“Alright,” I answered breathlessly.
As we approached the doorway, I could make out the shape of Lady Irina in one of the large windows overlooking the garden. Her gaze caught mine as she crossed her arms against her chest. Her eyes were a piercing red, scorching with disdain. Red, like the mice. Red like the Mouse King. I almost screamed at the sight. My stomach knotted with fear before I disappeared from her view. The Nutcracker pulled us into the palace, shutting the doors behind us, just as another growl pierced the sky from behind me.
I gasped as he stopped in the corridor and peered at me.
“Are you alright, Clara?” he asked as he touched my shoulder gingerly. I stared at him wordlessly as I pressed a hand against my stomach. What had I just seen? Those eyes. Irina’s red eyes.
“We should retire,” the Nutcracker stated. “I’m sure we’ll have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” I could only nod again as I tried to calm my racing heart. Perhaps I had seen wrong. Perhaps it was from the glow of the moonlight and the brightly burning candles.
My side and mind burned from exhaustion. Before I had the chance to reply, the Nutcracker swept me into his arms. I didn’t resist as he cradled me against his body. Instead, I rested my head against his shoulder and allowed him to carry me up to my room.
The fear of being chased by the mice not once, but twice in one day had been nearly too much. I heard Marzipan’s alarmed voice as the Nutcracker entered my room and carefully placed me down onto the bed. The room was dim from the glow of the burning fireplace, sending long shadows to chase one another up and down the walls. I might have been afraid, but I was tired and my mind had played enough tricks on me for the night.
“What happened to Lady Clara? Is she alright, your highness?”
“She will be,” he said softly. “Let her rest.”
I felt his smooth hand brush against my temples.
“Rest now, Clara,” he whispered. I nodded slowly against the pillow and watched as he turned, gave a nod to Marzipan, and disappeared through the adjoining door. He wasn’t too far away from me. If I needed him, he would be next door. I could run that far, if need be.
Marzipan’s cool hands found my temples as she brushed my hair from my face.
“Come, Lady Clara. Let’s get you out of your gown. And then you can rest,” she said softly as she helped me to sit. My heart had finally calmed, beating as steady and as normal as ever. My side no longer felt tight.
“W-What happened?” she asked, her eyes wide with concern as she unfolded a simple white nightgown beside me.
“I don’t know,” I replied, shaking my head. “I think we were being chased by one of the Mouse King’s scouts.”
“How terrifying!” she said, helping me to my feet. Between the two of us, we peeled the dress from my stiff body, and I changed into the nightgown. As I laid back into the bed, I felt myself relax into the sheets, which felt cool against my warmed skin.
“But the owl…”
“An owl?” She repeated my words as she drew the covers up to my chin. She looked confused, too concerned already by my news and current state. I shook my head and told her it was nothing.
Perhaps it was best to keep some things to myself. If the owl was Uncle Drosselmeyer, then that meant he had been watching me. Maybe. I wasn’t certain what he plans were, but I hoped he was here to help me—to help Nutcracker.
“Rest well, Lady Clara,” Marzipan murmured as she turned toward the door. “If you need me, you only need to ring the bell on the table.” She gestured toward a silver bell in the middle of the table, where the tray had been mere hours before. I gave a nod before she disappeared. As soon as the door closed, I slid deeper into the sheets and closed my eyes.
“If that’s you, Uncle Drosselmeyer,” I murmured under my breath as I pulled the top coverlet over my head, burrowing beneath it. “I need you.”
Chapter 18
There was sunlight. I could feel it on the side of my cheek. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel the warmth of it against my skin. Lazily lifting one eyelid, I glanced around the room. I was back in the parlor of my family’s home, lying on the sofa in my dressing gown. Jolting up, I peered around the room, desperately searching for a glimpse of my Nutcracker. But he was not in the distant cabinet, nor was he on the floor near the fireplace.
Feeling tears stir to life, I tried to control my panic. I had returned. I had returned without so much as a goodbye. I had left him to face the Mouse King all on his own. My chest tightened. He must have been sad to know that I had gone, when moments ago I had told I would stay.
Yet, how had I returned without breaking his spell?
As I glanced around the parlor room again, I realized nothing seemed to be disturbed. There were no remnants of the battle from before between the mice and the toy soldiers. I expected little men and dead rats scattered along the pristine hardwood floor, but there was nothing. Out in the corner of my eye, I saw a looming figure standing behind the grandfather clock.
Was it?
Could it be?
As I sat up, my feet on the floor, I peered more closely to see it was, in fact, my Uncle Drosselmeyer. With a playful smile, he gestured to the decorated tree in front of me and chuckled.
“Poor Clara,” he murmured softly. “It’s all been quite a mess…”
“Uncle Drosselmeyer!” I clenched my fists as I sat up, glaring at him. “What’s happened? Why am I here? And where is Nutcracker?”
I needed to know. I needed to return to him and Winter Dream before it was too late.
Uncle Drosselmeyer took a step toward me and moved his fingers to rest upon his bottom lip. His one gleaming eye peered into mine, the other hidden behind a secure eyepatch. He still appeared as he had at the Christmas party; his white hair fell in loose strands around his face and his purple suit was as crisp as ever. There was a strangeness about him, an air of the unknown that made me question why he was there in the first place.
“He is where he has always been,” he said carefully. I didn’t understand. Why was he filling my head with riddles? Surely he understood that this was no time for silliness and mind puzzles.
“Where?” I asked insistently. “Why have I returned? I thought—”
“Moya devushka,” Uncle Drosselmeyer said, clicking his tongue before I could continue.
He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small pocket watch. As he lifted the lid of the clock, he shook his head.
“There isn’t much time.”
“Time?” I asked, alarmed. “How do I go back?” I asked as I wrapped my arms around myself. I couldn’t stop myself from shivering. My stomach twisted into deeper knots at the mere idea of never seeing my Nutcracker again.
He still needed me.
“I have to return to Winter Dream, don’t you see?” I whispered. “I . . . there is so much to be done, Uncle Drosselmeyer!” I begged. “And Irina—” I knew something wasn't right. I knew she wasn’t all that she appeared to be.
His whiskered lips curled into a tight smile as he nodded.
“. . . and you said you needed me. It seems I was right after all. You are ready.”
“Ready?”
“Yes,” he said with a chuckle, and came to stand beside me. Carefully, he took my hands in his large one. His eye glittered with amusement as he patted my knuckles. I was having a hard time understanding what he found so amusing.
“You did this,” I stated firmly. “You did all of this.”
“Yes,” he answered with a chuckle. “And I was not wrong in my judgment of you, moya devushka. Ever since you were a little girl, I knew. . . oh, I knew there was something about you. I knew you’d be the one to save him.”
“Him?” The Nutcracker? “Have you always possessed the Nutcracker?”
“For several decades,” he said softly. “He’s served me well as my apprentice.”
Apprentice. The words struck me as my eyes grew wide. Did he mean. . . Anton? The young man I had met at the Christmas
party? The boy with the kind blue eyes and generous smile; the one whom I had been drawn to.
“Anton?” I asked softly, carefully trying to piece together everything I had experienced with what I now knew. Anton was the Nutcracker. Anton. . .
Raising a brow, Uncle Drosselmeyer pursed his lips together. “You were always meant to save Winter Dream.”
“But is Anton. . . he’s the Nutcracker?” My voice trembled as I gazed up into Uncle Drosselmeyer’s eyes.
“Would it truly matter to you?” he asked, patting his hand against mine again. “Everything will reveal itself in due course, moya devushka.”
“Everything?”
“Yes,” Uncle Drosselmeyer chuckled. “All in due course, Clara. You will find all the answers you have been looking for. But you must remember to search with not just your eyes, but your heart. Your soul. They will not betray you in the lands of Winter Dream.”
“So you’ll allow me to return?”
Uncle Drosselmeyer’s laughter filled my ears. “You see, moya devushka, you never truly left in the first place.” He lifted his hand and gestured over my shoulder. As I turned on my heel, I could see myself lying in the lavish room back in the palace. I was. . . asleep.
“This is. . . a dream?”
“Dreams are powerful in Winter Dream, moya devushka,” he said softly as he took a step back. “Remember to look not with your eyes, but your heart and soul. You have the answers. You need only to piece them together.”
As he took another step back into the darkness, I could feel a tugging, pulling me back into the bedroom, back to my still sleeping form. I watched until there was no sight of him left.
It was only as I turned to step back into the bedroom that I saw the large, looming Mouse King.
He was much taller than I remembered. As he opened his mouth, sharp, dagger-like teeth glimmered in the light. He lifted his hands, revealing pointed claws. I wanted to scream; no matter how hard I tried, no sound emerged. His eyes were wide and angry as he took a step closer to me. The sleeping me.
This time, I had no Nutcracker to save me and no slippers to throw. The Mouse King leaped forward toward the bed, reaching to grab me. I screamed as I jerked back into the darkness.
“Clara?”
I opened my eyes wide, finding the Nutcracker peering down at me; his eyes were filled with concern. His carved hand swept away a lock of hair from my forehead. A bead of sweat rolled down my temple.
“You were having a nightmare,” he murmured gently.
The room was aglow with a candle, one I presumed the Nutcracker had brought with him to check on me. The embers in the fireplace were only a soft shade of orange in the darkness. We were alone. There was no one but the Nutcracker and I. As I turned my attention back to Nutcracker, I noticed his disheveled white hair and wrinkled shirt, as though he had just rolled from his bed. My body still trembled from the nightmare. It had felt so real. The Mouse King had been here, in my room.
“Clara?” the Nutcracker asked again as he cupped my cheek. I pulled myself to sit up straighter in my bed. “Are you alright?” His voice was a mere whisper between us. I nodded slowly as the pulsing of my heart continued ringing in my ears.
“H-How long was I…?”
“I heard you through the door,” the Nutcracker replied, tilting his head toward the adjoining door. “When I heard you shouting—”
“I was shouting?” I asked, lifting myself up onto my elbows.
“A bit,” he said with a small smile. “Would you like to talk about your dream?”
A dream. It must have only been a dream.
It was a relief to know the Mouse King hadn’t broken into the palace and found me. We were safe, the two of us. As I slowly sunk back into the blankets, I shook my head. Perhaps I should have told him about my dream with the Mouse King and Uncle Drosselmeyer, but I couldn’t bring myself to voice it aloud. Not yet. Not when my heart was pounding so hard. His blue eyes studied me as his hand stroked the crown of my head. It was easy to find comfort in his tenderness. I couldn’t resist the urge to hug him. I pushed myself back up again and wrapped my arms around his neck tightly.
“Thank you,” I murmured against his cheek. I could feel him suck in a breath as his hands gently wrapped around me.
“For?”
“For waking me.”
I felt him release a huff of a laugh and he nodded slightly. I closed my eyes, enjoying the musky scent of pine and spruce lingering on him and his shirt.
“Clara,” he whispered against my ear. I could almost hear the smile in his voice at the sound of my name. Then, he pulled away, his hands grasping either side of my shoulders. I watched as he rose to his feet and crossed the room to the fireplace. A moment later, flames began to lick around a log he had placed into the hearth. The room suddenly brightened from the light.
I stared at the flames, remembering Uncle Drosselmeyer and his words. Anton. I moved my gaze back to the Nutcracker’s face as he turned and began to walk back to the side of the bed.
Could it be?
Was he truly. . . Anton? How could such a thing be possible? Uncle Drosselmeyer had gifted me the Nutcracker, and he had been there. Perhaps my mind had been running wild, causing such an unexplainable dream. How could any of it be true?
“You should try to rest,” the Nutcracker said, breaking through my thoughts. As I shifted my gaze away from his eyes, I slowly nodded.
“I’ll try.”
“You’re safe,” he reassured me. “I could set a few mouse traps with cheese, just to be sure. We have very large ones here. They’re useful for rodents of unusual sizes.”
I shook my head, grasping his arm before he could do such a thing.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I replied.
“Once I brought you here,” the Nutcracker began, drawing his hand back up to my forehead again; his thumb brushed over my temples. “I ordered my guards to keep watch over the perimeter. After our encounter in the garden. . .”
The eyes. The red eyes. But they hadn’t belonged to a mouse. Instead, they had belonged to Irina. It could have been my own eyes playing tricks on me, but the more I thought of the moment, the more I understood Uncle Drosselmeyer’s warning: “Remember to look not with your eyes, but your heart and soul.”
“And Lady Irina?” I asked.
“She had already retired upon our return,” he replied, tilting his head curiously. “Why?”
I shook my head, deciding to remain silent on what I had seen earlier in the evening. While I wanted to trust my eyes, my heart and soul felt so unsure.
“Nothing,” I whispered. The Nutcracker shifted and carefully eased me back into the plush pillows behind me.
“Rest, Clara. It was a difficult day, and tomorrow will be filled with new challenges, I’m sure.”
I allowed him to tuck the blankets around me until I felt secure and safe again. The crackling of the log in the hearth was the only sound between the two of us as he took a step back.
“I’ll just be in the other room,” he said again, gesturing to the door. I nodded slowly, casting my gaze back to him. As he began to turn, I slowly eased up onto my elbow, watching him.
“Nutcracker?” I asked, causing him to pause and gaze at me.
“Yes?”
“We are friends, aren’t we?”
He wrinkled his brow in confusion as he slowly nodded. “Of course.”
“A true friend?” I echoed, using the same words Anton had at the Christmas party.
“Would you allow me the honor of calling you my friend, Clara? A true friend.” He had asked. It had been the most sincere thing I had heard all night.
And for a moment, I saw the Nutcracker’s eyes widen with a startled realization before he quickly shifted, tilting half of his face into the darkness. The corner of his lips pulled into a tender smile.
“Yes, Clara. A true friend.”
We stared at one another for a moment more before he bowed his head and disappeared
into his room.
Chapter 19
The entire palace had been abuzz with excitement for the evening’s gala. To my own surprise, I had awoken nearly midday, with the sun filling the room completely. I had never slept so long in all of my eighteen years. It must have been the exhaustion from all the events; everything that had led to me arriving to the Winter Dream palace. The mice, the battle, the sleigh-ride, and the evening in the garden.
I had finally had a moment to catch up on my much-needed sleep.
Marzipan came into my room in a hurried flurry with another silver tray, piled high with delicious-looking pastries; cranberry tarts, peppermint rolls, and warmed cinnamon tea. Her delivery did not come without the realization that I had missed breakfast with Nutcracker. I hadn’t meant to sleep so late.
“Good morning, Lady Clara,” said Marzipan cheerfully. “Or should I say afternoon?”
“Goodness,” I yawned. “Have I really slept the morning away?”
“Just so, miss.” Marzipan smiled, folding back the sheets of my bed. “I came to wake you earlier, but his highness suggested it might be best to let you rest.”
She reached for the tray and lifted the cup of tea, bringing to me. I took it gingerly, settled by the warmth of the steam and the sweet smell of cinnamon. I sipped, careful not to burn my lips or tongue, and watched her fret about my room. It seemed she was in as much of a tizzy as ever.
“Marzipan.”
“Yes?”
“Where is the Nutcracker?” I asked quickly.
“Oh, well his highness is out scouting the grounds,” she said as I took a sip and the cinnamon tickled my nose.
“Scouting?”
“Guards were placed around the palace last night. The prince wanted to be sure everything was secure for the gala tonight. There were rumors this morning that a guard had a sighting of the Mouse King,” Marzipan said, a little skeptical of the story herself.
I wondered if she believed any of it, even mine and Nutcracker’s experience. “But stories are often told by men with little else to do, and spread by women who love the sound of their own voices.”
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