Page 20 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
“My soldiers will be dead, imprisoned, or defending the last bastions of this realm,” says the Nutcracker. “And my servants were all in the royal city. As for allies—if I’m right about what part of the kingdom we’re in, there is someone close by who may be able to help us.”
“A friend of yours?” asks Clara.
The Nutcracker inspects his damaged arm, then works the joint, wincing. “No, I wouldn’t call him a friend—it’s much worse than that. He’s family.”
7
I never thought I had it in me to kill a living thing.
But the black blood of the rat soldier, sprinkled all over my dress, says otherwise.
And I didn’t just kill him. I demolished him. I’m not even sure how many times I stabbed him.
I hang back, behind the Nutcracker and Louisa, trying to cope with what happened. My hands and legs are a little shaky, but inside I feel calmer than I have any right to be, considering what I’ve done. It’s as if some poisonous knot in the pit of my chest has been unwound.
I think I have been murderously angry for a long time, and I didn’t know it. I’m certainly better at fighting and killing than I ever suspected. That should scare me, but in a place like this, it could be an advantage.
Unless this fight was simply beginner’s luck, and next time I’ll fail miserably and die.
Not a bad place to die, this.
Now that we’ve passed beyond the murky, foul influence of the rats, the mind-glazing beauty of Faerie floods my mind again, but its radiance and its excruciating level of sharp detail aren’t quite as overwhelming this time. I’m entranced and astonished, but not overcome. And if I start to feel light-headed, I simply look down at the dark blood on my dress, and I think of how the first rat screamed when I pinned his hand to a tree with my knife.
We’ve passed through the belt of jeweled forest, and the landscape around us has changed. We’re climbing up steps formed of twisted roots and crooked stone, through a veritable cathedral of green-tinged tree trunks that form countless natural archways. Sunlight pours down through emerald-and-yellow leaves, bathing the interior of the forest in limpid gold.
My thigh muscles ache from climbing, and there’s a pinching pain in my side. I have bruises everywhere, and I’m fairly sure Louisa does, too—she’s limping as we go.
At last we break out onto a ledge washed in sunlight.
“It looks like the same sun from our world,” I say.
“It is,” replies the Nutcracker. “The mortal world and the Fae realm are but two sides of the same coin. We’ve not far to go now—the valley just below this ridge is where my cousin lives. He’s a bit of an ass, but he’s also a powerful warrior and spellcrafter. He likes to wander, so it may take us a while to find him.”
He leans against a tree, his breath shallow. Is it my imagination, or do his limbs seem to be stiffening?
“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” I say. “You’re reverting to your nutcracker form.”
“The effect of Louisa’s blood lasted a bit longer here, in my native realm,” he grits out. “But I fear it has finally worn off.”
Louisa drops her weapons bag, takes her dagger from its sheath, and cuts her sleeve, ripping back the fabric to reveal her forearm. Shallowly she slices the top of her arm, swipes two fingers in the blood, and swabs some on the Nutcracker’s chest.
“You didn’t answer me before,” she says. “What if you drank my blood? Would an internal application help more than a surface one?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Here.” She holds her bleeding arm up to his mouth. “Drink.”
He’s taller than she is, but since he’s leaning against the tree, they’re practically eye to eye. I wish I could paint them like this—the Fae prince with his stiff limbs, his scarlet uniform, and his handsome, rigid profile. His lower jaw hangs slightly open as he stares at my sister.
She’s a glorious mess, her rose-colored gown dirty and torn, blood dripping from her arm, an ice-blue dagger clutched in her other hand. Like me, she has lost nearly all the pins holding her hair in place, and it tumbles down her back, brightly golden as the sun.
Beyond them is the yellow sunset sky and the colorful landscape of Faerie—a wilderness of tall bluffs veiled in waterfalls, slim peaks linked by narrow bridges, multihued forests and countless silver streams.
“Drink,” says Louisa. “Unless my dirty mortal blood is beneath you.”
“Only the Unseelie consume blood.” The Prince turns his face away.
“But this could help you, yes? You said there are more of those rat-things out there. If they attack us, we’ll need you in the best possible form.”
