Midnight in Everwood(38)

‘As I intend to. Dancing is all I long to do.’





Chapter Nineteen


The next morning, Marietta stood before the frozen sugar wall, mulling over the events of the past day. Its glow never hinted at an alteration in light and she found it hard to discern the hour. The portion that wrapped around their suite was a whorl of opalescent lavender, deepening into a coruscating mauve that swept down onto another floor. It was translucent, and as Marietta peered out of a paler, cherry-blossom-pink swirl, she stole a look at the frost-encrusted landscape outside. A swollen pearl of a moon stared back at her.

‘I wouldn’t if I were you.’ Dellara’s voice crept behind Marietta, from where she was ensconced in a heap of clothing; whisper-thin petticoats and velvet skirts, satin ballgowns and high-waisted striped trousers, silk slips and gauzy capes. Jeanne Paquin and Jean-Philippe Worth would have murdered for a glimpse at the sartorial treasure chest Dellara was poring over.

‘I’m sorry?’ Marietta touched the wall, curious if it ever melted. It was freezing to the touch and she withdrew her hand at once.

‘It’s an inadvertent rite of passage to lick the walls. Each year, some young one believes they’ll be the exception and get a mouthful of sugar for their efforts. They never do. And I have no desire to drip-feed you water as you stand there with your tongue affixed to the wall.’

Marietta paid no heed to the condescension dripping from her tone. ‘How does it remain frozen? Surely you have periods of sunlight in this land?’

‘Winter is our true reigning king. It’s long, dark and seemingly eternal. We won’t see a glimpse of sun for several moontides now. Besides which, the walls are enchanted; they cannot melt.’

Marietta was bewitched; magic was ingrained into the very fabric of this world.

‘The palace, the gingerbread chalets and huts in the town, the marzipan whirls of apartment suites and cobblestones, all of it is locked in an immutable state. Spellbound to remain frozen. If you attempted to eat any of it, you’d break your teeth. Even the moose are wise enough not to take a nibble.’

Marietta was vaguely insulted. ‘I am certain I possess more intelligence than a moose,’ she told Dellara, who shrugged and resumed examining her wardrobe.

Yet Marietta’s curiosity danced on. ‘How did they become enchanted? Who in your world holds such powers?’ How did Drosselmeier connect to this strange and wild puzzle she’d been confronted with? How had he discovered the doors between worlds?

A faint sigh escaped from an ivory satin cape, edged in glistening peach feathers that fluttered as if teased by an errant breeze. ‘The Grand Confectioner is the enchanter. We hold only small magics, often pretty and sometimes useful but insubstantial as a snowflake in comparison to true power.’ Dellara’s eyes shadowed. ‘Once every few lifetimes, someone with such power walks these lands. The Grand Confectioner’s identity and motivations are shadowed in secrecy. Legend has it he’s an ancient sorcerer from another world that preferred ours. Celesta is a world of doors and magic, and he holds them all.’

‘One of the soldiers happened to mention yesterday that the Grand Confectioner allowed the wards protecting Everwood to lapse after indulging in one too many libations.’

Dellara turned back to her cape. ‘That’s nothing but old palace hearsay. Nobody witnessed him intoxicated; only the empty glasses were glimpsed. And an intruder managed to enter and almost murder the king.’ She gave the cape a nostalgic smile.

‘All these worlds,’ Marietta murmured to herself. ‘Wondrous and terrifying to consider. “What immortal hand or eye …”’ She directed her gaze onto the other woman. ‘Have you ever travelled to another?’

Dellara’s patchwork of venomous words and smiles fell away as she met Marietta’s eyes. Within them, she glimpsed something as ancient as starlight. ‘Yes,’ she said.

Marietta disliked to pry, despite the avalanche of fresh questions she now had. She had spent the equivalent of one night in this sugared world. They had slept on the oversized cushions and thick carpet the night before, the situation proving more intimate than Marietta was comfortable with. She had inquired as to the location of the beds, only to be met with Pirlipata’s quizzical expression and the fast knowledge that this world didn’t possess such a thing as beds. She had lain there, fatigued with the aftereffects of the day, deliberating on whether she had made the right choice. Until Pirlipata’s gentle breaths and Dellara’s soft snores had lulled her to sleep, giving in to the sweet release of unconsciousness.

Marietta directed her gaze back onto the world outside. Her absence must have been noted by now. Her gut twisted at the thought of Drosselmeier and what comment he would make to the constabulary. How cruel it was that her home would now forevermore be tainted with him. Once she had better navigated this world, she would find a way to send word to Frederick. Everwood was delicious, tempting as a box of the finest chocolates and more magical than a book of Grimms’ tales and she longed to share it with him. ‘I was wondering if perhaps I might explore the town this morning,’ she said aloud to Dellara. ‘I have a craving for more of those divine chocolates.’

Dellara laughed.

Marietta puzzled at this but her ruminations were forgotten with the arrival of a line of servers in festive uniforms, carrying a breakfast feast on silver trays. Marietta joined Pirlipata and Dellara, lounging on the cushions, and dined on snowman-shaped loaves, herbed butter, whorls of creamed cheese and sugared pastries, and bowls of glazed frostberries. She exchanged pleasantries with Pirlipata, who was a kinder soul, until her presence was requested by the king, leaving Marietta in the company of Dellara, who was equally unimpressed with the arrangement.