Page 9 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
Frowning, I approach the Nutcracker and tug at his arm. He still feels wooden, though more malleable than before.
“What about everyone else who is trapped here?” I ask. “Don’t you care about them? Aren’t they your people, too?”
“Of course I care.” He looks down his neatly carved nose at me. “But if I don’t return quickly and reclaim my throne in Faerie, the Court of Dread will take over my kingdom. Their king may have already invaded our lands. My priority must be re-establishing my rule and protecting everyone else in the kingdom. After that, perhaps I can find a way to free the others who are trapped here.”
“I can dribble more blood on them,” Louisa offers.
“I’m afraid it would require too much of your blood,” the Nutcracker says. “My curse is new, but many of them have been cursed for years. The amount of human blood it would take to enliven them, to keep them mobile long enough to get them through the portal to Faerie—it would kill both of you. I suspect you wouldn’t like that plan.”
“Not much,” Louisa says dryly.
“If you knew what Drosselmeyer was doing, why haven’t you tried to help the others he’s captured?” I ask the Prince.
“The portal he uses opens in a different part of Faerie every time—it’s impossible to predict where or when it will appear. Drosselmeyer has cursed the portal so no Fae may pass from our realm to his, unless he wishes it. We have other doorways to the human world, but the few who use them haven’t been able to find Drosselmeyer’s house.”
“But why would Drosselmeyer do this?” I ask. “There must be a reason.”
“Why do humans hunt anything? For hunger, or for sport.” The Nutcracker looks at me, a desperate sadness brimming in his green eyes. “Please, you have to help me get home. Please help me save my people.”
Louisa snorts. “Nowyou have nice manners?” She tugs on my arm, pulling me aside and muttering, “What if this one and his people are evil? What if Drosselmeyer is protecting the human world from their kind? We shouldn’t interfere.”
She has a point. In most of the legends I’ve read, the Fae are wicked creatures, prone to torturing hapless humans, replacing children with changelings, and encouraging all sorts of debauchery. We had a huge old book about faeries—there were sketches in it that Papa would have ripped out if he’d known they were there. Sketches of naked Fae coupling in every conceivable position.
Biting my lip, I eye the Nutcracker’s tall form. His uniform is stiff, like very heavy parchment or hard leather, and the hem of his jacket falls to his thigh, so I can’t tell if he has genitals of any kind. What does he look like in his true form? And has he participated in any debauched revels?
Goodness, I’m thinking like Louisa. I must stop it.
“Even if we wanted to help you, we have no idea how to get you to Faerie,” I tell him.
“The portal Drosselmeyer uses is in this house. It must be,” says the Nutcracker desperately. “Listen, I can feel myself hardening again—”
Louisa snorts, a sharp burst of hysterical laughter, and nearly drops her candle.
The Nutcracker quirks an eyebrow at her.
“Never mind,” she chokes. “What were you saying about getting hard?”
The circles on his cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. “Ah, I see the joke now. How delightful that you can indulge in carnal mockery while I’m suffering.”
Louisa is still giggling, trying to muffle the sounds. When she’s overtired, she sometimes goes into fits of laughter she can’t control.
“It’s not you,” I assure the Nutcracker. “She’s tired. We’ll look around for this portal, and when we find it we’ll use blood to wake you up again. What exactly should we look for?”
The Nutcracker’s features are visibly stiffening. Words leak between his teeth as his lower jaw locks back into place. “A door—to nowhere.”
His body tightens, shrinking smaller and smaller until he’s lying on the floor, a wooden soldier doll with jointed limbs and black boots. Completely inanimate, though I suspect he can still see and hear in this state.
I pick him up carefully. “Louisa, would youtryto stop laughing? We need to put him back where he was. And then you need to get some sleep.”
“What about looking for the Faerie portal?” She bursts into more giggles. “I hear myself saying it, and it’s just—it’s ridiculous. This is all ridiculous.”
“We can’t search for it tonight. We need rest. Perhaps tomorrow, during Drosselmeyer’s party, we’ll have a chance to sneak up to the third floor and look around.”
The next evening, Louisa and I dress in our finest clothes, and she lets me do her makeup, which is unusual. She typically goes to parties with barely a brush of powder on her face. She’s pretty enough without it, of course. Hers is that sharp, bright-eyed, vivacious prettiness that never fails to catch men’s attention. Not many women are immune to her, either.
As for me—well, an elderly great-aunt once told Papa that I had “a quiet kind of loveliness.” Which is true. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wished for Louisa’s impetuous brilliance, more than once in my life.
She’s wearing a gown of rich rose that perfectly complements her golden hair. I’m wearing one of deep green, just right for my coloring and my auburn locks. We haven’t been girls in a few years, and propriety dictates we pin our hair up for a formal party such as this, but both of us have left as many curls down as we dare.
