“Where are we going?” Anton asked as I pulled him through the grove of pine trees.
I didn’t respond. I tried to remain focused on the path at hand.
“Clara!” he tried again, tugging at my hand. His movement slowed my pace. We couldn’t afford to waste any more time. We had to find the Mouse King. We had to defeat him once and for all. The surviving people of Winter Dream deserved that.
“We’re going to his garden,” I said. “The king’s garden, remember?”
“What makes you think he’ll be there?”
“Because it’s his garden,” I insisted, tugging at his hand again. Instead, Anton held back.
“Clara, I can’t let you just . . . walk in there and . . .”
“I came here to defeat the Mouse King, did I not? Wasn’t this supposed to be the plan all along? I was to set you free. I was to. . .” fall in love with you. My cheeks warmed as I bit my lip again. His blue eyes searched my face as he lifted his hand to cup my cheek.
“My dear Clara,” he said, leaning his forehead against mine.
“This is for them,” I continued. “Marzipan. Mother Ginger. Macaron…”
After a moment, he pulled away and looked into my eyes. There was fear and longing in the surface of his gaze. But deeper still were determination and love.
“Together, then,” he repeated softly.
Turning on my heel, I grabbed his hand again and began to pull him through the tall canopies of bushes and flowers, until the hidden stone wall appeared in the distance. A snow-white owl hovered just within the darkened archway.
Uncle Drosselmeyer.
I knew then that I was in the right place. I knew he was there for a reason.
“There,” I said as I lifted my finger, pointing to the door. Anton stood beside me and gazed at the wall. As he looked on, he stood straighter and yielded his sword in the forefront.
“Stay behind me,” he commanded. “Keep your sword at the ready.”
I nodded, lifting the gleaming steel up. The Nutcracker took the first step toward the door, extending his hand out from behind him; an offering for me to take. I grasped onto it and held on tight. He was the first to step into the threshold, and moved within the darkened tunnel. The only sound echoing around us was of our shoes crunching on dead leaves and vines.
My entire body trembled from fear.
In the distance, I could still hear the scattered screams of the courtiers, and squeals of the red-eyed mice coming from inside the castle. Their courage urged me onward.
“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, squeezing my hand with his.
As we emerged on the other side, the garden was just as we had left it. Vines were still twisted and growing along the wall and stone floor. Everything was so still, so quiet. Anton paused, looking around the tangled garden. In the distance, I could make out the shadow of the statue of the long-ago king. The Mouse King.
Suddenly, the white owl cooed softly, flew overhead, and landed just on the stone shoulder of the statue. Its black gaze peered darkly at the two of us, watching as we each took a step back. And then a glimmer flashed over its eye, causing me to pause.
“It feels fitting that we would meet here,” a voice interrupted, causing the both of us to turn abruptly.
There, just lurking in the shadows, stood the Mouse King. He still wore the deep, royal blue coat, though the black and white fur was soaked with blood. Upon his head still lingered the twisted, golden crown.
“Oh, your Majesty,” Anton drawled theatrically, lifting his sword. “A thousand apologies. We were hoping you would be dead already.”
The Mouse King frowned.
“Not before I’d have the opportunity to kill you,” he quipped angrily, raising his own crooked sword.
The steel glinted as the King suddenly moved closer. The owl screeched a sound of warning, causing Anton to take a step back before the Mouse King swung his sword in the darkness.
“If you could just stand still. . . Nutcracker.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he retorted breathlessly.
Anton guided me back toward the statue, giving me a sign to stay. I shook my head as my chin trembled with fear. I lifted my sword.
“No,” I whispered. “I’m not leaving you.” There was no one here to help us; I couldn’t just leave him alone to face the Mouse King. We had to do this together.
“Brought your girl with you, Nutcracker?” the Mouse King taunted with a cackle. “Were you too afraid to come alone?”
“No need to be so insulting, you buffoon. She’s far braver than you and I combined. Recall it was her who left you so indisposed back in the parlor room?”
The Mouse King snarled as his sword landed hard on the Nutcracker’s. It glanced off and slid against Anton’s arm. A sharp cry pierced the darkness. I took a step toward him and the Mouse King.
“Yes, girly,” the Mouse beckoned. “Come, come and fight me. You brave little fool.”
The Mouse King didn’t wait to swing his sword against mine, but I stood firm; the clashing metal rang in my ears.
“I’m not a fool,” I snapped as I swung back with all of my strength. I tried to aim for his gut, but missed entirely. The tip of my sword seemed only to graze the air.
“You have such lazy, horrible form,” the Mouse King taunted me. “So typical for a girl.”
I felt my face warm with anger as I glowered at him.
“For being a king,” Anton retorted, “you have horrible manners.”
The Mouse King’s red eyes turned to him as his large mouth parted, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. He was so unlike his scouts, and yet, even more terrifying. A rustling ran by the two of us, and Anton swung into the darkness. There was nothing there.
“Come, come, Nutcracker. I expected much more from you.”
“I should have set a trap large enough for you from the very start,” he gasped as he once again swung. A searing roar coming from the Mouse King pierced the sky. As Anton lifted his sword, I could make out the tip of the King’s tail.
The Mouse King turned, glaring between the two of us.
“Mark my words, you folly of a prince! I will have your head on a pike before the night is over. You will die a miserable death, and then I will tear into the flesh of your girl and devour every inch of her!” His voice bellowed loudly with an anger I had not heard before. It was pure rage that set him on his courage against Anton.
Irina had wanted Winter Dream. But the Mouse King wanted carnage—he wanted death.
“Not if I can help it, you unfortunate piglet,” Anton retorted, swinging his sword again.
Another miss. He swung again. Another clash against the stone path. The sound of steel whizzed by my ears as a glimmer of a metal object flew through the air. Just above, I saw the white owl drop the jeweled dagger that the Nutcracker had driven into Irina’s chest merely moments ago, by my feet. I stared at it for a moment more before I realized what this meant.
The king’s dagger! Perhaps it was a way to defeat the Mouse King once and for all. To his use own magic against him. I lowered the Nutcracker’s sword and took the dagger instead. Taking a step into the darkness, I tried to narrow my eyes, to see through the haze of nothing.
“Girly,” the Mouse King beckoned near my ear. “I’m right here.”
I turned on my heel, spinning round and round as his voice trailed after me.
“Keep up, Clara. Come. . . come!”
I reached my hand out, feeling the graze of something warm and shoved the dagger toward it. This time, the piercing cry that bellowed around me belonged to Anton. My body went rigid and cold. The dagger fell from my hand, but I realized it was too late. It was embedded in Anton’s chest. I had just stabbed. . .
My eyes were blinded by tears as I reached to touch any part of him I could hold.
“No!” I screamed. “Anton!”
Hope. My hope was being transformed into the lines of blood leaving his body and coating the stone floor.
�
�C-Clara,” he choked, lifting his trembling hand to my cheek. “Clara…”
“No… no…” I gasped, shaking my head. “Please. . . get up, Anton. Get up. I didn’t know… I didn’t… ”
I had stabbed him with the king’s dagger. How had I not seen? Not known? It was dark and the Mouse King had been behind me, taunting me. I hadn’t seen Anton.
“Please,” I begged. I leaned over him, bracing myself carefully as I pressed my lips gently against his. His blue eyes were growing duller; less vibrant and alive.
I couldn’t bear it.
“I love you,” I whispered, hoping it would be enough to save him; to break the spell. But as I lifted my head, I saw his sad blue eyes watching me.
“It’s alright,” he murmured as he lifted his hand to the dagger. His wooden chest hissed at the scorching heat. I had stabbed him right in the heart.
I would never be able to forgive myself.
“Pull it… out…” he managed, gasping.
With tears rolling down my cheeks, I gripped the handle and did as he asked. With each inch, I watched in horror as my Nutcracker slowly transformed into the doll he had once been. He groaned as his body shrunk, twisted and froze into the small, wooden being he had been cursed to endure. I had failed. A sob tore through my throat as I pushed my fists into the stone floor.
“It’s a shame what happened to your Nutcracker, girl,” the Mouse King snarled as he lifted his crooked sword up into the air. He used the edge of his coat to clean the blood from the edge as if I were a threat unworthy of his blade.
“But I can’t deny just how pleasing it was to see you finish the deed.”
I wanted to kill him. I knew I had to. There was still a chance that I could save Winter Dream; to save everything Anton had tried so hard to keep safe. Moving my gaze away from the wooden doll, I saw the sword Anton had been using glisten in the darkness. I grabbed it quickly, pushing myself up to my feet.
With trembling hands, I lifted the sword up in front of me.
“You’re the only one I feel sorry for,” I gasped, keeping Anton’s sword steady in my hands. “To have once been a great king, only to have your entire kingdom stolen from you. But not from the puppet-master—”
“It was his fault that harlot knew that spell in the first place,” he quipped angrily.
“She was a mouse,” I replied, furious. “Just like you!”
The Mouse King lifted his lip and snarled in response.
“No matter. Thanks to the foolish and stupid Nutcracker, now she’s gone too,” he remarked. He moved his sword to face him, tracing a long nail over the edge. I gazed down to my feet, where Anton’s unmoving figure lingered. How I wanted to pick him up; how I wanted to press my lips against his—to make him real again. But I knew I had to do this for him. I had to break the spell. I had to defeat the Mouse King and save Winter Dream.
“Stop your blubbering, girly,” the Mouse King taunted, sounding more agitated than before.
Blinking, I set another stream of tears to cascade down my cheeks. I knew I had to be strong. I would have to do this alone.
I lifted the sword again and glared at him. “Come,” I beckoned. “Come and get me.”
The Mouse King cackled and slid his sword to point and face me.
“I’ll try to make sure it’s not too painful for you.”
My heart was filled with pain; my eyes were blinded by tears, but with both hands, I swung the Nutcracker’s sword as hard as I could, just as he had shown me only hours before. In the span of time that passed, I saw Anton’s face in my mind—the way he had smiled at me in the sleigh. How he had carried me through the snow in the Sugarland Forest and the sweetness of his lips as he kissed me in the warm fire’s glow.
My heart ached.
The sound of the owl’s shrill rang in my ears as the Mouse King roared and ran toward me. His mouth was wide open, his teeth glinting as he lurched for me. His sword was poised over his head.
‘Clara,’ Uncle Drosselmeyer’s voice filled my mind as I stood, trembling and waiting.
‘Moya devushka, look with your heart. Look with your mind.’
I thought of Hyacinth and the white rose etched upon the palm of my hand. She had repeated the same words as she inscribed the image of the rose onto my skin. I was to look with hope. I had to believe—not only in the Nutcracker and Winter Dream, but myself.
‘Do not fear,’ Uncle Drosselmeyer continued. ‘Aim swift and true.’
Glancing down at my hand, I felt the strange surge of strength against my aching heart; it was hope.
I knew as long as I killed the Mouse King, Winter Dream would be saved. People like Marzipan and Rumtopf would never have to fear losing their loved ones again. They would be alright. An image of them lying together, sleeping peacefully, flashed before me. I wanted the people of Winter Dream to live in happiness.
‘Do not fear.’
The words echoed again and again, until I saw the Nutcracker—Anton’s face from my memory.
‘Together,’ he murmured.
“Together,” I whispered.
My sword slid into the Mouse King as his fell over my hip, grazing through the layers of fabric. He froze as his small claws reached out, grabbing aimlessly at the weapon rammed in his chest. No matter how much he tried to tug the sword free, it remained there. With all of my might, I pushed forward, only pausing mere feet away from his statue.
“Do it then, girl. Do it,” he hissed; his eyes were wide. Droplets of blood trickled from his mouth.
“I loved him,” I murmured softly. “I loved him and I’m doing this for him.” I took a hold of the handle and twisted.
He roared again. With another agonizing twist, I pushed the sword through until the Mouse King slumped back against the stone. I waited to make sure he didn’t move again, and dashed back to where I had left the nutcracker on the ground. My hands trembled as I knelt to pick him up.
“Nutcracker,” I said as I began to sob. The white owl cooed as it flew overhead, watching the two of us. “Anton, I’m so sorry.”
‘It’s done now, moya devushka.’
“But I failed. I failed him…” I gasped as tears trickled down my cheeks. “I . . .” Peering back down at my hands, the nutcracker had vanished.
“N-Nutcracker?” I rose onto my feet, glancing all around me. Where had he gone?
‘It’s done now,’ Uncle Drosselmeyer repeated again, more sternly than before. Like in any dream, I began to feel the pull. The garden began to dissolve before me; the slumped body of the Mouse King was gone. I was suddenly engulfed in nothing but gray and darkness.
Winter Dream had slipped away from me.
Chapter 28
I blinked awake.
“Nutcracker!” I shouted as I sat up in my bed. Everything around me was bright and familiar. I was in my room. My mind felt heavy and clouded. Only patches of my dream still remained. Hyacinth. Marzipan. A dance. Warm bread. Slippers. Cuckoo clocks.
His smile.
Lifting a hand to my forehead, I tried to catch my breath. I had been looking for something. Something had been lost.
Nutcracker.
Hadn’t I gone to the parlor to retrieve the nutcracker?
“Nutcracker!” A sudden stream of uncontrollable tears rolled down my cheeks as I tossed my blankets aside and mindlessly slid my feet into my slippers. My body trembled as I grabbed the nearby robe and wrapped myself in it. Tying the sash around my waist, I tried to steady my fingers.
I needed to find Uncle Drosselmeyer. I needed to know the truth. The dream had to be real.
‘Look with your heart. Look with your mind.’
I looked down at my palm. A scar shaped as a rose was etched into my skin; the lines were an angry red. It tingled as I ran a finger over the outline. I could remember the distinct feel of his lips on mine. He had protected me from the mice. His hand interlaced with mine. Dancing. Silk gowns. Flower wreaths.
“N-Nutcracker…” I whispered, as another tear rolled
down my cheek. It was all coming back to me. I needed to find. . . Anton. He had to still be here; he had to be real.
Flinging my door open, I called out for my uncle as loudly as I could. I knew Mama would scold me for being as improper as to shout in the house so early in the morning.
“Uncle Drosselmeyer!” I shouted again, dashing down the hall toward the guest quarters. A door burst open, and my uncle appeared in the doorway. He looked as though he had been awake for hours. He was dressed in a simple suit, his hair brushed back and his eye-patch in place.
“Clara?”
“Where is he? Where is the Nutcracker? You must tell me. . . i-is he dead?” I asked, trembling.
“Clara,” he soothed, reaching out for me. His arms wrapped around me as he carefully directed me into his room, closing the door behind him.
“Please,” I sobbed, shaking my head. “I must know. I must. . . find him…”
“Clara,” Uncle Drosselmeyer said calmly as he adjusted the eye patch on his face. “You must know. . .”
“I do not know,” I shook my head, lifting my hands to my face. “I don’t know anything anymore. All I know…” My mind flashed to our shared kiss in my room in the castle. The warm glow of the fire as his hands cupped my cheek. The way he’d smile at me, hold my hand. He tried to protect me as the Mouse King swung his sword.
And I… I had stabbed him.
“I-I love him,” I whispered. “I love him, and…”
As I lifted my tear-stained face, I could feel my chin tremble. “Please tell me it’s not too late, Uncle Drosselmeyer. Please tell me that I broke the curse. H-He had transformed into a nutcracker again, and then. . .”
Uncle Drosselmeyer guided me to the side of his bed where the two of us took a seat. His pale, wrinkled hands cupped my cheeks as he stared down at me. In his eye, I could see a flash of twisted pain.
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