“Are you sure this is alright?” he asked as soon as she was out of hearing distance. In the dim candlelight between us, I nervously caught my bottom lip between my teeth and nodded.
“Yes,” I replied, pulling the fur blanket away from my shoulders.
“I should warn you,” he said, cracking a smile. “I snore.”
I couldn’t stop the small grin forming on my own lips. “Truly?”
He chuckled and crossed his arms across his chest as his blue eyes twinkled with delight.
“No,” he laughed. “At least, I’m not certain. No one has ever told me truthfully. Perhaps you could be so kind as to tell me so in the morning.”
I understood what he was doing. His teasing had put me at ease, at least temporarily. I began to nod when Mother Ginger reappeared with a soft, pink gown and a pile of extra blankets in her arms. I admired the way the skirt flowed in the gentle breeze of her movements. She handed the dress to me with a warm smile, while the Nutcracker took the blankets and candle from me.
“I hope you like it.”
I loved it. It was one of the loveliest dresses I had ever seen. The color would certainly compliment my complexion. The sheer layer of gossamer on the skirt added an extra effect of softness, like a gentle snow over a thick blanket of white powder. The sleeves were long, with bellowed cuffs, and the sweetheart curve of the neckline was elegantly hemmed with lace.
If I looked closely, even in the candlelight, it shimmered with secret sparkles.
“Thank you,” I replied with an eager smile.
“Rest well,” she said to the both of us and curtsied to the Nutcracker. And then, just as quickly, left us alone by the door.
Chapter 11
The Nutcracker turned on his booted heel and opened the oak wooden door, holding it back for me. I stepped over the threshold, gazing around the intricate room. Everything was warm and appeared comfortable, cozy. It was so different from my own home; marble and austere.
The quilt on the bed was made of different scraps of fabric. A small cuckoo clock hung on the wall beside the bed, resembling the very same house we were in. In the corner of the room, a large, stone fireplace loomed. The sight of the hearth made me sigh with relief. It was not the snow that chilled my bones, but rather the terrors we had faced—and the terrors I presumed were still ahead of us.
As if he read my mind, the Nutcracker crossed the room and knelt beside the fireplace, grabbing at the few logs that were left there. I closed the door and found a place for the candle on a half empty tray. A few other candles had been burned down, but I lit them anyway, relieved by the light. I felt weary as I unwrapped myself from the fur, the bed still so far, yet close enough to fall into. I laid the dress neatly across the quilt, and then took off my lone slipper and set it beside an armoire. I would need to ask Mother Ginger for a new pair in the morning.
Flint struck wood, and then came a gentle crackle of the flames in the hearth. I tiptoed over to Nutcracker and glanced over his shoulder at the small fire he had quickly crafted. Fear shot through me as I watched him slip another log into the fireplace.
“S-Shouldn’t you be careful?” I asked hesitantly, coming to kneel beside him. “I can tend to the fire.”
The Nutcracker chuckled. “I’ll be fine, Clara.”
“But—” I bit down on the inside of my cheek. He was not a delicate creature, that much I knew. He could take care of himself. Surely, he did not need a young girl fretting over the idea that he might set himself aflame.
“You should get some rest.” As he turned his blue gaze to me, my stomach fluttered with small butterflies.
As much as I knew my mother would disapprove of such an arrangement, I was struck with guilt. He had said he would take the floor. But how could I do such a thing to my poor Nutcracker? After all that we’d been through.
“I wouldn’t feel right about you. . . sleeping on the floor,” I replied.
“I’ll be fine,” he explained softly. “Don’t worry about me. After all, my skin is a little tougher than yours. I’m practically made of the same thing.”
He rapped his knuckles against the floorboard.
Rolling my eyes, I rose to my feet and gathered the blankets from the corner of the bed where I had left them. He turned slightly, watching me as I laid the furs onto the floor, creating a makeshift bed. I found a few more blankets in a small closet and added a few more layers, including a thick wool blanket. I grabbed an extra pillow from the bed and completed it with that one final touch.
I admired my handiwork and gestured to it proudly with both hands.
“Your bed, your highness,” I teased.
“Your highness?” he asked as he rose to his feet and came to stand before me. “Thank you. You didn’t have to—”
“It’s the least I could do,” I managed. He lifted my chin, tilting it just so to peer at what I presumed was the scratch I had acquired from the battle in the parlor. I hoped he couldn’t see the shade of pink I was sure tinted my face.
“A scratch,” he said gently. “I’m glad that’s all the damage he managed to inflict.”
“Me too,” I replied. He released my chin and exhaled slowly.
“It’s been a long night. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
“Aren’t you?” I asked as I moved to the side of the bed.
The clean quilt and blankets looked rather inviting. I wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath them and give in to sleep. But instead, we stared at one another, unsure of who would slip into their beds first. I presumed he’d need to undress. I hadn’t thought of such a thing. My eyes quickly darted to the bed as I began to peel the many layers of blankets aside.
Even as I found myself burrowing underneath them all, I avoided his gaze. I heard his boots cross the room, stopping just beside me. I watched as he pulled the blankets up to my shoulders. His eyes twinkled with kindness; truer sincerity had not been shown to me before in such a long time.
“Sleep well, Lady Clara,” he said with a flash of a smile. It was strange how he seemed to put me at ease.
Just the way Anton had in the lone hallway in the servant’s quarters.
“You too. . . Nutcracker,” I replied. As I closed my eyes and rested my head in the feather soft pillow, I listened to the sounds of him. The clunk of his boots clattering against the floor as he took them off. The sounds of buttons coming undone and fabric being folded. Finally, I heard him crawl between the blankets on the floor.
I resisted the urge to sneak a peek at my slumbering Nutcracker. What did he look like as he slept?
I force myself to roll to my side and face the wall. As minutes passed, I heard the gentle rhythm of his breathing coming from across the room. Did he sleep? Truly sleep? What did he dream of when he closed his eyes? The ticking of the clock nearby gently lulled me to sleep until there was nothing but warmth coming from the crackling fire.
As I drifted into the darkness, I could hear the faint melody of “Deck the Halls” being played on a grand piano. I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but I knew if I only opened my eyes, I’d find out.
The sudden sounds of laughter and clinking of wine glasses woke me. Where was I? As I gazed around, taking in the sights of the familiar parlor and all the guests, I realized I was home. Everything was just as it had been before. I looked down at myself, still dressed in my Christmas gown. Both feet covered. Not one slipper in sight.
Had going to Winter Dream been all a wild and beautiful dream?
I rose to my feet, slipping away from the lone sofa in the hall. I was determined to rejoin the party and see things for myself. In the distance, I was sure I heard Uncle Drosselmeyer’s laughter fill the air.
“Magic is in the air.”
I needed to speak with Uncle Drosselmeyer—to tell him of the Nutcracker and the battle with the mice. While my story might have seemed far-fetched, I knew he’d believe me. I knew he’d be able to explain all that I had experienced. But as I pushed open the doors of the parlor, expe
cting to find the room filled with guests, there was no one. Just voices that did not belong to any bodies. Across the room, a tall man stood by a long table, topped with glasses of wines and brandy.
He turned, raising a glass in my direction.
Lord Yakov.
But where was Mama? Papa? Uncle Drosselmeyer? Anton. Anton. I turned, searching for any sign of him around the room. But there was nothing. He and Uncle Drosselmeyer had to be somewhere close by. Again, I heard his laughter fill my ears, but there was no one. No one but Lord Yakov and I. Where was Masha? Lord Andrei?
They would have never left me alone.
“Lady Clara,” Lord Yakov said with a smile as he crossed the room. “Please, come dance with me.”
“Thank you, Lord Yakov, but I—”
“I won’t accept your rejection, Lady Clara,” he said, eerily tender as he took my hand and pressed a kiss against the tops of my fingers. I tugged them free and took a step back.
“Perhaps a little later, Lord Yakov. There’s someone I must find.”
“Of course,” he tsked as he took the last gulp of brandy from his glass. Instead of placing it on the nearby table, Lord Yakov let it slip from his hand, smashing onto the floor by our feet. Startled, I took another step back.
“I’m afraid you won’t find your little apprentice around here or anywhere,” he said, lifting a corner his mouth into a snarl. A snarl that seemed so oddly familiar.
“I’m not sure—”
“Don’t lie,” he hissed with a voice quite unlike his own. There was something about him—something strangely terrifying. This wasn’t Lord Yakov.
“You should want me, Lady Clara. After all, I am real. Only I can provide you with every wish your heart may desire.” He reached for me, his fingers turning into sharp claws. His black suit changed into a dark hue of blue.
Behind me, I could hear the grandfather clock chime three times; with each stroke, my heart skipped a beat. As I gazed upon Lord Yakov again, I found instead, the misshapen form of the Mouse King.
Instead of one head, this time, he had three, all adorned with a tiny, crooked golden crown. His nose had grown long and pointed; his eyes were beady and filled with hot rage.
“Come, Lady Clara,” he taunted, reaching again for me. I screamed. I tried to turn on my heel, only to find I was suddenly pinned down at the legs by his mice scouts.
“Nutcracker!” I sobbed. “Uncle Drosselmeyer!”
Their sharp claws dug into the flesh of my legs, tearing at me little by little. I had never felt so afraid in my life. The Mouse King cackled, his horrible laughter tearing through to my heart.
It pierced me deeply.
And then, I opened my eyes and sat up, gasping for air. As I gazed around the room, I realized I was in Mother Ginger’s inn. The flames of the fire were long gone; only soft orange glowing embers remained. As I peered over the end of the bed, I saw my Nutcracker, huddled in a far corner, a blanket over his still form. He wasn’t far away. He had instead veered from the makeshift bed I had made him.
I wondered why.
With a small sigh, I pushed myself from the bed and tiptoed to his side. Taking one of the extra blankets from the floor, I paused and watched him. His white hair was a mess of curls, blending in with the white shirt he still wore from his uniform. His eyelashes were long, and laid just so on the crest of his high cheekbones. He was beautiful.
I carefully draped the blanket over his shoulders, and smoothed out the one around his feet, making sure he was being kept warm. Perhaps it was foolish. He was, after all, just a nutcracker. But he was mine. He was my friend. In the few short hours we had known each other, he had saved my life—and I, his.
“Clara?” His voice broke the quiet stillness in the room. I saw his blue eyes open and stare at me groggily. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. . . you rolled away from your bed.”
“I did?” he asked and peered to look at the pile of blankets he had left behind. With a sleepy chuckle, he nodded. “It seems I have.”
Just as I began to rise to my feet, I felt his wooden hand grasp mine and stop me.
“Could you not sleep?”
“A nightmare,” I replied quickly.
He sat up slightly, releasing my hand as he grunted. “Let me guess—the cowardly piglet?”
I hesitated before I said, “Yes.”
He nodded slowly, as though he were only beginning to understand what I was saying.
“There’s more to it, I suspect. What else troubles you?”
Even at his sleepiest, he could tell there was something else on my mind. We were alone. I should not have felt afraid to shed the weight of my burden, to tell him that I was as afraid of Lord Yakov as I was the Mouse King. Maybe more. The Mouse King existed outside of my world, nothing more than a rodent in the parlor.
He could be defeated.
Lord Yakov, I feared, could not.
“Don’t be afraid, Clara.”
My heart skipped. Anton had said the same thing, but at least that had been a pleasant dream. “There was more to it than the Mouse King.”
“Please, tell me.” Though he was exhausted, I knew he would listen. I took a deep breath and situated myself on the floor in front of the slowly dying embers. He leaned over toward the hearth and placed another log onto the fire.
“Thank you,” I said. “There is a man in my world—a distempered and foul man—who I think may want to marry me. I loathe him entirely too much, but it is not my place. Rather, it is my duty to do as I am told.”
“Ah, I see,” he said thoughtfully and yawned. “And how did he appear to you?”
“He was forceful, rude.” I paused another beat. “Twisted, in a way. The moment I realized he was not himself, he became a three-headed monster.”
“The Mouse King?” Nutcracker blinked.
“He was a horribly ugly thing.”
“Of course. He is an ugly thing by nature.” He cracked a smile, but it soon fell into a frown. I sensed his sympathy. “I am sorry, Clara. What a horrible dream to have.”
“Yes, well, it was only a dream, after all.” I stood quickly, but his hand gently grasped mine.
I looked back down at him, surprised by the vulnerable conviction in his expression as he said, “I won’t let the Mouse King harm you. You have my word... as your protector.”
“And who will protect you?” I turned my wrist in his hold and ran my fingers along the curve of his thumb.
The Nutcracker flashed a small, gentle smile. “Leave that to me.”
“Your highness.” I bowed my head slightly.
“Get some rest, Clara,” he replied softly. “I’ll be sure to keep you and your dreams safe. No mouse or intended fiancé shall find you while I guard your slumber.”
And for a moment, I wanted to believe he could. I wanted to believe he could keep Lord Yakov and the Mouse King away. I wished nothing more than to stay just as we were, safe and tucked away in a room where no one would find us. I rose to my feet again, keeping silent as I trekked back to the bed. As I crawled back underneath the covers, I saw the Nutcracker watching me, just as he promised.
Laying back, I felt the strangest sense of confidence. I knew as I closed my eyes, he would keep watch over my dreams, even if he couldn’t be there.
And so I drifted, dreaming of sweeter things.
Chapter 12
Ding. Cuckoo!
Ding. Cuckoo!
Ding. Cuckoo!
* * *
I groaned and rolled to my side, a poor attempt to escape the infernal sound that disturbed my sleep. Where was it coming from? I did not recall ever having a cuckoo clock in my room. As I groggily opened my eyes, I was overcome by the familiar scent of freshly-baked bread. It filled the air with the most pleasant aroma. And for that reason only, I silently forgave the cuckoo clock for its intrusion.
I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. It was hard to remember anything through the thick fog of
exhaustion, but I was certain of one thing: It was Christmas morning. Everyone would be stirring from their slumber soon enough, and the cooks would be hard at work preparing a fantastic dinner. The thought of our cooks’ food nearly made me homesick. But then, Mother Ginger’s baking reminded me that there would be food waiting, and the feeling was gone.
Oddly enough, a part of me was glad to be missing the morning meal. I wondered what Mama and Papa would do once they realized I was missing. Would they scramble about the house, calling out for me? Surely, they would think it a game and order Fritz to find me. The thought made me smile.
What would Uncle Drosselmeyer and Anton do?
And Lord Yakov…
Don’t worry about him, Clara. He’s a world away for now, I told myself. As I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I gazed out across the room. The Nutcracker. He was still fast asleep, curled amongst the blankets on the floor.
I froze, keeping myself in place, hoping not to stir him. I carefully pulled the blanket up around my shoulders and stared at him for a few moments longer. Even with his strange wood-like appearance, he was handsome. His hair was thick, with white curls, while his lips were curved and seemingly soft.
As I peered again at his face, I was greeted by his bright blue eyes staring back at me. His brows were raised curiously, watching.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered as my face warmed. “I was just…”
“Watching?” he finished with a half chuckle. “It’s alright.”
I felt embarrassed, having been caught watching him. Nothing but silence remained between us as he slowly pushed himself up to sit.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked suddenly, stretching his arm above his head.
I curled my hand underneath my chin and nodded silently.
The Nutcracker pushed himself up to his feet, as he slid a hand through his snow-white curls.
“Smells like Mother Ginger is back to baking,” he said gently. “Are you hungry?”
“A little,” I replied with a half shrug. I sat and watched as he crouched in front of the fireplace. He put two more logs into the still-warm ashes, stoking it with an iron rod until the flames came back to life.
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