Midnight in Everwood(81)

He stepped towards her, rested his hands on her arms. ‘You must not dwell on such things. I am needed here and you cannot stay. Even if I were to surrender my command of the rebellion, where would I go? Return with you to your world? I could never carve out a life for myself there. And I should never forgive myself if I were the reason you ceased pursuing a life of your own. To see you dance is to witness something truly magical. You dream brighter than anyone I’ve ever met, Marietta, and it is a thing of beauty. Promise me you will not lose that for anything, anyone across the worlds.’ His hands tightened on her arms. Drew her closer to him. ‘Promise me.’

‘I promise. Someone wise once told me it was in the stars.’ She retrieved his diary from her pocket. ‘Your words have given me strength when I most needed them.’

His smile warmed her.

‘Tell me which you seek when you turn your gaze skywards,’ she said softly.

He took his diary back. ‘I favour Hethell, the scribe, and her army of writers. So called as nothing contains more power than words. The truth is a sword mightier than any weapon.’

Marietta looked up at him. ‘I would share the world with you if I could.’

‘And I you.’

His eyes burnt into hers. She stood there, waiting. Each second seemed to last an eternity. He was close enough to reach out and close that chasm between them.

‘If the king finds out I’ve touched you—’ His voice husked away into nothing, his words tasting of secret promises, heady and irresistible as chocolate.

‘He won’t,’ Marietta whispered.

The door slammed open.

‘Captain, the king requires your presence in—’ Claren halted in the doorframe. He looked at Legat and Marietta as if the vision might dissipate the harder he stared at it before regaining his senses and stepping into the room, swiftly closing the door behind himself.

Legat stood to attention, buttoning his shirt in haste. ‘Have you so little respect to come bursting in here in such a manner?’

Scarletting, Marietta smoothed her hair, attempting to smooth her fractured composure together.

Claren coughed. Covered it with a fist that failed to hide the twitching corners of his mouth as he retrieved the captain’s jacket from behind the desk. ‘I believe this is what you’re looking for?’ he asked wryly. Captain Legat yanked it from his hand with a sharp look. ‘I’ll escort you back,’ Claren told Marietta.

Legat shrugged his jacket on. ‘That shall not be necessary,’ he said at once.

Claren looked at him. ‘How many times have the two of you been seen together? We all heard the palace gossip that reigned for a month after that dance.’ He hesitated then. ‘I’ll give you a moment alone.’

‘Fine.’ Legat finished fixing his jacket, in full livery once more as he stood before Marietta.

Claren closed the door behind himself.

Legat’s eyes lingered on hers. She painted them in her memory; their butterscotch shade, how they softened when he gazed at her, the flecks of gold in his irises that the light was so fond of toying with. He reached for her hand and held it between his. ‘I shall never forget you.’

‘Nor I you,’ she whispered, looking up at him, her throat thick. ‘Goodbye, Captain Legat.’

His thumb stroked a path down her hand, his eyes afire. ‘Farewell, my wanderer,’ he murmured.

She stood on demi-pointe and pressed her lips against his soft, full mouth. He started and she stepped back, mortified at her own forwardness. ‘Forgive me,’ she said, ‘I was under the impression—’

Legat took her in his arms and kissed her. It resembled nothing of the gentle kisses she had been imagining. It was wild and raw and passionate. Swept her away on a wave of longing as she pressed the length of her body against his, Legat holding her there tightly.

Claren re-entered. ‘As much as I hate to hasten you, we have a matter of urgency to attend to, captain.’

Legat tore himself away from Marietta to glance at Claren with a sudden frown. He pushed the door back open. Shouts echoed up the staircase.

A curl of scarlet ribbon drifted down the core of the palace.

Marietta inhaled. ‘Is that—’

‘We’re receiving reports from the town, captain. It appears the ice prison is on the brink of collapse. The red rebellion has galvanised the Everwoodians and they are dismantling it, block by block.’

Marietta followed Legat and Claren onto the staircase. A second scarlet curl fell. It fluttered past Marietta’s face from above. When she looked up, the air was littered with falling ribbons.

Legat’s smile looked like freedom.

Claren looked uncertain. ‘Captain? What are your orders?’

‘The truth of the matter is that a king such as Gelum fails to pay attention to the people whom he deems lower than him. Insignificant. Even when they number far greater than the total sum of his soldiers and guards. And that is a fatal mistake,’ Legat said. His smile grew.

And what started as a whisper became a roar. Red for the blood we’ll spill in the streets, red for the rebellion.

Scarlet ribbons snowed down as hordes of people stormed down the staircase. Each server that had been a continuous, demanded, nameless presence, each of the sugarers and patissiers and chocolatiers that had devoted hours into crafting the king’s whims, each forgotten maid and cleaner. Anyone who had faded into one anonymous background that kept the palace functioning was rushing down the spiral. Clanging pans and brooms and serving trays, they raised their voices, uniting in a deafening chant of revolution.