His face was stained with sweat and droplets of blood.
“Let her go, Irina,” he warned softly as he came into the room. She smiled and shifted me away from the wall, twisting my arms behind my back. I grimaced at the jolting pain.
“And what will you do, Nutcracker?” Irina taunted. “What will you do to save her?”
“Don’t,” I said, shaking my head as he slid his blue gaze to mine. I didn’t want him to do anything reckless, a move that might put him at risk.
Irina hissed at me, her eyes now scorching red. The same color as the mice’s eyes. The Nutcracker studied her as he slowly slid his sword to the floor.
“It’s not her you want, Irina. You’re here for me; that’s clear. You wanted my attention, and you have it.”
“I don’t want you at all,” she snarled. “I just want you and this girl. . . gone.”
“Let me take her back to her world, then,” he said quickly, reaching a hand out for me. “Let Clara return to her life. And then you can have me.”
“What?” I cried, shaking my head again. “No! Anton, please!”
He eased closer; his hand was just inches away from my arm. Irina watched us with her cold, calculating eyes.
“Just let me take Clara home,” he said.
“I don’t know…” she began, raising her brow. Her grip on my arms seemed to ease for a moment before she dug her nails hard into my flesh. “I don’t know what sort of fool you take me for… but my answer is no.”
Suddenly, a mouse darted from the foyer, barreling viciously toward Anton. I screamed as he quickly grabbed his sword from the floor and gripped its furry shoulders. Its eyes were wild with bloodlust, its teeth sharp and coated in someone’s thick, red blood. I watched as the Nutcracker plunged his sword into the mouse’s throat. As he turned back to peer at the two of us, more specks of blood coated his skin and shirt.
“Let her go,” he commanded again. This time, he held his sword out toward her.
“I’d rather not, Nutcracker,” Irina said with a sneer. She pushed past him, tugging me along behind her. My arms stung with pain as she continued to hold them behind my back.
She dragged me out into the foyer and toward the wide staircase that overlooked the entry. A group of feasting mice tore at the bodies of dead courtiers and guards, as if they had not eaten in days. I closed my eyes as I tried to free myself from her grasp.
“Irina,” the Nutcracker’s voice bellowed from behind.
I could hear his boots against the marble floor as he ran after us. Turning to glance over my shoulder, I watched as claws reached for him, grabbing at his legs and boots. He swung his sword, fighting through the tangle of mice.
One leapt through the air, knocking Anton down onto the floor with a loud thump. I screamed his name before Irina turned to look for herself. She twisted my arm in her grasp, grinning wildly. Her perfectly coiffed hair had started to come loose from beneath the tiara she wore, strands stuck to her forehead and the sides of her face.
“This is becoming too easy,” she purred in my ear. “I knew he wouldn’t go down without a fight, but. . . it seems I might just win in the end.”
“No!” I shouted as I jerked one of my arms free from her grasp. Her nails dug further into my other wrist, and I cried out.
“Perhaps I should tell you the real story of the Mouse King,” she said with a smile as she yanked me violently up the stairs. I clung to the railing, trying to stay in place. But her strength was overpowering.
The sound of clashing metal echoed in my ears as more and more guards and courtiers began to fight. As I turned my gaze back to Anton, I saw him pushing the lifeless body of a mouse off of him. Our eyes met as he began to run for the steps. It seemed no mouse would be his match.
“Clara!” he called after me.
“Perhaps he wants to hear this, too!” Irina said with a smile as we reached the landing.
Anton lunged for her, but Irina pushed me in front of her. She twisted my arm again, this time sending deep, throbbing jolts of pain throughout my body. As she lifted her free hand, she exposed a jewel-gilded dagger to him. The steel edge felt like ice as she brushed it over my throat. A small whimper escaped my lips.
Irina laughed as she took a step toward him, bringing me with her. Anton gasped, stopping dead in his tracks.
“Do you remember this dagger?” she asked Anton, her voice filled with a sick glee.
To me, it appeared to be like any other dagger in the world. Silver, sleek, professionally crafted, and encrusted with jewels. But Anton remained still as he watched her, waiting for what was to come. I could not read his mind, but I could tell by his expression that the dagger meant much more than a decorative item stored above a mantle.
“It’s not possible,” he breathed. “How do you—”
“Anything is possible!” she cackled. “It took some time, but with some new friends and a few spells of my own, I was able to track it down.”
What was she talking about? My wildly beating heart began to accelerate in my chest.
“Stop,” Anton demanded.
“Tell me, sweet Nutcracker, why a kind king would need a dagger with the power to slice through any living thing?”
An enchanted dagger. A weapon that could pierce through my Nutcracker. I understood his fear and fallen expression then, because it became my own. His life now hung in the balance. Irina had the upper hand.
“Shall I begin the tale now? You know it so well, don’t you?” she taunted him. He remained quiet, watching her—watching me.
“There was a kind and good king,” Irina began. “He was well-loved by all of his people. He ruled a great land, filled with vast wealth, beauty, and magic. Just as he and his apprentice had designed.”
I tried to pull my arm away again, hoping that the story would act as a distraction, but she twisted my arm up at an odd angle. I felt the joint in my shoulder pop against the pressure. I squeezed my eyes shut as I cried out.
“Stop!” Anton yelled, taking a step forward.
“One day,” she hissed, continuing on. “One day, that kind and good king was placed under a spell. A spell created by—” Her lips curled as she raised her brow, “—me.”
She pressed the dagger closer to my skin. The blade bit into me, and I winced. Was this how I was going to die?
“I wanted Winter Dream all for my own. There was so much potential for this land to be more. I placed a spell on the king and fed him lies on who had done the horrible deed. His apprentice—the puppet-master.”
It all began to make more sense. Irina had cursed the king; changed him into what he was now—the Mouse King. But no one had known where he had gone. He had simply disappeared. How could they—the people of Winter Dream—ever suspect that the rat was their sire?
“He chose to seek revenge against the man who he thought had cursed him. So, when the old king saw his opportunity, he took it… and cursed you to punish his apprentice.”
“What’s done is done now,” Anton said, shaking his head. “Let Clara go, Irina. Your battle is with me, not her. If you want me, here I am.”
“Oh, foolish, foolish Nutcracker. Don’t you see? There’s only one thing I want.”
I could hear her haughty laughter against my ear. “I’ve only ever wanted Winter Dream. In the end, I plan to destroy not only the Mouse King, but you as well.”
“Here I am, then,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “A piece to your plan. Destroy me. Kill me. You have the king’s dagger. But let Clara go.”
“Why?” she taunted as she pressed the edge of the dagger into my skin. “Why make this so easy?”
I tried to gulp in air, afraid to breathe lest the sharp edge bite further into my flesh. I was scared. Perhaps I would die and never comfort Marzipan, or see Mother Ginger again. Perhaps I’d never see my family again. I would never see Uncle Drosselmeyer. My eyes roamed over the Anton’s face as I realized, with an ache in my heart, that there was a good chance I’d never see his smile o
r hold his hand again.
“I could make this fun, Nutcracker,” she laughed as she moved the dagger to my shoulder blade, digging the point into my skin. “I could pierce her here…”
Before she broke skin, the Anton took a step forward.
“Stop this, Irina,” he commanded. “Don’t waste this moment on torturing her.”
He lowered his sword to the floor and pulled away his dark blue jacket. I watched as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his wood-like skin.
“I cannot give you Winter Dream,” he began. “It’s not mine to give. But I can give you me. As long as you promise to let Clara go.”
“No, Anton,” I urged. “You have to fight for Winter Dream. You can still win.”
I felt Irina’s grip on me tighten as her voice raised in pitch; it was suddenly sweet and coaxing.
“Of course, your highness,” she replied. “I’ll let Clara go...”
I didn’t know if I could believe her. A part of me didn’t want to. My body trembled at the sound of her words.
“Perhaps it would be more thrilling to have her watch you die,” she continued, turning her gaze down to me.
Her eyes were cruel and decisive; as if she were planning her next move. His eyes were focused and calm as he lifted them, meeting mine for only a moment. He slowly nodded as he took a step forward. And then another. And another. With each step, I felt the dagger dig into my skin more and more. Until his hand reached for her wrist and tilted the dagger toward his chest.
I didn’t understand. How could he give up everything—all of Winter Dream—just for me?
“Anton…” I gasped, shaking my head as I reached out for him.
Irina pushed me aside with a laugh. I landed on the marble floor, bracing myself with the palms of my hands and knees. As I turned my chin, I watched as she slid her arm around his waist, drawing him closer against her. The dagger glittered in the light as she grazed it against the line of buttons on his shirt.
With his chest exposed, she slid the tip along the curve of his chest. A hissing sound came from the dagger as she dragged it slowly from the tip of his collar down to his stomach. He winced, and his mouth opened in pain.
“Stop!” I screamed. “Stop!”
I didn’t care if I drew the attention from the mice and men battling just below us. It would hardly matter, not when their voices were so much louder than mine. No one would come for us. No one would come to save me or Anton.
“Shall I allow the both of you your sickeningly sweet goodbyes?” She sneered, darting her gaze from him to me.
“Please,” I begged as I pushed myself back to my feet. Turning behind him, Irina slid the dagger into place against his throat, just as she had with me, and raised her brow.
“Come, dearest Clara,” she taunted. “Come say goodbye to your Nutcracker, then.”
My chin trembled as I tried to swallow back my tears. He stood so still, despite the deep, dark line etched into his wooden chest. The wound glowed, as though fire had scorched through him. My Nutcracker.
My Anton.
“Clara,” he murmured. His voice was so quiet, his eyes full of regret and pain. “You must go. Go back…”
“No...” I said softly, shaking my head. My eyes began to fill with fearful tears. I would have much rather given my life to save him. I took a step closer as my hand reached out for his.
“Don’t be afraid, Clara,” he continued. “All will be well.”
I didn’t know if he was trying to be brave for me or for himself. But I knew that, as long as Irina had that dagger against his neck, nothing would be well. No one would come out of Winter Dream alive.
“I love you,” he murmured. “Remember that I love you.”
My heart jumped, and I felt very dizzy. But I knew—without a doubt—that I loved him too. Perhaps I hadn’t always known, but suddenly, it was as if I had always loved him.
“Enough,” Irina interrupted, shaking her head. “I’ve heard enough.”
“I certainly didn’t ask you to listen,” he replied curtly.
“Still trying to get the last word in, even to the end,” Irina replied, smirking. “You should listen to your prince, dearest Clara. I would run while you can. For I won’t be so merciful if I catch you myself again.”
I couldn’t just leave him. I couldn’t. But his focus dashed beyond my shoulder. He was silently bidding me to go. But go where? How could I ever return home? How could I ever face my Uncle Drosselmeyer again? I had been sent here to save him.
“Come, Nutcracker,” she began, turning toward the rest of the staircase. “It’s not good for your men to see you in such a state. I’d prefer they fight a bit more for their honor before I release the rest of the Mouse King’s men.”
Anton looked to me once more, his eyes darting this time to the floor, where his sword lay neglected. I slid my gaze to the sword and understood. This was our only hope—our only chance to destroy Irina before she killed him. Or me.
I took a step back, appearing to turn the other way. To do just as she and the Nutcracker had told me to do. To leave. As I walked by the fallen sword, I slowly knelt and grabbed the handle, drawing it in front of me, hiding it from sight.
“You won’t win,” I called out, turning back around again as I slid the sword behind my back. “You may think you will, Lady Irina,” I continued. “But you won’t.”
“Oh?” she asked, turning. Irina released Anton’s shoulders for a moment as she lifted the dagger in my direction. I watched as she carefully took a step away from him. I could feel his eyes on me.
“Perhaps you are as stupid you look. I warned you I wouldn’t be merciful the second time around.”
“No need,” I sneered. “I don’t need your mercy.”
I did not hesitate.
With a breath, I ran toward Irina and lifted the sword high enough to push into her stomach. It took only a moment. In a fluid movement, Anton snatched the enchanted dagger from her grasp and plunged it deeply into her heart. A twisted scream bellowed from her lips as her fingers curled into claws around the hilt.
I yanked the sword from her gut with the last of my strength. With it came dark red blood. It spread quickly, staining the perfection of her gown. The wound bloomed with it, and I watched as her transformed hands went from her stomach to her face. Her fingers slid up to her cheeks, and she began to pull at her pale skin, peeling it away. Just underneath her pale complexion, a shadow of dark fur lingered.
A mouse. Irina had been a mouse?
Chapter 27
As Irina’s fake flesh peeled away completely, I was overwhelmed by the stench of her body. It explained her necessary perfumes, which were too sickly sweet on their own without adding to the smell of rot and filth. How long had she been hiding in Irina’s skin? I could only guess that magic had aided her. Black magic, as Hyacinth had said.
“You fools,” she managed as blood pooled from her lips. “He’ll kill you.”
Anton took no time in twisting the handle of the dagger firmly, grunting as he pushed her back against the marble railing. Her red eyes widened as she began to wail from the pain. Again, he twisted, plunging the enchanted dagger deeper into her until she slumped limply against the wall.
She was a pitiful thing now. Her dark fur, which was now matted and caked in blood, did not compare to the full head of blonde hair she once had. And her face, which had been stolen from the real Irina, was as hideous as any other rodent. A long nose, beady red eyes, and two flesh-colored ears on the top of her head. The same place where her tiara once sat.
Finally, Anton released the dagger, leaving it embedded in her chest.
“Anton,” I called out, reaching for him. He turned and darted toward me. Exhaustion and fear wore on his features as he embraced me.
“Clara,” he said, his voice like a sigh. He held me tightly against him for a moment before he pulled away and tilted his chin toward the main doors. The fight still raged, but it appeared that the mice were being driven back. The
win was in the favor of the many guards and courtiers, who had taken up their own weapons.
“Come, I have to get you home.”
“But… the Mouse King. The curse. We have to break the spell,” I urged, shaking my head. “This cannot be for naught.”
“It isn’t for naught,” he replied. “Not if I get you back home safely. Back to where you belong.”
“I belong with you,” I said, holding tightly to his hands. “I belong here, in Winter Dream. With you. Just as you said.”
“I can’t keep you safe here,” Anton said urgently. “If you return home, you’ll have the chance to grow up and grow old in your own world, with your parents. With—”
“If you say Lord Yakov—” I began, but his hand slid to cup my cheek, and I bit my tongue.
“Yes, even with Lord Yakov. They can provide a life. . . a happy, safe life…Winter Dream is not safe for you. I thought it might be, but it’s not. And I cannot protect you, Clara.”
I turned my cheek away, taking a step back from him.
“Even my world cannot guarantee me a happy and safe life. You know that. I was sent here to help you defeat the Mouse King,” I said, hoping to remind him of my duty. “I’m not leaving Winter Dream without doing what I was meant to do.”
He watched me carefully as I shook my head again. “It isn’t just me. Everyone deserves a chance to be happy, Anton. ”
The Nutcracker lifted my hand into his and pressed a kiss against my knuckles. As he raised his gaze to meet mine, he murmured, “I don’t deserve you, Clara.”
“You do,” I responded quickly. “Now come… I know where he’ll be.”
“Who?” he asked, raising a brow curiously.
“The Mouse King,” I replied as I grasped his hand and pulled him through the fighting.
The sword I had just used to kill Irina was still firmly in my hand. I thought I might need it, just in case.
I led him through the long hallway toward the doors of the garden. It seemed even the battle had moved from the main foyer, out into the palace grounds. The bodies of the mice and courtiers were sprawled in their own blood. So many were still fighting. So many hadn’t given up, despite being faced by the large, red-eyed mice. Anton paused for a moment, picking up a lone sword left in a large puddle of blood. I expected that as we traveled closer and closer to the Mouse King’s secret garden, we’d find more and more trails of blood.
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