Midnight in Everwood(40)
‘Good afternoon, Your Majesty,’ Marietta said.
A muscle twitched in the captain’s jaw. She disregarded it as the king continued to speak.
‘I shall be holding a banquet in a few days and I will require you to dance for my esteemed guests. Now, my little dancer, would you care to show me how you perform when the floor is yours alone?’ He swept a hand out to encompass the empty throne room.
‘Why certainly.’ What a change it was to dance for someone appreciative.
King Gelum clicked his fingers and a couple of musicians sprang to play.
The music was slow and thick as honey. Marietta’s dancing drizzled out of her in soft pliés, silky glissades that glided across the floor, and luxurious penchés, one hand grazing the floor as she dipped down, a single leg lifted high behind her. As she danced, she caught a faint glistening from the corner of her eye; the delicate lines of thorns were rippling. Her gown was enchanted. Marietta smiled, performing a slow revolution of her arabesque on demi-pointe. Her heart skipped as she broke into a string of pirouettes, her smile stretching wider across her face, the air tasting sweeter, her thoughts lighter than a soufflé.
The music slinked to a finish.
‘Utterly delectable,’ King Gelum declared.
Chapter Twenty
The following days took on a dream-like quality. Marietta rose late, feasted for breakfast and bathed. And every evening, she danced in the finest silks and gossamer gowns for the king, her spirits soaring with each leap she took across the throne room until she felt she might brush the stars. With each word of praise the king uttered, she shone brighter, danced harder. But tonight, she began to tire as her feet cramped and her chest grew tight. She glided to a halt in a chassé and performed her révérence – a curtsy to end the performance.
Captain Legat stood on the periphery, observing the scene. When she gravitated towards the carved snow-bench behind him, she noticed his eyes flick to the king, a flicker of concern dancing over his face.
‘I did not give you my permission to cease,’ King Gelum bellowed.
Marietta looked at him with a start. ‘I am afraid I was tiring; I must rest for a moment to catch my breath.’
The king twirled his long fingers against his throne. His twining ice rings clinked against the arms. A clink for each minute trickling by that Marietta refused to look away from his hard gaze, refused to yield.
‘You must keep dancing.’ Captain Legat’s whisper, deep and silken butterscotch, poured into Marietta’s ear.
‘I cannot. I require a break,’ she said, suddenly distrusting the look in King Gelum’s eyes.
‘I have travelled throughout my own world and others and have yet to meet another woman as talented as the likes of you.’ King Gelum’s words purred at her.
‘I am no more talented than a legion of women. We are all more capable than you know,’ Marietta said, her concern growing.
‘It does not bode well for you that you possess such an urge to challenge me. Though I must confess, I will enjoy it immensely.’ The king’s fingers stopped clacking against the throne and Marietta froze. She had not missed the violent promise in his words that echoed Drosselmeier’s. King Gelum smiled. ‘You shall dance for me now as your king commands’.
Before Marietta could protest, her legs suddenly jerked away from her. She found herself walking as if she were a marionette doll, an invisible hand pulling her up on strings until she was en pointe. She gasped. Whatever strange magic was at play it twisted itself around her like the ribbons on her ballet slippers, pulling her into odd contortions that mimicked dancing. With it came a memory. Of Drosselmeier watching her during her Company audition, of her legs spinning out of her control. The magic tugged her through the motions, disconnected and hyperextending until she cried out with pain. And yet still the music whirled on, the faceless guards watched, and she was forced to dance faster and faster.
She summoned the rage that had stormed through her like wildfire before the clock had struck midnight upon Drosselmeier’s stage. She closed her eyes, resisting the magic. It was to no avail. She opened her eyes as her body danced wilder.
The rage settled deeper. Coiling within her, it contoured itself to nestle around her bones, becoming one with her. ‘Please stop this enchantment,’ Marietta beseeched him.
The king looked amused. ‘Then you shall not stop until I command you.’
Marietta set aside the blistering pain in her feet and rose en pointe, not allowing the king the satisfaction of seeing her wince. The music grew louder. She pirouetted across the throne room on the horizonal axis. Each time she spun, she whipped her head around desperately searching for an exit, a means of escape. But the door was heavily guarded and she couldn’t see any way out. She glanced down at her blush-pink pointe shoes only to see that they now bloomed crimson with blood.
‘If you struggle against me, if you give King Gelum the opportunity to lay down his might, I cannot help you.’ Captain Legat’s whisper came fast, urgent as his arm scooped her up, taking all of her weight.
Gathering her last reserve of strength, Marietta arched back against him, lifting her arms above her head into the crown-like couronne. She felt the captain still as she pressed into him, heard his sharp intake of breath. After a pause, he reacted, firming his hands about her waist, before she could try to evade him.