Winterdream by Chantal Gadoury

Author:Chantal Gadoury [Gadoury, Chantal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Parliament House
Published: 2018-11-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The glow of the sunset streamed brightly into the room when I opened my eyes later that evening. I found that I was alone; the only trace of the Nutcracker’s presence was the crease he had left in the pillow beside me. Long, silk curtains had been drawn from the windows, which meant that someone had come to wake me.

After sliding my fingers over the smooth bed sheets, I pushed myself up onto my elbows. My body ached, rebelling against every part of me that stretched or moved. I groaned, though I was well-rested, and my stomach grumbled. I longed for a meal, and as the decadent scent of warm, sweet bread filled the room, I only felt hungrier.

I forced my feet to the floor and yawned loudly.

Just as Irina promised, a new gown had been laid out for me, along with my shoes from Mother Ginger. I ran my fingers across the fabric when a short, slim woman wearing a cream-colored gown entered the room, carrying a serving tray. Her hair was bright gold, pinned down into several small curls.

“Good evening,” she said with a smile. “I’ve just come to wake you!”

“Oh!” I replied, surprised. The Nutcracker had said he’d be sure to have someone wake me for dinner. The woman nodded as she set the tray down onto a small side table.

“I’ve brought a few things to eat, too,” she explained, gesturing to the enormous arrangement. “Dinner can be a little. . . untimely. And I thought it would be safe to bring you something before you made your way to the dining room.”

I scooted to the side of the bed, taking in the sight of pastries filled with different fruit compotes. Steam rolled from the porcelain tea cup.

She turned to me with a smile. “Can I get you anything else?”

I slid my feet to the ground and adjusted the wrinkles in the dress I had fallen asleep in. Lotte had been the one to adjust the ties of the dress; I wondered if I would need the maid’s help or if I’d be able to adjust it myself. She must have seen the apparent debate written on the creases of my forehead, for she walked toward me with a small laugh.

“Let me help you,” she said, touching my elbow lightly.

I brushed my hair over my shoulder and turned, biting my bottom lip.

“My name is Marzipan.”

I paused, turning to only look at her from over my shoulder. “Marzipan? Like the sweet?”

Again, she giggled and began to undo the laces of my wrinkled gown. “I know. How very strange for me to be named after a dessert.” She pulled at the strings. “And you are called Clara. Or do you prefer Lady Clara?” she asked.

“Clara,” I said quickly. “Just Clara will do.”

“Just so, then, Clara,” Marzipan replied with a chuckle as she helped me to step out of the soft, pink dress. After she folded it and left it on the side of the bed, she lifted the new gown that had been laid out and brought it to me.

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