Midnight in Everwood(50)
‘Don’t,’ Captain Legat said softly.
Marietta bestowed on him her coolest look. Pirlipata and Dellara remained in their suite. To flee into the forest, residence of creeping shadows and wild horrors, while they remained imprisoned would be both reckless and unthinkable. When the king had proclaimed she would dance at his annual Festival of Light celebration in the centre of Everwood, Marietta had been struck by temptation, that she couldn’t deny, but she was decided she would return to the palace. When she found a way out, it would not be by herself or for herself.
She walked at the captain’s side. He was dressed in full livery, including a fur-lined hat, dark against his hair, and his sword at his hip. The king’s most trusted soldier. Underneath her furred cape, Marietta wore a thousand glittering snowflakes, sewn together to form a gown as delicate as Chantilly lace, light as gossamer and the pale blue of a frosted morning. Her pointe shoes and cape were a fairy tale of Prussian blue. A single question burned the tip of her tongue but she would not ask it of the captain yet. She required a moment alone with him.
They followed King Gelum to an opulent throne, crafted from sugarplums. Bewitched sugar mice squeaked on servers’ trays and a snowberry crème fountain had been erected beside him. A handful of well-attired guests dipped ice goblets into its stream and sipped, surveying the décor from their brioche tier of seating.
It was beautiful. And then Marietta looked deeper. On her welcome to the palace, she had been so overawed by the finery and indulgence that it had blinded her to the truth that lay like thorns beneath the snow. She would not make the same mistake again.
Her hoarfrost-heart splintered. The audience were clothed in ragged dresses, an insufficient barrier to the bitter temperature. Evidence of sickness was plain on many faces. As was their hatred and contempt for the king’s party.
‘Cease that at once,’ Captain Legat said under his breath.
Marietta snapped round to glare at him. Her anger faded upon seeing him address a small child. The boy turned imploring eyes to the captain, his hands filled with water from a nearby fountain. He couldn’t have been more than four or five years of age and was accompanied by an older sister.
‘What on earth is the matter with you?’ Marietta hissed at the captain. ‘He’s just playing.’
Captain Legat disregarded her. He slipped something from his pocket and handed it to the girl. ‘Use these until they run out. Melt the snow from the Endless Forest, it’s safer. Send an adult. Do not cross that boundary yourselves, do you understand me?’
She nodded and grabbed her little brother’s hand, tugging him past a globe of lit-ice and away. As they flashed by the enchanted lantern, a hard lump formed in Marietta’s throat. The girl’s face was shot through with silver, her irises and hair half-leached of colour. ‘What was wrong with her?’ she asked quietly.
The captain was grave. ‘The mineral sickness. Melting enchantments are overpriced and the townspeople poor. The water that runs through these public fountains is tantamount to poison.’
Marietta grasped his wrist. ‘Why then was the boy attempting to drink from it?’
‘Some feel they have no choice; to thirst is a terrible thing. And many children have not had the luxury of education these days.’
‘Yet Everwood possesses riches surely? I’ve witnessed the king’s many entertainments and tonight is no exception—’ Marietta halted her thoughts as the captain stiffened. She let her fingers slip from his wrist.
‘Not here,’ he said shortly.
King Gelum’s voice boomed out, announcing her performance.
Marietta stared at the captain. ‘I cannot dance for these people,’ she whispered. ‘This is a travesty.’
Captain Legat turned his gaze on her. ‘You can and you must. For if you do not then you shall suffer also.’
‘There are children suffering.’ She felt half-frozen with shock at witnessing the extent of the king’s neglect. His cruelty cut deeper than she had known; he had been allowed to carve through his people with the might of the throne behind him. For there was no other governing force to hold him accountable.
Yet it seemed the captain no longer deigned to converse with her.
As the music began, Marietta danced in doll-like bourrée steps to a music-box melody, the atmosphere hardened like a caramel glaze. Travelling on the diagonal, she performed a series of petit piqué battements, her legs whipping the air as if it was cream, her arms soft in port de bras. As she slowed into a glissade, a gliding transition, King Gelum pronounced, ‘I declare the Festival of Light begun! Let us celebrate the darkest point of winter and recognise that our days of light are forthcoming.’ He held his arms high.
The night erupted in illuminance. Swathes of ivory chiffon billowed overheard, sprinkled with light. Fir trees strung with glass baubles flickered alight. A luminescent powdered sugar-snow began to softly fall. Marietta drew her glissade out, slowing to watch an iridescent mouse run across the ink-black pool of the sky. She stretched out into an elongated arabesque.
A curl of scarlet dropped onto the ice.
Marietta held her arabesque.
The caramel glaze of tension shattered.
A lone scream of defiance, rage and desperation led the charge. King Gelum’s military procession snapped to attention, barricading the king as the citizens of Everwood surged in his direction. A chant formed. Red for the blood we’ll spill in the streets, red for the rebellion.