Midnight in Everwood(48)
‘Then you’re a hero,’ Marietta said softly.
The captain grimaced. ‘I would not presume to call myself such a thing.’
Marietta half-smiled to herself. ‘Heroes never do. Am I correct in assuming your father was a soldier before you?’
‘Yes. Though in Everwood, since King Gelum took the throne, all boys are dispatched to the Military Quarter upon reaching seven years of age. The soldiers’ code of conduct is ingrained in each of us.’
‘Seven?’ Marietta repeated. ‘How very Spartan. Does King Gelum have need for such rigid enforcements in his land?’ She toyed with the saltspray flower.
The captain watched her fingers dance over the petals. ‘It’s mandatory. The day you turn fourteen, you are permitted to leave in order to secure an apprenticeship in silks, sugars or enchantments, or join the King’s Army. We believe every seven years the stars bestow a new gift upon us. Some families hold celebrations to mark the occasion. If I had been born under a different star, perhaps my fate would have twisted in another direction, but it was not to be.’
Marietta’s fingers stilled on the flower. ‘Where did your true passions lie?’
‘Joining the King’s Army is an elite prospect,’ the captain said loyally. ‘Only the finest are selected. If you prove worthy, nothing will match its pay.’ He glanced at his sword then back at her. A sadness lingered in his voice. ‘It is of no consequence discussing what might have been.’
‘I understand more than you know,’ Marietta said quietly.
‘Your place might not be here in Everwood, but it is written in the stars that you will be a dancer,’ the captain said.
Marietta frowned. ‘How did you—’
His gaze rested on her, soft and knowing. ‘I see it when you dance.’
Marietta smiled at him. He cleared his throat and pulled a paper-wrapped wedge from a desk drawer. ‘These past few days I had business elsewhere. I passed by my mother’s house on my return. She bakes the finest cakes in all of Sugar Alley. This one is my favourite; I saved you a slice.’ Marietta noticed a tinge creeping across his throat with interest.
‘Why … thank you.’
‘It was nothing,’ the captain said gruffly, tipping it onto a plate and passing it to her. He took off his jacket, folding it neatly over the back of his chair, the gold buttons and epaulettes gleaming in the firelight. His shirt was rumpled beneath, the shadows under his eyes pronounced as he ploughed through a stack of correspondences marked with the king’s signature seal.
She watched him drown in their contents, now and then punctuated with a rub of his temples. Rather than question him, Marietta ate the cake. White chocolate and snowberry, it was sweet and light and tasted of Christmas morning. When she returned to the suite, its taste lingered on her lips.
The following day, King Gelum summoned her down to the throne room.
‘Well, my little dancer, have you learnt your lesson in obedience?’
Marietta nodded, too fatigued to resist the siren call of sustenance any longer. She began to dance.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘I can’t stop thinking of the way your eyes danced when you last smiled at me,’ Claren told Marietta the following week. He was escorting her back up the spiralling stairs after yet another performance. Her dress was an inky ripple of night, her hair flowed down her back, embedded with glittering icicles. Black satin pointe shoes were tied with ribbons around her calves. All she lacked were raven-dark feathers to cast her as Odile. Since she had buckled to his command, King Gelum had ordered a shoemaker over from the Silk Quarter to fit her with a rainbow of dancing shoes. The shoemaker had been fascinated by Marietta’s pointe shoes and had performed an intricate study of them before forging his replicas. She had stretched and rehearsed Aurora’s springing steps by habit, testing the new pairs were of sufficient quality. This had delighted both the shoemaker and Pirlipata, who formed her audience. Secretly, Marietta had been relieved her feet had healed while she had drifted in that fugue state, lack of food tipping her over the edge of life, darkness awaiting her below.
She gave Claren a cool look, freezing the smile on his face. Anger was an uncomfortable emotion. It nestled under her skin with sharp edges that bit. ‘Perhaps once I am free of your king and this palace then I shall find it within me to smile once more.’ The thread of gold stitching along her hem reared up, a wave of lost sunlight against the night of her dress.
Claren appeared sincere for once. ‘I’m sorry, Marietta, truly.’
Marietta gestured down at King Gelum, resting upon his throne below, in a silver suit and a white furred cape. ‘How can you bear serving such a man?’
Claren tugged his jacket, making it more dishevelled than it was prior to his adjustment. ‘Being a member of the King’s Army is a well-respected position and the pay is good. You have to understand—’ he lowered his voice ‘—I had no idea this was going to happen. If I had, I would never have suggested …’ He trailed off, looking at her with eyes of the bleakest winter’s day; grey and miserable.
‘At ease, soldier,’ Marietta said wryly, her golden hem melting back into place. ‘You are not the sole person to be held accountable for the events of that night. I too was reckless in my behaviour.’ Reckless was one word for it; childish might be another. She was ashamed of how easily she had been seduced by a wondrous palace and pretty enchantments.