Page 15 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
“Stop, Clara.” I elbow her lightly. “Too many questions. Let’s jump, and see what happens. It’s an adventure, like the ones we used to dream of as girls.”
She nods, chewing her lip, and her brow furrows with determined anxiety.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask the Nutcracker. “Do you need to activate it somehow?”
“No, it’s active,” he mutters. “I can feel it. But I was hoping to find some way to control what part of Faerie we enter. We can simply step through, but I hesitate to do so without being sure where we’ll end up. We might tumble into a depthless bog or topple off the edge of a cliff, or—”
A door bangs somewhere far away. I think it was the door at the top of the staircase, and I’m almost sure I hear footsteps approaching rapidly.
“We’re out of time,” I hiss, and I shove both Clara and the Nutcracker through the ring, leaping after them myself.
How funny it would be if we simply stumbled through and nothing happened—if we stayed in the same room.
But we don’t.
One step, and everything changes.
5
Color blasts into my mind.
Radiant, vivid, overwhelming color, a dazzling cataclysm.
I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. I can only stay, where I’ve fallen on my knees, and stare.
“Up,” says a voice. “Up, both of you. Drosselmeyer will come through after us—he’ll find us. You have to get up.”
Somewhere near me Louisa is panting, fast and frantic. She’s in pain, in danger, or maybe in ecstasy.
My eyes are open as wide as I can make them go, trying to encompass the sheer glorious beauty, trying to make sense of the shapes, the colors.
Trunks, tall and golden, but also lithe and lavender. Trees, but they grow together into arches, pointed windows, and long colonnades like no trees would in our world. A bluish-lavender mist blurs the distance, highlighted with soft pink spots like dim rosy fireflies.
And the ground—chunks of amethyst and topaz, pebbles of translucent amber, ivory-white roots snaking through it all, joining and branching and uncoupling and melting together again.
There are holes in some of the trees—orifices bulging with pulpy glowing cells, like the fruity insides of a blood-orange, and those cells are studded with tiny sky-blue crystals or threaded with purple veins.
I can’t make sense of it. I don’t understand it, yet I want to worship it all.
“I should have warned you.” It’s the Nutcracker again, reaching down, gripping my shoulder. He squeezes hard, and the pain is welcome—it’s clarifying. “The first sight of Faerie can make some human minds collapse. It’s usually temporary.”
“Usually?” Louisa’s voice is shrill with laughing panic. “Yes, you should have warned us.”
“I told you not to come. But you made such an excellent argument as to why you should accompany me. Close your eyes, both of you.”
“I don’t want to,” I whimper, but I manage it. With my eyes shut, I can still see a hazy echo of the Fae world, but it’s not all-consuming. I can breathe. I can think.
Scent drifts into the colored darkness—delicate florals, fruity richness—and then a sweetness beyond anything I’ve smelled before—faint, distant, and enticing. I feel the softness of a breeze meandering through the trees, wandering over my cheeks. I can hear sounds, too—the coo of unfamiliar birds, the rustle of foliage somewhere high overhead.
And I can hear Louisa, louder as the Nutcracker tries to cajole her into closing her eyes.
“I won’t,” says Louisa defiantly. “I’m stronger than you think. I can handle it. I can—oh god—” She’s still panting, faster than ever.
“Hush now.” The Nutcracker’s fingers leave my shoulder, and his voice moves away, toward my sister. “Close your eyes. Here, take my hand. You won’t be alone here. I will guide you. Try to slow your breathing, mortal.”
“Don’t—call me—mortal,” Louisa gasps.
“Louisa, then.” His voice is a velvet curtain swept over her name. It reminds me of how he said my name in the hallway—only then, his voice was merely gentle and friendly. This time there’s a richness, a purple depth to his tone.
