The Glittering Court (3 page)

Once again, I found myself brimming with jealousy, but Ada still looked uncertain. No doubt she'd heard tales of danger and savagery about Adoria. And, in fairness, some weren't unfounded. When settlers from Osfrid and other countries had landed in Adoria, there'd been terrible bloodshed between them and the Icori clans living there. Many of the Icori had been driven away, but we still heard stories of other tragedies: diseases, storms, and wild animals, to name a few.

But what were those things compared to the riches and greatness that Adoria offered? And wasn't there danger everywhere? I wanted to shake some sense into her, to tell her she should take this opportunity and never look back. Surely there could be no greater adventure than this. But she'd never had a sense of adventure, never seen the promise of taking a chance on something she didn't know. That was part of the reason I hadn't picked her to come with me to Lionel's household.

After much deliberation, she turned to me. “What do you think I should do, my lady?”

The question caught me unprepared, and suddenly, all I could think of was my grandmother's words:
You'll have people making choices for you your entire life. Get used to it.

I felt myself softening. “You have to make your own choices—especially since you'll be on your own once you leave my service.” I looked over at Cedric, and for the first time, I saw uneasiness on those
striking features. He was afraid Ada was going to opt out. Did the Glittering Court have quotas to meet? Was he on the hook to come back with someone?

“Mister Thorn has made it all sound very lovely,” she replied. “But I kind of feel like some trinket being bought and sold.”

“Women always feel that way,” I said.

But in the end, Ada accepted Cedric's offer anyway because, as she saw it, she had nowhere else to go. Over her shoulder I scanned the contract, which was mostly a more formal explanation of what Cedric had told us. When she signed, I did a double take.

“That's your full name?” I asked. “Adelaide? Why don't you go by that?”

She shrugged. “Too many letters. It took me years to learn to spell it.”

Cedric seemed to struggle to keep a straight face. I wondered if he was starting to question this choice and if Ada could really be made into part of his “new nobility.”

Contract in hand, he stood up and bowed to me. To her, he said, “I have other contracts to deliver this afternoon and some errands to run at the university. You can take the day to pack your things, and our carriage will come to retrieve you this evening and take you to your manor. My father and I will join you along the way.”

“Where is this manor?” I asked.

“I'm not sure which one she'll be assigned to,” he admitted. “I'll know by tonight. My uncle maintains four for the Glittering Court, with ten girls each. One is in Medfordshire. Two are in Donley, another in Fairhope.”

They were true country houses then, I noted, placing each location on a mental map. They were each at least half a day from where we were in Osfro.

He delivered a few more last-minute instructions before making motions to leave. I offered to walk him out, which was a bit unorthodox, and took him back toward the garden I'd been in earlier. “University. So you're a student then, Mister Thorn.”

“Yes. You don't sound surprised by that.”

“It's in your manner. And your coat. Only a student would set his own fashion standards.”

He laughed. “I didn't. It's actually an Adorian fashion. I've got to look the part when I go with the girls.”

“You get to go too?” Somehow, that made this entire thing even more agonizing. “You've been there before?”

“Not in years, but—”

He drew up short as we rounded a corner and heard more sniffling. Old Doris the cook was trudging toward the kitchen, trying not to cry as she walked.

“Don't take this the wrong way . . .” Cedric began. “But there are a lot of tears in your household.”

I shot him a wry look. “Much is changing. Doris won't be going with us either. She's blind in one eye, and my cousin doesn't want her.”

He turned to study me, and I averted my gaze, not wanting him to see how much this decision pained me. In her condition, Doris wasn't going to have an easy time finding work. It was another argument Grandmama had won. I was losing my edge.

“Is she good?” Cedric asked.

“Very.”

“Excuse me,” he called out to her.

Doris turned in surprise. “M'lord?” Neither of us bothered to correct her error.

“Is it true that your services are for hire? I can understand if someone else has already hired you on.”

She blinked, her one good eye focusing on him. “No, m'lord.”

“There's an opening over in one of the university's kitchens. Four silvers a month and room and board. If you're interested, it's yours. Although if the thought of cooking for so many is daunting—”

“M'lord,” she interrupted, pulling herself up to her full but short height. “I have overseen seven-course dinners hosting a hundred nobles. I can handle swaggering boys.”

Cedric's expression remained dignified. “Glad to hear it. Go to the university's north office tomorrow and tell them your name. They'll give you more information.”

Old Doris's mouth dropped, and she looked to me for confirmation. I nodded encouragingly.

“Yes, yes, m'lord! I'll go right after breakfast's served. Thank you—thank you so much.”

“Well, that's lucky,” I told him, once we were alone again. I certainly wouldn't say so, but I thought it was incredibly kind of him to offer such a thing, let alone notice her. Most didn't. “Lucky that there was an open position.”

“There isn't, actually,” he said. “But I'll stop by and talk to the office today. By the time I'm done, they'll have an opening.”

“Mister Thorn, something tells me you could sell salvation to a priest.”

He smiled at the old adage. “What makes you think I haven't?”

We reached the garden and were nearing the exit when he halted again. An expression of disbelief crossed his face, and I turned toward what had caught his eye. My poppies painting.

“That's . . . Peter Cosingford's
Poppies
. I saw it in the National Gallery. Except . . . ?” He trailed off, face full of confusion as he took in the canvas and the pigments beside it.

“It's a copy. My attempt at a copy. I have others. It's just something I do for fun.”

“You make copies of great works for fun?” Belatedly, he added, “My lady?”

“No, Mister Thorn. That's what
you
do.”

The smile on his face was genuine, and I found I liked it better than the show ones. “Well, I'm pretty sure I could never copy
you
.”

We'd reached the front gate, and his words made me come to a halt. It was less about their meaning than the way he'd said them. The tone. The warmth. I tried to think of a witty retort, but my normally quick mind had frozen up.

“And if you won't take offense at me speaking openly . . .” he added quickly.

“I'd be disappointed if you didn't.”

“It's just . . . well,
I'm
a little disappointed I probably won't ever get a chance to see you again.” Perhaps realizing that was
too
open, he gave a hasty bow. “Farewell, and best of luck to you, my lady.”

One of the guards outside the gate unlocked it for him, and I watched him walk out the gate, admiring the way the velvet coat hugged his body
.

“But you will be seeing me again,” I murmured. “Just wait.”

Chapter 3

The plan had been forming in the back of my mind ever since Ada had tearfully signed her contract. I had a chance to outsmart the bad things looming over me. And, as my father had advised, I needed to act quickly. As more and more details became clearer, my excitement grew, and it was all I could do not to shout it to the heavens.

Mastering myself, I walked quickly—but sedately—out of the garden, back to the drawing room, where Ada sat morosely. I dodged two servants lugging my grandmother's chaise lounge and was glad Cedric hadn't seen that. It looked like we were being looted.

“Well, you must be excited,” I said cheerfully to Ada. “Such an exciting opportunity ahead of you.”

She rested her chin in her hands. “As you say, my lady.”

I sat down beside her, feigning astonishment. “It's a great thing for you.”

“I know, I know.” She sighed. “It's just . . . it's just . . .” Her attempts at self-control failed utterly, and tears ran down her cheeks. I offered her a silk handkerchief. “I don't want to go to a strange land! I don't want to sail across the Sunset Sea! I don't want to get married!”

“Then don't go,” I said. “Do something else when Grandmama and I leave. Get another job.”

She shook her head. “I signed the contract. And what can I do? I'm not like you, my lady. I can't just walk away. I don't have the means, and no other noble families are hiring—at least not at this level. I've looked.”

Walk away? Did she really think
I
could? Ada looked at my ancestry and wealth as if that was power, but really, a commoner had more freedom than me. Which was why, perhaps, I needed to become one.

“You're the Countess of Rothford. Someone with a name like that can't move among the nameless.”

“What would you do then? If you had the means?”

“If I wasn't working here?” She paused to wipe her nose. “I'd go to my family in Hadaworth. I have cousins there. They have a nice dairy farm.”

“Hadaworth's as far north as you can get,” I reminded her. “That's not an easy journey either.”

“There's no ocean!” she exclaimed. “It's still in Osfrid. And there are no savages there.”

“You'd rather work on a dairy farm than marry an Adorian adventurer?” Admittedly, this played into my plans better than I'd expected. But it sounded so comical, I couldn't help but ask, “How did you even end up being referred to this Glittering Court?”

“Lady Branson's son John attends the university with him—Master Cedric. Lord John heard him talking about how he needed pretty girls for some task his father had set him. Lord John knew you were disbanding the household and asked his mother if there were any girls who needed a place to go. When she approached me . . . well, what could I do?”

I took her hand in an unusual show of informality between us. “You'll go to Hadaworth. That's what you'll do.”

Ada gaped, and I led her up to my bedroom where other maids were sorting clothes. I sent them off to new tasks and then produced some topaz earrings from my jewelry box.

“Here,” I said, handing them over to Ada. “Sell them. More than enough to buy passage with a reputable group traveling to Hadaworth.” I'd expected her to have some greater lifelong dream, one I might not be able to afford. This was a bargain.

Her eyes widened. “My lady . . . I . . . I can't. I can't take these.”

“You can,” I insisted, my own heart racing. “I, uh, can't bear the thought of you being miserable. I want you to be with your family and find happiness. You deserve it.” That wasn't entirely a lie . . . but my true motivations were hardly so altruistic.

She clutched the earrings in her hands, and hope started to bloom on her face. “I—no. I can't. That contract! That's binding. They'll find me and—”

“I'll take care of it—no need to worry. I'll get you out of it. I can do those kinds of things, you know. But to make sure it will all, um, work out, you need to leave now. Right away. It's just after midday. Most of the traveling merchants will be finishing business and heading north soon. And then you need to disavow all knowledge of the Glittering Court. Never, ever tell anyone they approached you.”

Her eyes were huge. “I won't, my lady. I won't. Never a word. And I'll go now—as soon as I pack.”

“No, don't. I mean, don't take too much. Pack lightly. You can't look like you're leaving for good. Act like you're just going off on an errand.” I didn't want anyone noting her departure, possibly stopping her and asking her questions.

She nodded at the wisdom of my words. “You're right, my lady. Of course you are. Besides, with these, I can buy new clothes when I reach Hadaworth.”

Upon my advice, she gathered only a few small things: a change of clothes, a family locket, and a pack of Deanzan cards. She flushed, seeing my raised eyebrow at that last one.

“It's just a lark, my lady. We read the cards for fun. People always have.”

“Until the Alanzans made them a key part of their religion,” I said. “The priests are burning them these days. Don't get yourself arrested as a heretic.”

Her eyes widened. “I don't worship demons! Or trees!”

Everything else she left behind. The household was so busy getting ready for the move that no one paid us a second glance as we sneaked
around about our tasks. I took her remaining possessions—which weren't much, only a few items of clothing—back to my room and hid them while I covertly saw her off. She startled me with a quick, highly inappropriate hug, tears shining in her eyes.

“Thank you, my lady. Thank you. You've saved me from a terrible fate.”

And you may have done the same for me,
I thought.

Upon my instructions, she walked casually out the front gate as though she were just going on a market errand. I don't think the sentry on duty even noticed her leaving. She was invisible, something I couldn't even comprehend . . . yet. As soon as she was gone, I returned to my painting in the garden, trying for all the world to look as though I were going about my usual attempts to pass the time while the rest of the household labored. Whenever I could work it into conversation with other servants, I mentioned casually that Ada had left for a new position and how wonderful it was that it had been arranged for her. Everyone knew someone had come asking about her before, but no one knew the details of that conversation. Many other servants had moved on already, so her departure was nothing new.

As evening wore on, word came that my grandmother and Lady Branson had been detained for dinner while out visiting a friend. That development couldn't have suited me better, though I did have a moment of pause when I realized I might never see Grandmama again. We'd exchanged harsh words that morning, but that didn't diminish my love for her . . . or hers for me. Everything she'd done in this mess with Lionel had been to benefit me, and there would be a huge fallout when it disintegrated.

Don't falter now,
I told myself. I took deep breaths, forcing calm.
Grandmama can deal with whatever happens. And when the scandal dies down, she'll live with Lady Branson and her daughter. She'll be much happier there than under Lady Dorothy's close supervision.

Even if we were apart, there was still the chance Grandmama might very well walk through my door, some far-off day. But oh, how she'd
worry about me. I hoped that if—no, when—we met again, she'd understand why I'd had to do this. I couldn't marry into a life of luxury if it meant leaving my soul at the door.

After dinner, I complained of a headache and retired to my room. It was about the only reason I could have to be alone, and even that wasn't easy. As soon as I'd shooed my doting maids away, I changed out of the fine silk dress I'd worn for dinner and put on Ada's simpler linen one—which gave me some difficulty. I usually had maids helping me in and out of my clothes and wasn't accustomed to managing buttons without extra hands. Ada's dress was dark blue in color, with no ornamentation. The white chemise I put on under it was equally plain. I'd never truly noted until then how drab my ladies' clothing really was. Still, it would help conceal me, as did the gray hooded cloak I wore over it. I packed the rest of her clothing into a small satchel and then hurried down a narrow servants' staircase little used this time of night. After ascertaining no one was around, I slipped out a back door.

That put me in the courtyard by our stables, which were now darkened with twilight's shadows. Servants bustled about here, winding things down for the night, and no one noticed me as I huddled in the darkness. This was the most dangerous part of this endeavor, the part where it could all fall apart if anyone got a good look at me. I had to walk across the courtyard, toward the stable's back gates. The spring weather had cooled considerably, and I wasn't the only one with a hood. I just prayed no one would take a look at my face as I walked.

The stable boy guarding the back gate was busy whittling, his attention turned to anyone trying to get in, not out. If he noticed me, he saw only the back of one of the servant girls who came and went about the household's tasks. Once I was out of the enclosure, I hurried around the corner of our home, out toward the busy thoroughfare of our front street. Traffic on it had slowed since earlier in the day, but there were still horses and pedestrians out for the evening, their steps clattering on the cobblestone street. Most didn't give me a second glance. I was a lady's maid, not a lady.

An errant priest of Uros stood on a corner, preaching against the Alanzan heretics. He pointed accusingly at me, his finger right up in my face. “You wouldn't worship the sun and moon, would you, girl?”

There was a fanatic, feverish gleam in his eyes, and I was so astonished that I froze before him.

“You! Stay right there!”

I gasped as two city sentries came running toward me. I was barely across the street from my home! How had they known to come for me already?

But it wasn't me they were after. They seized the priest, one holding the thrashing man while the other bound his wrists. “How dare you lay hands on one of Uros's chosen!” bellowed the priest.

One of the sentries snorted. “You're no true follower of Uros. See how strong your faith is after a few nights in prison.” He dragged the shrieking priest away while the other sentry turned to me. I quickly looked down, feigning shyness, so he wouldn't see my face.

“You all right, miss? Did he hurt you?”

“I'm fine. Thank you. Sir.”

He shook his head in disgust. “I don't know what the world's coming to when heretics walk the street. You'd best get back to your master's house before it gets darker.”

I bobbed my head and quickly walked away. The religious atmosphere was dangerous in Osfrid these days. These radical wandering priests might claim to worship the one god Uros, but their practices challenged the established church almost as much as the Alanzans and their fallen angels. The orthodox priests and officials were no longer as tolerant as they'd once been, and it took very little to make you suspect.

It was a relief when I reached the Glittering Court's carriage. It was two blocks away in the opposite direction, exactly as Cedric had told Ada it would be.

It was all black, sleek and shiny, with the Glittering Court's seal on the outside: a circle of golden chain with little jewels interspersed between the links. The carriage was of modest size, not nearly as grand
as the one my grandmother or I rode in, but I supposed it would be extraordinary to a girl who knew no different. I walked around to the front where a driver sat waiting over four white horses. I called a greeting to him, loud enough to make my voice heard over the noise from the street but hopefully not enough to attract the attention of the great house on the other side of it.

“Hey,” I called. “You're here to pick me up. My name is Adelaide.”

I'd decided on that when I concocted this plan. I'd made Ada disappear and received her promise that she wouldn't mention any of this, but as far as the Glittering Court officials knew, they had the right girl. Calling myself Ada didn't seem right. What I was doing already felt like theft, but I certainly couldn't go by my own name anymore. So, I'd use the beautiful name Ada had been given at birth, the one she had trouble spelling. I felt like I deserved it, just as I deserved this opportunity that terrified her.

The driver gave a curt nod. “Yeah, well, hop in. We're meeting Master Jasper and Master Cedric along the way.”

Master Cedric.

As much as I'd enjoyed looking at him, seeing him now could most certainly create a problem in this brilliant plan I'd created . . . but I'd have to deal with that later. For now, I had other issues.

“Hop in?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips. “Aren't you going to come down and open the door for me?”

The man gave an amused snort. “Listen to you, acting like a lady already. You aren't a ‘jewel' yet, missy. Now get in—we've got two more stops to make, and one's by the Sirminican district. I don't want to be out
there
any later than I have to. Those Sirminicans will rob you blind if you're not watching 'em.”

I fumbled with the coach's handle and finally figured out how to open it. Ungracefully, I half-stepped, half-tumbled into the carriage's interior, without the benefit of a stool or pillow offered by a servant. Inside, the carriage was dim, lit only by what light made its way in through the smoky windows. As my eyes adjusted, I could see that the
cushioned seat I sat on was made of a burgundy velvet of middling quality.

Without bothering to make sure I was comfortable, the driver set the horses on their way, causing me to jerk forward. I gripped the walls for support, staring out the darkened glass as the lights of my family's home moved farther and farther away. I held my breath as I watched the retreating house, expecting a group of servants to come tearing out at any moment, swarming the carriage until it stopped and released me. No one came, though. The house went about its nighttime duties, soon vanishing into the night. Or maybe I was the one vanishing. Maybe I would be forgotten quickly, my face and voice gone from the minds of those I'd once known. The notion made me sadder than I'd expected, and I had to shift my focus back to the plan.