Winterdream

by Chantal Gadoury

  Her eyes sharply turned to me, but only for a moment before she nodded. Of course, how could she argue with the ruler of Winter Dream?

  “Excuse us,” the Nutcracker continued. “It’s been quite an evening, and I’d like to escort Clara to her room.”

  He moved his hand to the small of my back and kept his body angled between mine and Lady Irina’s as we left. Despite my victory, I realized I had only won a battle between the two of us. She wanted control, that much I had gathered; and I had effectively taken it from her without consequence.

  None yet, I thought to myself.

  I felt her eyes on us and fought the urge to turn. It was not until the Nutcracker moved to shut the door between us that I finally saw her. Through the crack of space left inches open before clicking shut, I saw the cold look in her eye.

  A flash of red.

  I had made an enemy of Lady Irina, and I knew that in time, I would discover the consequences of my actions. A shiver rolled down my spine. Would I be ready for another confrontation? And how long until I discovered what she truly was, hidden underneath her queen-like facade? I clung to my Nutcracker’s side, suddenly thankful for his warmth.

  Prepare yourself, Clara. The real war starts a dawn.

  Chapter 22

  The Nutcracker closed the door to my room quietly. Neither of us spoke during our walk back, and the silence felt heavy as I turned my back to him. My heart was still pounding from the events that had just unfolded. The dismembered head, the argument with Lady Irina, and. . . the kiss. Our shared kiss. I stood beside the hearth shivering, grateful for the warm flames that came to life as the Nutcracker slid a log onto the red embers.

  His hands were suddenly pulling the combs from my hair, allowing the tumbles of curls to fall around my shoulders. He moved to stand in front of me, his blue eyes watching me carefully. He reached for the tiara and lifted it from the crown of my head. The relief of the weight felt better against my scalp. The tiara clinked against the wood of the table before his hands came to rest on my shoulders.

  “Let’s get you dressed for bed,” he said calmly. When I didn’t move, he pulled my hand into his and squeezed my palm gently. “I’m very proud of you, Clara.”

  “She thinks I’m a fool.”

  “Lady Irina’s opinion of you shouldn’t matter,” he replied, shaking his head. “The only fool in that room was her.”

  “That man…” I whispered. I tried to push the image away from my mind. I tried to think of the Sugarland Forest, of Mother Ginger’s warm embrace, and the evening beside the frozen lake with the Nutcracker.

  “I know,” he replied softly as he turned me carefully.

  I felt his fingers untying the laces on the back of my gown. I probably should have stepped away, insisted that he leave such a task for me or Marzipan, but I knew we had reached a level of familiarity, that I felt no discomfort.

  “I’m sorry, Clara. I’m sorry you. . . saw that.”

  His gaze met mine as he stepped away; the last of the laces loosened enough for my dress to peel away easily. I found myself watching him as he leaned forward toward the hearth again. His movements were determined and fluid as he slid another log onto the hot coals, just as they had been in Mother Ginger’s inn.

  With his back to me, I took the opportunity to allow my dress to fall into a puddle around my feet. Easing on the chemise I had worn before, I slipped it over my head and smoothed it over my legs with my hands. Only as I began to tie my hair back with a loose ribbon, did I see the Nutcracker take a knee before the fire. There was something pained about him… defeated.

  The severed head had caused more than just an uproar; it felt as though it were the beginning of an end.

  “Who. . . do you think it was?” I asked, breaking the deafening silence between us.

  A shiver ran down my spine as I saw the horrified face again, the makeup drawn on the skin almost luridly. It was a message; the Mouse King was coming. And when he did, he’d try to kill the Nutcracker once and for all.

  I lowered myself beside him. Glancing at him from the corner of my eye, I watched his still silhouette; his white hair curled in the front as lines of worry creased on his forehead. His blue gaze met mine. I placed a hand on his hunched shoulders and watched as they relaxed.

  The Nutcracker shifted and slid an arm around my back. His fingers gently caressed my skin.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted softly. Turning his eyes back to the fire, he let out a sigh. “As it stands now, he was merely a pawn . . . the deliverer of a very unfortunate message.”

  “I never knew anyone could do such a thing to someone else.” I relaxed against his side as I began to tremble.

  I craved his touch, and he gave it to me, pulling me fully against him and rubbing his hand down my arm.

  “The Mouse King is quite cruel, Clara,” he said, brushing his free hand through his hair.

  For a long moment, the only sounds surrounding us were of the crackling fire. As I timidly watched him, I braced myself to continue on.

  “I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds, in the meeting with the council,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean for my idea to sound so utterly childish. It was only that Fritz used to play—”

  The Nutcracker turned his gaze to meet mine sharply, and he shook his head.

  “You didn’t overstep any bounds, Clara.” There was sincerity in his soft, blue eyes. “I can only hope you don’t think I’ve overstepped any bounds with you.”

  Surely he meant the kiss. The kiss that had been seen by nearly all the courtiers.

  “You mean the kiss?” I hadn’t meant to speak the words, but they rolled off my tongue without hesitation. The corner of the Nutcracker’s lips turned slightly, releasing a breathy chuckle.

  “I do,” he said with a slow nod. “I apologize.”

  My stomach twisted slightly at his remorse.

  “You’re sorry?” I asked.

  He nodded again, touching my hand. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  “Why did you kiss me?” I asked as I gazed as his fingers interlaced with mine.

  “Would you like me to tell you the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  He thought quietly, hesitating before he answered. “I kissed you because. . . I wished to. Because I harbor feelings for you,” he said, brow raised. “I told you once. . . as we were coming here to the castle. I told you…” he managed to say as he sighed. Turning his gaze back to the fire, he slid his other hand over his knee. “I have a deep fondness for you, Clara.”

  My chin trembled as I tightened my grasp on his. His thumb brushed over the top of my hand. I had to know. I could no longer continue on without knowing the truth. After the dream with Uncle Drosselmeyer, and our shared words on the dance floor. . . I had to be sure.

  As soon as I found my voice again, I asked, “It’s you, isn’t it? Anton?”

  The Nutcracker froze and stared at me. As his eyes grew wide, he turned his chin away from me again. Everything about him was stoic, quiet… thoughtful. He asked if I had wanted the truth, and there it was, laid out for him to finally confess. I was not angry or disappointed in him. How could I be? I only needed to know.

  “I know you are,” I continued, squeezing his hand. “What you said on the dance floor—you are Anton.”

  “To your world. . .” he said, letting out a huff of air.

  “But here?” I asked, shaking my head. I didn’t understand. “Here, you are not?”

  “I’m…” His voice drifted into silence. His blue eyes did not turn to find mine. Instead, he continued to sit quietly.

  “How was it that you were there at the party, but so too was the Nutcracker?”

  He bit his lip before slowly exhaling.

  “Did you not see, Clara? No one else had seen me; no one but you and your Uncle Drosselmeyer.” His words startled me.

  “No one saw you?”

  “Did you not question to yourself once as to why your father never acknowledged that there we
re three of us in the room with Drosselmeyer, and not simply two?”

  “There you two are…”

  I slid my hands to his face, drawing his gaze to meet mine. His lips turned into a soft smile.

  “No one else saw me, Clara, because no one else needed to.”

  “No one…” But the words I needed were lost to me.

  “It was with Drosselmeyer’s magic that I was able to come to your world. That I was able to manifest as I had once been. Before the spell.”

  “Magic?”

  “You of all people know how powerful your Uncle Drosselmeyer’s magic can be, Clara,” he said with a chuckle. “Perhaps you question yourself, but you know . . . you saw his magic.”

  The orbs. The bright, glowing orbs that had circled all around the dancing dolls. Magic. It had all been magic. His magic. These were all things I had suspected, but now that there was validity; so too came the excitement.

  “So, he’s the puppet-master,” I said as my eyes grew wide with realization. “The whole story isn’t a story; it's all true. And you, you’re his apprentice!”

  “I’m both Nutcracker and Anton.”

  “But how did Mother Ginger not know Uncle Drosselmeyer if he was one of those who created this world? She mentioned her husband had known my uncle…?”

  “Not everyone knew him by his name,” he replied. “He never wanted to be known or recognized. He wanted to continue to do what he loved, in a place he loved—to remain in the shadows.”

  The words sunk into me. Winter Dream had been his home. Just as this was the Nutcracker’s home.

  “You came in my dream. You told me to find you,” I explained, lowering my hands away from his cheeks. He took my hands and held them tightly.

  “I did,” he whispered. “I knew I couldn’t tell you everything. But I hoped that little messages from the man you met at the party would stay with you.”

  His blue eyes were bright and full. A warm shiver ran down my spine as his finger traced the palm of my hand.

  “Clara,” he murmured softly. “I kissed you for the same reasons I want to protect you from all of this—because I love you.”

  “You love me?” I stammered.

  “I do. I have since the moment I first met you. The Christmas Eve in your youth. The dream you shared with me, under the falling snow.” The dream. The dream from my childhood. The young boy who had asked me to come with him.

  “Ya tebya lyublyu, Clara.”

  Love. He loved me. My heart began to beat faster as my stomach fluttered to life and his blue gaze searched mine. I was speechless. This was what I had always wanted. What I had always longed for. . .

  He leaned closer slowly, until I could feel his breath crest my ear. “I know. . . I understand that things are not so clear. That there is much to take into account.” His cheek brushed against mine gently. “But I love you, Clara.”

  His hand lifted to cup my other cheek as his thumb brushed over my skin. I stared into his eyes and gave him the slightest nod of encouragement. I wanted him to kiss me. With hazy eyes, he pressed his lips against mine. He tilted my chin up at a new angle and caught my bottom lip between his own. This kiss was different than the one in the ballroom. There was a rush of urgency to it, feverish and hungry.

  My hand moved to his shoulder as I felt myself melting.

  This had been what I wanted . . . dreamed of since I was young. This kiss had been the moment I once daydreamed about as Masha and I imagined our possible futures. I had always wanted to feel warm and loved by the man I wished to marry. As I pressed my lips against his more fervently, I knew I never wanted to be parted from the Nutcracker. From Anton.

  I would do whatever it took to break the curse.

  The warmth of his lips against mine felt comforting and enticing. I wanted more. I needed more from him.

  “Clara,” he whispered against my lips.

  I hummed a soft reply, my eager hands finding the skin revealed between his shirt and trousers and racing along the heated skin of his back. He murmured my name again, this time against my neck, pressing his hands against my sides. I felt him begin to pull away as a soft whimper came from my lips.

  I hadn’t wanted the kiss to end. I wanted to stay there, wrapped in his arms, where I knew I would forever be safe. I wanted to be able to choose this for myself. As I leaned forward again, pressing my lips against his, he began to chuckle. The Nutcracker moved his fingers to my chin, tilting my face upwards for a moment.

  “Clara,” he sighed. “The time for us isn’t now. After we defeat the Mouse King and break the spell . . . there will be endless hours to spend with each other. We will have our time.”

  My heart thumped.

  Time. I was running out of time. I would have to return to Mama and Papa, and to the Viscount. Before I could refute his reply, he pressed a tender kiss against my forehead.

  “You deserve to have all that you desire, Clara,” the Nutcracker whispered against my ear. “And I am determined to give exactly that to you. But not like this. Not tonight.”

  “Alright,” I whispered.

  “Come,” he continued as he slowly rose to his feet. “We both need our rest for tomorrow.” Taking his extended hand, I followed the Nutcracker to the bed and peeled the blankets back.

  Just as I had curled my body into the warmth of the sheets, he situated himself beside me and slid his hand through the trail of my curls.

  “Rest now, Clara,” he whispered into my ear.

  “You won’t disappear into a dream, will you?” I asked softly, grasping onto the lapels of his coat.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll be here when you awake. I promise.”

  Chapter 23

  A soft groan stirred me from my slumber, the weight of the bed shifting as I adjusted myself beneath the warm coverlet. My hand met the smooth fabric of a jacket and the solid form of the person wearing it. Yawning, I opened my eyes slowly, unsurprised to find that Anton had stayed with beside me. His arm curled around my hips, and his nose was close enough to brush against mine.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the length of his broad shoulders and chest, although they were still covered by the jacket he had worn for the party. Nor the way his white curls remained flat on the one side where he had slept. I reached out and brushed a strand of it away from his forehead, and was met by his blue gaze as he opened his eyes.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked with his husky voice, breaking the silence. My cheeks warmed upon discovery. The Nutcracker grinned as his finger brushed over my chin and cheek.

  “Good morning,” he murmured, adjusting his head on the pillow beside me.

  “Good morning,” I responded softly, unsure if I should continue to call him ‘Nutcracker’ or ‘Anton.’ I still had so many unanswered questions. “I feel as though I’ve awoken to another dream,” I confessed softly.

  “This isn’t a dream,” he replied gently.

  “And last night? The gala?”

  Anton exhaled as he glided his finger over my covered shoulder.

  “No,” he replied solemnly. “That wasn’t a dream, either.”

  As I closed my eyes for a moment, I could once again see the severed head of the man before me. It was as clear as if it were sitting in front of me. The pink-stained cheeks had been covered with strange paint, while the lines imitating a puppet were drawn around the mouth. It was meant to be a threat toward the Nutcracker of what was to come. My Nutcracker.

  “We should go find Lady Irina this morning,” he sighed. “I want to go over the reports, and anything that was found about the man’s family. I’m sure preparations for burial will need to be arranged as well.”

  “Do you think he’s here?” I asked as he pushed himself up from the sheets. He took his time in adjusting the collar of his jacket. We both knew who I was referring to. The Mouse King. It felt forbidden to say the name aloud, as if whispering it would invoke his presence.

  “I do think he’s here. He’s waiting for the
right moment to strike.”

  “And the trap?”

  The Nutcracker moved his hand to touch mine and squeezed.

  “We’ll figure everything out together,” he encouraged with a nod. “But I refuse to put you in danger, Clara.” His blue eyes were stern.

  “But then how shall I protect you?” I asked, rising onto my elbows. The Nutcracker gave me a small grin.

  “As you already have,” he said with a smirk. “With a slipper, a sword, and your bravery.”

  I found myself smiling in response.

  “I should like to keep my slippers this time,” I said with a laugh.

  “I’ll leave you to dress, then,” he murmured. Turning on his heel, he walked to our shared adjoining door. As soon as he disappeared, I rose from the bed and explored the small closet that Marzipan had pulled out clothing from the day before.

  I found a soft plaid, silk dress, the colors a soft shade of peach and cream. Delicate ruffles laid on the shoulders and met in the middle of the dress. It was simple, but beautiful, and reminded me of one of my favorite day dresses from home. After donning the slippers Mother Ginger had given me, I tried to ignore the tangled mess of my hair. I pulled back my curls with a black ribbon I had found in a nearby drawer and tied back, satisfied with my appearance.

  As I tiptoed from my doorway, my gaze wandered up and down the length of the corridor. Thankfully, none of the courtiers or servants were walking by as they had been the day before. I moved as gracefully and quietly as I could until I reached one of the many balconies that overlooked the main foyer room below.

  As I peered over the ledge, I could see a gathering of servants cleaning up the decorations and sweeping the floors. Several courtiers, dressed in lavish gowns and suits, were gathered around Lady Irina. She stood in the middle of the room, watching everything and everyone. Her blonde hair was folded into a tight bun, but adorned with a spectacular tiara. Out of the courtiers, she was the easiest to find; her gown was a shiny cream, but plain.

  Many soldiers lined the walls toward the main entrance; they all appeared to be awaiting orders from her. I saw the corners of her lips curl into a large smile as the Nutcracker—Anton—approached her. He had changed into a new jacket—a wine color with silver embellishments.