Winterdream

by Chantal Gadoury

  Suddenly, applause broke out all around us, shattering our moment. Lady Irina’s voice filled the great room as the haunting melody came to an end.

  “To true love, my friends,” she said, laughing as she lifted a glass of wine toward us. “To true love.”

  I took a step back, feeling my cheeks begin to flush even more than before. He had kissed me, and in front of an entire room of courtiers. In front of Lady Irina. Such a thing would have never happened at a party at home. Very rarely would a couple manage to find a secluded space for dallying of that sort. It only ever happened in darkened parts of gardens and forgotten rooms.

  My mouth felt dry as I looked at him.

  “Clara?” he asked, a crease of concern lining his features. I shook my head and motioned toward one of the tables behind me.

  “I just. . . need a drink,” I quickly explained.

  Before he had the chance to respond, I turned and pushed my way through the dancing crowd. I shouldn’t have run away from him. I had wanted to kiss him. . . I had wanted him to kiss me, too.

  I found a table adorned with goblets of wine and juices, among fruits and pastries to eat. Turkish delights were stacked in a large bowl, along with lemon and cherry tarts, cinnamon apples, and sugared pears. Grabbing a goblet quickly, I filled it with the sweet juice and took a long sip.

  The music was suddenly too loud, too quick—like the rhythm of drums. It reminded me all too much of Fritz and his silly toy soldiers, their march to war and other such nonsense. I wished it would stop.

  As I glanced over my shoulder, I saw the other courtiers dancing in a large circle. The Nutcracker was no longer there. I darted my gaze to where Lady Irina stood; she was watching me. But where had he gone? Taking another sip, I scanned the rest of the dancers, hoping to see where the Nutcracker had gone.

  I hadn’t meant to offend him.

  I caught sight of Marzipan laughing and blushing with another courtier as they circled the room, lifting their skirts and kicking their legs to the music. Everything was so different here. Even in the way they conducted themselves. Mama would have surely told me how unlady-like lifting my skirt and kicking my legs would have been. I was almost certain Lord Yakov would have insisted on our departure from this sighting.

  But the joy and signs of celebration on their faces made me feel less uncertain. As two drums rolled in the distance, a piercing scream tore through the air. Everyone stopped the festivities. I turned to Lady Irina and found the Nutcracker walking toward me. His face was etched with fear and worry.

  Lowering my goblet to the table, I pushed through the crowd to meet him.

  “What was that?” I asked, forgetting my embarrassment completely.

  “Clara, don’t…” he said, reaching for my arm as I tried to lift myself up on my toes.

  I followed the horrified gazes of the onlookers to a nearby door that was now ajar. It was there that a severed head of a man who resembled the Nutcracker stared back at me. His face had been mockingly painted; his cheeks pink, lines drawn from the corners of his mouth to his chin. Large, white teeth had been painted over his lips. And his gray, hazy eyes were struck wide in horror.

  The Nutcracker slid his arms around me, pulling me back from the scene. As he turned away, I pressed my face into his chest, smelling the faint hint of spruce and pine on him. It was enough to assure me that he was here—whole. There was no way the desecrated head belonged to my Nutcracker.

  “Come, Clara,” I heard him whisper against my ear.

  “Who is it?” I asked, trembling in his arms. “W-Who would do such a thing?”

  Suddenly, Lady Irina’s voice bellowed at the terrified crowd of courtiers.

  “Do not be afraid! Do not…” But it was to no avail. Everyone was dashing about, screaming, crying—escaping through the wide open doors of the castle.

  “The Mouse King?” I asked, lifting my chin slightly, catching his gaze.

  What had happened to the guards around the perimeter of the palace? I wondered then if the man who had been beheaded belonged to the guard. Perhaps he had been taken and tortured, his body left somewhere on the grounds.

  Don’t think like that, Clara. I told myself, hoping to sweep aside my horror and disgust.

  The Nutcracker remained silent, clenching his jaw and shifting his gaze over the crowd. His blue eyes were sad, filled with remorse and defeat. He nodded silently to my question as he held me more tightly against him.

  “This is clearly the doing of the Mouse King,” Lady Irina announced fervently. “Cease your cries and listen to me!”

  As her voice and tone rose, the chaos of the partygoers died down and they all took pause and looked to her. Satisfied with their response, Lady Irina darted her furious gaze to a set of guards beside her.

  “Go! Search the grounds; find the Mouse King! For we know who committed this heinous misdeed!”

  The line of guards dressed in red suits dashed from the room, their bayonets at the ready.

  “We have lost a friend,” Lady Irina continued. “But do not let his death be in vain. We all must be on the lookout for this intruder!”

  “We must be ready,” she repeated firmly. Her command was stern.

  As she stood above the crowd, I could see the power she held over them. It seemed to me that she revered herself as their ruler, their protector. Even if it was only in her mind, it was enough to unsettle me.

  It didn’t matter that the Nutcracker Prince had returned. She had taken his place.

  “We shall declare war on the Mouse King,” the Nutcracker interjected, his voice ringing in my ears as he held me tightly. “We’ll need everyone. For all of you have something to offer—not only to us, but to the entirety of Winter Dream.”

  The Nutcracker nodded to two nearby courtiers. They jumped into action, moving to clean the blood from the tiles and dispose of the head where it lingered over the door. One wrapped the body part in a table cloth, hiding the disturbing image from those still in the ballroom. The other man wiped up the drops of blood that bloomed through the white cloth like red crocus through the last snow and dripped onto the polished floors..

  “We’ve waited too long. Gather the war council,” the Nutcracker commanded Lady Irina. “I will take Clara to her room and meet—”

  “No!” I interjected, shaking my head as I tried to remain in place. “Let me help. Please.”

  His blue eyes were surprised as they met mine. Perhaps at home, if such a thing were to occur in our parlor room, it would have been insisted upon for the women of the house to go to their rooms. We were seen as delicate and incapable. But it was clear to me that if Lady Irina was strong—then so was I.

  “Please,” I repeated softly to him. “Let me come with you. Let me help you save Winter Dream.”

  After all, it was why I was here.

  Chapter 21

  “What is she doing here?” Lady Irina asked with a raised brow. Nutcracker shut the door behind us, easing me beside him.

  The pale faces of several war council members stared at me from a large oak table. They were all very worried about the state of their home, and I was sure that my presence was surprising. It was clear none of this was supposed to happen. Winter Dream was so peaceful—and yet, with that peace, there was also conflict.

  “I’m here to help,” I replied. “I want to help.”

  Lady Irina stood by the golden throne at the very end of the table. Her presumed throne. “It would be best for you to retire to your room, Lady Clara. It's where you—”

  “Enough.” Nutcracker raised his free hand to stop her.

  I knew what she was about to say. Where I belonged. As though I had no place at this table. It was a shared thought, as it would seem—from Papa, Lord Yakov, and now Lady Irina.

  I darted my gaze to my Nutcracker, who held my hand tightly in his. His eyes were steady and calm as they slowly slid to Lady Irina.

  “Lady Irina, I implore you. Clara helped to save my life before. I know she can help save Wi
nter Dream.”

  “But, your highness, she knows nothing—”

  “Are we going to argue about the girl, or discuss the more pressing matter at hand?” an older council member interjected, darting his brown eyes between the two of them.

  His words struck a chord with Lady Irina, for she glared at me, and then turned her attention back to the elderly man. I had never heard her so openly ridicule me, but it seemed my perceptions of her hadn’t been far off.

  As I diverted my gaze to the man, I noticed he was short, stoutly, with a curled, white moustache above his lips. He reminded me of my very late great-grandpapa who would give me sticks of sweet candy for my birthdays as a small child. He had been a kindly old man with a tendency to sleep wherever he pleased.

  “There’s been a breach,” he continued, pulling a pipe from his jacket pocket. “It’s clear the Mouse King knows no bounds.”

  Irina gestured toward the golden throne as her eyes latched onto the Nutcracker, silently beckoning him. As if to say, ‘Come, take your rightful place.’

  The Nutcracker cast his eyes from Lady Irina back to the short, stoutly man with the pipe, and nodded.

  “More than a breach,” the Nutcracker replied. He ignored the throne and Lady Irina to stand by the table with the rest of the council. “This is clearly an act of war.”

  War. The memories of my brother and his friends mimicking their attacks in the front parlor filled my mind. There was nothing playful about this.

  “And what shall we do about this?” Lady Irina asked as she raised her brow. “You are the leader of us all, your highness. What will you have us do to protect Winter Dream?”

  The Nutcracker’s face was stoic as he looked over the gathered council members, both men and women from the different lands. All of them dressed so colorfully for the party, and now, here they were, discussing a declaration of war against the Mouse King. They were all awaiting his command. He met their gazes head on, the tension in his shoulders showing the great weight of his responsibility to them.

  “I want to know who that man was,” the Nutcracker said. His voice was even, controlled, but I caught the measured layer of grief within it. “I want his family made aware. Find out where he was, and what he was doing. When he went missing and who he was last seen with. I want a full report as soon as it’s available.” He darted his gaze between the members.

  “It may tell us where he was taken and how the Mouse King or his spies were able to slip into the palace without one of the guards seeing.”

  “I believe a family member is identifying the body as we speak,” a woman with magenta hair and laugh lines at the corners of her eyes said. “I’ll have a courier take them to a comfortable room so I may speak to them myself after the council retires.”

  There was no smile on her face now—just raw determination and the kind of fury I’ve only see on my papa’s face before. Once, a long while ago, a guest had insulted him in front of his guests at our home. It was an accusation, and an outlandish one at that, but it had been enough to humiliate my papa, and caused him to be quite angry.

  The violation and attack on a guard had been an insult to this woman, and I understood her fury. It was justified.

  “Good,” the Nutcracker replied. “I’d like a chance to speak to the family myself after I see the report.”

  The woman with the magenta hair nodded as she waved her own courtier off. I presumed it was to be sure the family was being taken care of.

  “We will need to ready our subjects for another possible attack. This won’t be the last we see of the mice or their king. Their message was clear.” The Nutcracker squeezed my hand gently as he traced his other finger over the wood of the table.

  “As for tonight, I want guards keeping post and walking the perimeter in groups of two. Perhaps even three, if necessary. And they should change out every four hours. The safety of our people is our main priority. What happened here will not happen again. Not while I’m the prince of Winter Dream.” His words were smooth and thoughtful.

  It was as though the Nutcracker had always been destined to rule.

  “Tomorrow morning,” he continued. “I want to meet with all the soldiers to discuss our plan.”

  “Our plan?” Lady Irina asked, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Your highness, your subjects are artists and dreamers. Even the soldiers have never been led into a real war before.”

  “We’ll do what we must,” he replied. “We all know what is at stake.”

  Their lives. All of Winter Dream.

  I bit the inside of my cheek as I looked between the two. Perhaps something Fritz had done with his soldiers could be helpful. I went over my memories, one by one, hoping to find something . . . anything.

  Fritz used to steal my dolls and tie them up with papa’s cravats. The spectacle would pull me from my room, with hopes of saving them from whatever horrible fate Fritz had in store for them. And somehow, it was always I who was shot at with little toy bullets. A trap.

  “A trap!” I exclaimed. “We could set a trap.”

  “A great, big mouse trap?” Lady Irina laughed, pressing her fingers against her lips. “How original.”

  My stomach tightened with red hot anger as I gazed from the Nutcracker to her.

  “Yes, a great mouse trap of sorts,” I snapped.

  The room tittered, but the Nutcracker looked thoughtful as he considered my words. I trusted him to give me a chance.

  “Go on, Clara.” His tone was even and it quieted the room, but I saw the pride alight in his eyes.

  “My brother Fritz used to trick me with my dolls when I was younger. He would tie them up and leave them in the hall. And when I would come to get them, he and his friends would shoot—”

  Lady Irina’s piercing laughter rang in the air.

  “So a child’s trick is to work on the Mouse King?” Her voice was painstakingly sweet. As I looked to her, I saw her large, mocking smile. Taunting me.

  “Let her speak!” the elderly man said, glaring at Lady Irina. My tongue felt suddenly dry as I tried to find my words. I wouldn’t allow her to intimidate me. It was clear she didn’t approve of my being here. But I deserved to be here. I had earned my place.

  “It’s not as though traps haven’t worked on adults in my world,” I explained. “They are mice, aren’t they? One could leave cheese scattered about.”

  “Cheese,” the man said, pressing his pipe to his lips. “I don’t believe the mice crave cheese, my dear. They desire something more of flesh and blood.”

  “It’s child’s play, truly,” she intoned, slamming her fists against the table. It was clear she felt as though she were losing control. Perhaps that's all she desired; control over the Nutcracker and Winter Dream. And I threatened that.

  “I’m not quite certain you understand the severity of this situation, Lady Clara,” she sneered. “Perhaps it’s best that you leave now.”

  The corner of her lip lifted with her eyebrow in a look so smug I found myself taking a step toward her challenge.

  “I won’t,” I shot back angrily. “I won’t just go back to my room silently. I’m here to save Winter Dream. And to save the Nutcracker. I will not turn my back on both of them now. I’ve been told what to do my whole life. I may have to follow rules back in my world, but not here—not now. Not you nor a Mouse King will stop me.”

  I had never allowed myself to become so openly angry before. I had been taught to hold my feelings in. But here, with the Nutcracker, in Winter Dream, I had changed.

  “If we could set traps around the grounds…” I tried again.

  “Cheese is not the answer, Lady Clara,” Lady Irina retorted, darting her eyes to the man beside her.

  “Then we find the answer as to what will,” I replied. If it meant blood, I’d be willing to spill my own to lure them in. If it meant saving Winter Dream, I would do it.

  The Nutcracker spoke at last. “We set up a trap and ambush them.” His gaze was over our heads, but his thoughts
played over his face. “Capture and kill as many as we can, before any more of my subjects unnecessarily die. And I’ll place myself there...”

  “That won’t work,” I interjected. “The Mouse King will know it’s a trap if you’re there. But me…” If I placed myself there instead, at least I knew the Mouse King would come. If it meant hurting the Nutcracker in some way, the Mouse King had to know getting to me would be the easiest way.

  “I’m not going to use you as bait,” the Nutcracker said, shaking his head.

  “I’m volunteering,” I corrected. “I know that I’ll be safe. You’ll be nearby and your guards.” I knew I could trust him and his men to save me from the Mouse King if need be.

  “It seems like a plan worth trying,” the short, stoutly man said with a nod as he released a puff of smoke.

  “A trap, of sorts,” the Nutcracker said thoughtfully, as though he were pondering the idea. As he turned his gaze to me, I could see the gratitude lingering just on the surface of his blue eyes.

  “A trap, then,” a council woman said with a nod. “Do we all agree?”

  A unanimous ‘aye’ confirmed our plan of attack. A surge of relief and pride filled me as I heard their voices. The Nutcracker squeezed my hand and brushed his thumb over my knuckles.

  “Send the guards out immediately,” the Nutcracker reiterated, turning his attention to a taller man with brown hair pulled back against the nape of his neck. The man bowed and turned on his heel, hurrying from the room.

  “And as for me?” Lady Irina asked, rising from her chair. “What would you have me do?” I wondered if the Nutcracker could hear the faint hint of mockery in her tone. Perhaps he had. He darted his blue gaze to her as he stiffened.

  “You and I shall meet tomorrow to discuss the rest of these war plans,” the Nutcracker replied. “With Lady Clara.”