Page 99 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
I’m putting the finishing touches on the scene where Drosselmeyer enters the throne room of the Rat King, when Louisa dances into the hallway with a platter of tiny iced cakes in her hand.
“Here.” She shoves the platter in front of my nose. “Eat something. Sister’s orders.”
“Hm.” I lean closer to the painting, trying to see if I’ve got the shading on Drosselmeyer’s coat just right.
“Your eyes are tired from being in here for the past two days,” Louisa says. “You’re coming with me. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Very well.” I slide off my stool with a sigh and begin packing away the paints.
My maid, a pixie with brown skin and fiery hair, comes running from the end of the hall. “No, no, Lady Clara, I’ll do that.”
“But I don’t mind. I’m used to it.”
“Lady Clara.” She gives me a firm look. “This is my job. I’m well-paid to serve you, but you let me do precious little. It’s very boring. Please allow me to do this, or I’ll go mad. I’ll be sure to put everything away exactly as you like it.”
“Well, in that case…” I laugh, relinquishing the supplies to her capable hands.
I turn to my sister, but she’s frozen, staring at a painting I finished a few days ago—one of her, bleeding and battered, flinging the Nutcracker doll into the Unending Pool.
“You captured it so well,” she says quietly. “And you weren’t even there.”
“You described it vividly.” I pluck a cake from the platter she’s holding. “You have an artistic sense, too, you know.”
“I appreciate art, yes—I see it, but I could never make it. Not like you do. Not like this.” She whirls to face me, and I catch one of the cakes as it flies off the platter. “I’m sorry, Clara. I’ve thought those words, but I haven’t said them aloud. I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you. For a long time you were the only one who saw me, the only one who listened, and I took advantage of that. I cut you down in little ways, because I felt so small and empty myself. It was wicked of me.”
“You’re forgiven. And I judged you harshly for your seductions, for taking comfort and pleasure in different people so often. It was wrong of me. We were really just surviving, both of us, in our own ways. Surviving until we could finally come alive. I don’t know why I’m crying…” I laugh through a sniffle.
“Do you ever miss it?” Her eyes are brimming with tears too. “Do you miss home, and Papa?”
“I feel guilty that I don’t,” I whisper.
“So do I.” She releases a long sigh, as if the admission is a relief. “I loved him, but it was exhausting, living in a house with so much fear, and so many rules.”
“I wish he could have let himself work less, worry less, and live more.”
“I know.” She grips the platter in one hand, wiping away tears with the back of her wrist. “Enough sentiment! Let’s eat sweets and walk in this beautiful city.”
We fetch our coats and leave the palace together. Louisa leads me down a sloped street paved in colorful stones, toward the river and the market.
“Think of it, Clara—a lifetime in Faerie, and you get to paint it all. Everything.” Her excited breath puffs in the cold air. She does a spin and nearly crashes into a baker’s cart. The gnome wheeling it shakes his head at both of us, and we hurry on, stifling giggles.
“And I’m going to be Queen,” Louisa continues, more soberly. “I know what you’re probably thinking—I’m flighty, and volatile—I make bad decisions and I can be cruel sometimes—”
“Stop.” I catch her hand, turning her to face me. “Louisa, I’m happy for you. And I think you’ll be just the right sort of queen for Faerie. They don’t need someone perfect—a little wickedness might just help you understand your subjects better.”
Relief floods her gaze. “I hope so. And Lir is good for me, Clara—he balances me. We balance each other.”
I squeeze her hand, then release it as we continue walking.
“And it’s not just being Queen,” she continues. “Lir wants me as one of his advisors regarding border defense. He says I’m naturally good at strategy and fighting. I’m going to train, Clara, and maybe someday I’ll be a captain.”
“A captain who loves parties and gowns and sweets.” I hook an eyebrow at her.
“And why not?”
“Why not indeed.”
“And you,” she says gaily, “you and Fin will be so happy too, with the new spells-and-sweets shop, right here in the city—” She stops abruptly, her eyes going wide. “Fuck. I spoiled the surprise.”
