Midnight in Everwood(33)
They had halted in a low-ceilinged, vast area. The floor was glossed in obsidian, impervious to the moose shifting on their hooves. When Marietta glanced down, it reflected her intrigue back at her, along with her bedraggled appearance. A doll with ripped seams. She smoothed her hair and looked about. On one side, a low, wide rectangle was cut from the wall, forming the entrance. Snow fluttered through it. Opposite, a huge decorative door was mounted in a wall of frozen sugar, glimmering in the glowing ice lanterns dangling from the rocky ceiling. She ascertained it led to the palace and her intrigue deepened. Though the market woman had warned her from it she harboured a desire to glimpse it for herself. The child that resided within her – the one that had clasped a clothbound volume of fairy tales to her chest as if the stories themselves might warm her with their magic – would never forgive her otherwise. Either side of the great expanse of space, heaving with sleighs and bustling, liveried footmen, were doors. On the left, the doors were large wooden squares, with little latches and windows, through which moose poked their heads out, surveying the scene. On the right, the doors were waist-height, striped in jaunty red and white, and swung open and shut. Miniature reindeer frolicked in and out of their own accord, approaching the footmen to be fussed before darting away and back into their little stables.
Three footmen approached their sleigh and the soldiers hopped out. Marietta followed suit. In an inverse of the soldiers’ uniforms, the footmen wore white jackets over garnet breeches, tucked into high black boots. Tiny mice were engraved on their silver buttons. They reminded Marietta of something but when she cast her mind back, she found her recollections of her own world hazy, as if she was peering into an antique looking glass that mottled her memories.
Moving seamlessly, the footmen unharnessed and stabled the moose, pushing the sleigh into a line that another team of footmen were de-icing. The sleighs were an assortment of sizes and colours like bonbons in a sweetshop. Marietta’s eye was drawn to a behemoth in holly-green and gold that sat an additional layer of passengers stacked above the first like the larger horse-drawn omnibuses that served Nottingham, and a narrow sleigh with long, curved runners protruding before it.
‘There is always a bevy of guests visiting the palace,’ Danyon explained, noting her interest. ‘King Gelum is well known for his extravagant balls and they’re always well attended.’ He nodded at the narrow sleigh. ‘The one-person sleighs are owned by guests residing within Everwood. Smaller sleighs are pulled by a team of reindeer. The larger sleighs are long distance and require moose, in addition to the ones the King’s Army use for patrolling the forest, like ours.’ He indicated the sleigh they had just departed and Marietta frowned at the mice fronting it; something felt familiar about them.
Then Claren appeared at his side and Marietta lost her thought-wisp. She could better differentiate between them now. Claren’s mussed hair and slight slouch looked as if someone had made a copy of Danyon and smudged it, rendering his outlines less crisp, less professional.
The captain pulled a timepiece from his jacket. It was gold and featured more dials and hands than Marietta had seen on a clock before. ‘I must appraise the king of our findings.’ Legat snapped the timepiece shut and returned it to his pocket. His gaze rested on Marietta’s, hardened gold. ‘On no account are you to leave the stables before I have returned to secure you an escort. That’s an order.’
Marietta levelled a stare at him. ‘I am not one of the soldiers in your retinue, captain. You cannot direct your orders onto me.’
‘In this palace, this kingdom, you fall under my command, wanderer. Danyon, I require your accompaniment. Claren and Fin, your guard duty in the throne room has commenced.’ Legat marched away, leaving Marietta stewing in her own broil of indignation and contempt. Two footmen scurried to open the ornate door, its width greater than a Steinway, the metallic lattice glittering as Legat and Danyon strode through. Marietta was flashed a glimpse of a dusky corridor beyond before the door clanged shut.
‘Frightfully pompous, isn’t he?’ Claren grinned at her. ‘Shall we defy him and take a peek inside?’
Marietta turned to him. ‘Why are you so keen to tempt me inside the palace? What stake do you hold in this quest?’
Claren’s voice slid into a more seductive note and despite herself, Marietta’s desire to witness the wonders she imagined within the palace grew. ‘I would wager you’ll never see a more magical sight in the remainder of your days.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Besides, perhaps I’m secretly yearning you’ll grant me a dance.’
Fin groaned. ‘Must you always behave in such a terrible manner? The captain will have you stripped of your rank if you continue to flout his rule.’
She had a sudden, visceral memory of her nanny reading the Brothers Grimm story The Shoes that were Danced to Pieces and drifting off into dreams of enchanted castles and dancing until dawn wrested the sky from the moon. Upon confessing her secret wish to be one of the princesses, nanny had chided her, reminding her that, ‘A little magic may sound like a wonderful adventure but disobeying your father is not the path to follow.’ Marietta was so very weary of men that behaved like generals in the war of life. She turned to Claren. ‘Escort me to the ball.’
Fin cleared his throat. ‘Are you certain that’s wise?’
Marietta was still watching Claren, awaiting his response.