light, a floating moonbeam. It slinked a few stairs down and hovered before a set of crimson armour. ‘There,’ she said with satisfaction, making her way over. Marietta helped her gently lift it down. This was no suit of armour that Marietta could have envisioned. It looked as if it had been designed by women for women. The metal was thin and light, crafted with thick leather for moveability and in several parts that would ensure full coverage once donned. Marietta ripped her petticoat out from under her dress and carefully wrapped it around the armour, fashioning it into a kind of bag she looped over her shoulder to carry. Dellara rendered it invisible and tucked her wand down her bodice as they ascended.

  Her bare arms numb, skin chilled, Marietta was growing aware of the need to return to the softer temperatures that rippled through the palace in one of the many enchantments designed to smooth life into something more pleasurable. She pressed her ear to the oval trapdoor. Deep, resounding silence. The ice had gobbled up any hint of activity above. Huffing out tiny clouds of exertion, Dellara reached Marietta. They shuffled around to allow Dellara, who had produced the mechanical mouse from her bodice like a magician, to insert it into the lock. Marietta waited. And waited.

  Dellara’s eyes leached of shadows, turning her irises and pupils frost-like. ‘There’s no lock on this side.’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Dellara reached into her bodice and pulled her wand out. She offered Marietta a shrug. ‘It seems I’m no longer accustomed to carrying it anymore.’ She held it in her left hand, her fingers a loose embrace around it.

  Marietta glanced down the spiral of ice stairs, imagining eyes freezing into her back. She shivered, unvoiced suspicions storming through her mind. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘The captain hinted that if there was any place we might find a key with which to cut ourselves an exit from this palace, it would be here. Ought we not to try and find one? If we were able to locate such a key, we would not have to spend an age searching through world after world for a way back to our homes. We could simply leave the palace for Everwood.’

  Dellara was studying the trapdoor. ‘That’s nothing but guesswork. We’re fortunate we found both my wand and Pirlipata’s armour in such a timeframe. If we were to begin another search now …’ Her eyes swirled into a maw. ‘Besides which, it could be a trap.’

  Marietta hesitated, her instincts clamouring at her. ‘I trust him.’ She began to descend.

  ‘Marietta, no!’ Dellara hissed at her. Marietta heard her issue a sigh before starting down the ice steps.

  Deeper and deeper she went, searching in vain. Down to where the periwinkle-soft glow receded and the cold bit harder, fiercer. She cast her gaze around until her fingers grew numb and her heart sickened at the treasures King Gelum was hoarding, a sadistic dragon grown fat from the spoils of that which did not belong to him. Bas-reliefs prised from ancient temples, statues far from home, weary with an age of lost hope and sadness, jewels in shapes and colours unknown to Marietta that ached to glimmer and shine under the love of their owner once more. Deeper still, Marietta discovered a fresh horror, terrible and haunting. Bones. ‘He collected people in here, too,’ she whispered.

  ‘This is futile; we must leave at once, Marietta,’ Dellara said. She nodded at the skeleton collapsed on the step below them. ‘It does us no good to dwell on such things.’

  Marietta looked at her and nodded. Dellara climbed back up the long spiral of stairs, Marietta at her heels, her back beginning to protest under the weight of Pirlipata’s armour. Just below the trapdoor, a door had been mounted into the ice. A circular door the colour of frostberries, engraved with snow globes. She paused to consider it.

  ‘Come on!’ Dellara called.

  Marietta often felt as if the prospect of multiple lands were like gazing at a shelf of snow globes, each one containing an entire world, the snow flurries falling to reveal dreams or nightmares within. She reached out and opened the door. Laughed to herself. Behind it were rows of hooks, and on each one, a key dangled. Golden keys that glittered with a magic of their own. She pocketed one, closed the door and hurried up to Dellara.

  At the trapdoor, Dellara was funnelling her dagger-edged focus onto her wand, breathing deeply before snapping her gaze up and whipping the wand towards the trapdoor with fierce intent. Marietta felt the smooth caress of something wild and strange flit past her and their exit opened.

  Chaos greeted them. Concealed from view by the throne, they peered out at the scene. Soldiers herded miniature reindeer, some revellers contributing their efforts as if it were just another facet of the immersive ball. Others guarded their frippery, wary of the reindeers’ affinity to chew anything in sight. A wall of faceless guards barricaded the staircase, preventing access to the upper levels. Searching the crowd, Marietta unintentionally caught Claren’s eye. She froze, a silent plea for him not to betray them on her lips. His face illuminated with mischief as he deposited a miniature reindeer into a makeshift pen, oblivious that another had attached itself to his skewed jacket.

  Looking around, he gave Marietta a wink and an exaggerated nod that was decidedly unsubtle. Though she had been gladdened to sight Claren and not his pompous brother, who held more serious career aspirations for which he might have traded them. Or even Fin, who was as sweet natured as he was anxious and whose panic would have signposted their transgressions at once.

  ‘Follow me,’ Marietta said over her shoulder, sliding up under the king’s throne and darting into the nearest snow globe. Kicking the trapdoor shut behind her, Dellara followed.

  ‘Where in the stars have you been?’ Pirlipata hissed at them from behind, giving Marietta a start. The princess rose from a carved ice-seat, the silken folds of her sunset dress gliding to the snow-dusted glass floor. ‘You ought to have returned long before now, I—’ She fell silent as a passing server scurried past, collecting chocolate globes back onto his tray before they were devoured by reindeer. ‘I have been under a snowstorm of worry,’ she said once he was out of earshot.

  The reindeer had lessened in number since they’d entered the secret chamber. They were being escorted back to their stables in droves as time beat its relentless drum. ‘We must make haste,’ Marietta told Dellara with urgency.

  Pirlipata threw her hands up. ‘That is precisely my point.’

  ‘Pass me the mouse.’ Marietta held her palm out. ‘I shall dance close enough to slip it back into his pocket.’

  Dellara gave her a sceptical onceover. Marietta returned the look. ‘Fine, fine.’ Dellara passed it over. ‘But ensure you’re not caught in the act,’ she added seriously. ‘I’ve grown rather fond of you.’

  Marietta hesitated. ‘Oh, well, as it happens—’

  ‘Hurry.’ Dellara ushered her out of the snow globe.

  Marietta approached King Gelum. She retained him in her sights, imagining he was one of the stags her father had instructed her to shoot on their country estate. She had refused once it had appeared in her crosshairs, drawn to its regal manner, its intrinsic grace. After Theodore had taken the killing shot himself, she had declined to accompany him on any more such outings.

  King Gelum was conversing with Captain Legat. ‘—situation covered, seems most logical it was a harmless prank. I remain certain it was not an assassination attempt, not the least due to the Mistpointians not possessing sufficient imagination for the likes of this,’ Legat was saying. ‘You know better than to overestimate the fish-people,’ he added in a lighter tone.

  Amusement curled around the king’s features. It evaporated upon him marking Marietta’s presence. She smiled prettily, paying no heed to how the captain’s presence toyed with her emotions. He remained at the king’s side, standing tall in his impeccable livery, an arm tucked behind his back, the other hand a fingerbr
eadth from his sword. She felt his eyes on her.

  ‘It would seem the reindeer have been returned to their stables,’ she said without waiting to be granted permission to speak. ‘I cannot help but notice your guests have become inflicted with restlessness.’ King Gelum’s eye wandered onto the gossiping, glamorous creatures that filled his halls in an enchantment of gowns, coated in a pall of boredom. Marietta pouted, the expression an unfamiliar configuration of lips and petulance. Legat coughed into a gloved fist. She studiously avoided his gaze. ‘And I wish to dance,’ she added, stealing closer to the king.

  A spark of fury danced over him. The swords on his cape glinted. ‘You dare to impose such demands upon your king?’ His voice was low, punctured with ice.

  Marietta’s scarred feet throbbed. ‘My apologies, it was a mere invitation.’

  He stepped forward, his eyebrows pinching together as she failed to allow him space. His breath was rot-sweet when he spoke into her face. ‘I am the king. I am not in need of an invitation. I shall take what I desire, when I desire it and you would do well to remember that.’

  Marietta’s throat grew too dry to form words. King Gelum considered her with a budding smile.

  Dellara materialised at her side. ‘I’m certain she intended you no disrespect, Your Majesty,’ she said smoothly, pressing Marietta’s hand. ‘She’s merely naïve to our ways.’ Her hand left Marietta’s, which was now empty. ‘Perhaps you might see it in your generous nature to forgive her her impetuosity?’ Dellara crept closer to the king and, fast as a snake strike, dropped the mouse back into his pocket, allowing her fingers to linger upon his side as she did so, accompanied by a syrupy smile.

  King Gelum looked between them, suspicion gathering like a snowstorm. He removed Dellara’s hand, dropping it without ceremony. His other hand dipped into his pocket. Marietta attempted to conjure an air of innocence around herself. She sensed Dellara projecting the same attitude beside her. The captain was expressionless, rigid, refusing to meet Marietta’s eye when she stole a glance at him.