The Glittering Court

  I eyed him warily. “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on.” He linked his arm through mine and turned us in a different direction from the cargo room. We soon entered the part of the ship used mostly by the crew. It made me uneasy, but Cedric walked with self-assurance. It seemed to make the crew members assume we were supposed to be there, and most of them were hustling about and preoccupied anyway.

  We reached an ornate door that marked the captain’s chambers. After a furtive glance around, Cedric pushed it open and hurried me inside. “I’m surprised it’s unlocked,” I said.

  “He usually only locks it when he sleeps. During the day, most crew wouldn’t have the nerve to come in.”

  “And we do?” Even so, I couldn’t help being fascinated by what I saw. The captain’s room was a combination office and bedroom and was more than twice the size of my room at Blue Spring Manor. An ornate desk immediately drew the eye to the center of the room, as did the window behind it. I couldn’t even believe there was a window in here. Gray sky and a deeper gray sea showed through it. Brocade cloth hung around a bed on the room’s far side, and other rich furnishings warmed the space as well: candelabras, leather-bound books, and more. It was incredible to believe such a room existed when the rest of us were crammed into such humble quarters.

  Another wave sent us rolling, and Cedric put a hand on the desk to steady himself. “I know you once said I could sell salvation to a priest . . . but there are some things even I can’t get a captain to barter for. So . . . we’ll just, ah, take them.”

  “We steal now?” I asked.

  “He won’t miss it. You’ll understand soon.” Cedric walked up to a wall covered in shelves, directing his gaze to a closed cupboard up by the ceiling. He glanced around, expression turning puzzled. “We want to get in there . . . but the ladder’s gone. There was a small one in here the last time Father and I ate with him.”

  I walked over to the desk’s chair, but it was bolted down. Perhaps I should’ve viewed that as a sign we needed to get out, but I was too intrigued. I had to know what would actually reduce him to stealing. Seeing no other options, I returned to Cedric’s side.

  “Okay, then. Lift me up.”

  “Hold on, what?”

  “I can climb on those bookshelves—use them for footholds. I’ll just need you to get me started. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

  “Eh, no . . .” The shocking suggestion seemed to give even him pause. “But can you climb in a dress?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” I said, thinking of childhood days when I used to get scolded for climbing trees on our country estate. “I could take it off, but then you’d have to deal with the shock of seeing me half-naked again.”

  “I’m still recovering from the first time,” he said wryly. He stood by the shelves. “Okay, let’s go. No risk, no gain.”

  He put his hands around my waist and helped hoist me high until I could place my feet on one shelf and grip a higher one with my hands. I was pretty sure he got a face full of skirts and petticoats in the maneuver, but in a few moments, he was able to let go as I maintained my hold and slowly scaled upward.

  “I’ll catch you if you fall,” he said helpfully.

  “I won’t fall. You’ve got me confused with some helpless girl who balks at dishonest behavior.”

  “My mistake.”

  Despite my bold words, I nearly lost my grip when the ship rocked sharply again. We’d had relatively calm waters so far, and today’s troubled conditions had already made normal movement around the ship difficult—let alone when attempting to climb shelving in a dress.

  I reached the upper cupboard and opened it, marveling at what I saw. Food. But not the dried, flavorless kind we consumed daily. A variety of jarred delicacies were displayed before me: dried currants, nuts, caramel brittle, lemon cookies . . . Along with them, mysterious boxes and bags contained other hidden delights.

  “Do you see a small green tin?” Cedric asked. “That’s what we want.”

  After several moments of searching, I found it. I tossed the tin down to him and began my descent. It was a little easier this time, both because I was surer of my footholds and less scared of injury the nearer I got to the floor. When I was almost there, Cedric took hold of my waist again and swung me down the rest of the way.

  “Easy,” I declared.

  He started to let go, but another wave threw us both off. He held me tighter, shifting his weight so that we stayed upright. Some of the items in the room slid around with the sudden movement, but most were bolted down. Only when things calmed did he release me.

  “Well?” I asked. “Was it worth it?”

  He opened the tin. “You tell me.”

  “Honey cakes! How?”

  “The captain has a sweet tooth, and after you said you’d kill for some, I figured I’d better take action for everyone’s safety. Want one?”

  “No, I want them all,” I said. “But let’s go back to the cargo room before we’re caught here.”

  We checked the hall before making a break for it, but again, most crew barely noticed us. They moved swiftly and deftly over the rolling floor while Cedric and I had to occasionally stop and hold the walls. When we finally completed the journey to our room, we hurried back to my art corner to divvy up our spoils.

  “You said you wanted them all,” Cedric teased when I held the tin out to him.

  “You can have some as a commission of sorts. Even though I really did all the work.”

  I plucked one out and popped it into my mouth, closing my eyes as that sweetness flooded me. “I ate these all the time back home,” I said after I’d swallowed it. “Never thought much of it. But after all that hardtack . . . I swear, this is now pretty much the best thing I’ve eaten in my entire life.”

  We quickly went through the tin, and Cedric urged me to take the last one. “I should give this one to Mira,” I demurred. “She’s the only friend I’ve got left.”

  Cedric looked up. “Oh?”

  “Well, I’m sure that’s what Tamsin would say.”

  “And the rest of us are just partners in crime.”

  “The rest are just—oh.” I felt foolish. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I mean, yes. Of course you’re my friend. I think.”

  His smile was hard to read as he stretched his limbs before leaning against the wall beside me. “I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”

  “No, you are. I’ve just never thought of men as friends before. In my life they’ve always been . . . a means to an end.”

  “Still not making me feel any better.”

  “Conquests?”

  “A slight improvement. Maybe being your conquest wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “After I got you to help me that first day? I figured you already were.” I looked over at him and saw a bit of honey near his lips. Without thinking, I leaned over and gently dabbed at it with my fingers.

  As soon as I brushed his lips with my fingertips I felt my pulse quicken and a flush of heat sweep over me. Unable to resist, I traced the edges of his lips, suddenly wondering if they would taste just as sweet as the honey.

  Cedric took hold of my hand and laced his fingers with mine. The heat in his gaze made me heady, its intensity burning right through me. He didn’t let go, and I felt as though the world around us was slowing down. I finally managed to ask, “What about me? Am I your friend?”

  He closed his eyes briefly, wrestling with some great dilemma, and then exhaled. “You are—”

  Before he could finish answering, the door to the cargo hold suddenly opened. Both of us jumped. A sailor appeared in the doorway, an older man with a shaved head and a slanted scar across his cheek. I was also pretty sure he was missing two fingers on his left hand. He seemed equally astonished to see us, and Cedric immediately straightened up, angling himself between me
and the door. He put one arm protectively around me and rested his other hand on the pocket of his coat. The painting at least wasn’t in view of the door.

  “What are you doing here?” the sailor demanded. Before either of us could answer, a smirk suddenly crossed the man’s face. “Oh. I see how it is. Getting a little alone time, eh? I guess Thorn’s blushing beauties aren’t so innocent after all.”

  It took me a moment to understand, and then I realized how it must look. Cedric’s proximity and arm around me made it look as though, at the very least, we’d been cuddling. Understanding the implications, I did, indeed, blush.

  “We’re not—”

  “She’s having second thoughts about marrying in Adoria,” said Cedric, interrupting my outrage. “She wants to turn around and go back to Osfrid. If my father finds out, I’ll be the one who gets in trouble.”

  I slipped into the act and crossed my arms over my chest. Nerves would be a lot easier to explain to Jasper than a slur on my virtue. “I told you! There’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”

  Cedric sighed dramatically. “Why won’t you just listen to reason?”

  The sailor’s eyes shifted between the two of us, and I didn’t like the way he looked at me. I also didn’t think he believed us.

  Cedric removed his hand from his pocket and reached for the opposite one, producing a small bag. He withdrew three silver coins from it and held them out to the sailor. “I’m sure you understand the need for discretion until I can talk her out of this. No need for anyone else to know.”

  The sailor didn’t hesitate to snatch up the coins. I’d been right about the fingers. “Yes, sir. I certainly do. I’m as discreet as they come. You can trust Old Lefty, that you can. I won’t tell anyone about your, uh, doubts.”

  He bobbed his head deferentially and then picked up a small crate before retreating. He gave us one last leer and then exited, closing the door behind him.

  I groaned and sank back against the wall. “Great, just great. I knew it was only a matter of time before this all fell apart.”

  “It did nothing of the sort,” Cedric replied. “He didn’t see the painting, and he’s not going to talk anyway.”

  “Really? You think so? I’m sorry, but I can’t feel that confident about trusting our fate to someone called Old Lefty.” I paused. “And why is he called that if that’s the hand missing the fingers? Why not take a positive spin and go with ‘Old Righty’?”

  “He’s not going to talk,” Cedric reiterated. “The silver will ensure that—and future silver, seeing as I’m sure he’ll approach me later wanting a bonus to further his ‘discretion.’”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had all that much silver to just throw around.”

  “I don’t . . . but some expenses are necessary. And if all of this works out, it won’t matter.”

  “Let’s hope so.” My gaze fell on the pocket of his coat. “What’s there? Why’d you reach for it?”

  Cedric hesitated and then produced a gleaming dagger. The hilt was silver, engraved with an intricate tree pattern. “A ritual blade. The angel Ozhiel’s blade. That’s the Tree of Life that connects all living things in this world to the next.”

  I was too surprised to even make a joke about him worshipping trees after all. “You were . . . going to attack him with that?”

  “If that’s what it took. I didn’t know his intentions.” Cedric grew thoughtful a few moments and then held out the dagger to me. “Here.”

  “It’s beautiful, but I don’t really want some pagan knife.”

  “Forget the religious implications. Keep it in case you find yourself in a situation where you need it.”

  “That night I got the holly, you told me to drop my knife before I hurt someone.”

  “Well, I was worried you’d hurt me. But anyone else? They’re fair game.”

  “I don’t really know how to use this,” I said, taking the weapon in spite of myself.

  “You’ll figure it out—you’ve always been good at defending yourself. But here’s a tip to get you started: If someone attacks you, just point the blade away from you and start hacking.”

  “I see. I didn’t know you had a second job as a weapons master.”

  The strongest wave we’d hit so far tumbled us into each other. A few items nearby shifted violently, and I nearly stabbed Cedric. “Probably not a good idea to have that out with all these waves,” he said.

  I tucked the blade away, knowing I’d have to conceal it carefully among my belongings lest I be caught with an Alanzan artifact. I glanced around us as the ship swayed. “Is it just a few waves? We got into this because the captain went to take the wheel, remember?”

  I could see Cedric considering this, that maybe we should’ve paid more attention to why the stateroom we’d raided had been abandoned in the first place. “I’m sure it’s—” Another jolt sent us reeling, and a crate fell, smashing beside us. “I think we should go,” he said.

  I followed him out of the cargo room as wave after powerful wave rocked us. With no formalities or care for who saw, he hurried me quickly down the corridor, taking me to the Glittering Court’s common room. Just before we entered, I pulled him back.

  “Cedric . . . you never told me. What am I to you?”

  “You are . . .” He started to lift a hand to my face and then dropped it. “Out of my reach.”

  I closed my eyes for a heartbeat as I let those words burn through me. My world swayed, and not because of the storm outside. I turned away, scared to meet his eyes, and entered the room. There, a pale-faced Miss Bradley paced, surrounded in the rest of our girls.

  “Thank Uros you’re here,” she said, upon seeing us. “I just heard from Master Jasper—we’re in some kind of storm. The captain said it came out of nowhere. We’re ordered to stay below.”

  “I need to go back out,” Cedric said.

  I’d been about to sit and shot back up. “What? It’s dangerous! Now isn’t the time to do something stupid.”

  “Adelaide,” scolded Miss Bradley, obviously not aware of the informality between Cedric and me.

  “No more stupid than usual,” he replied and disappeared out the door.

  I looked around the room, assessing my cohorts. Some stood alone, fighting their fear in their own stoic way. Others huddled in groups, crying and wailing. I did a quick head count and noticed we were one short.

  “Mira! Where’s Mira?”

  Miss Bradley shook her head, clearly distracted by her own panic. “I don’t know. We’ll just have to hope she took refuge in some other room.”

  A sickening feeling—intensified by the almost constant rolling and rocking of the ship—welled up within me. Mira wasn’t in some other room, I was certain of it. She’d probably been on one of her illicit above-deck excursions. She was resourceful—but would she be able to get below in time?

  I strode to the door, my gait unsteady. “I have to find her. I have to make sure she’s safe.” I struggled to make my voice heard above the creaking of the ship and wind wailing outside, both of which seemed to be increasing by the minute.

  “Adelaide!” exclaimed Miss Bradley. “You will most certainly not!” She took a step toward me, but a wave threw her off-balance. I moved out the door, not looking back.

  Getting through the corridor was a terrifying ordeal. The lurching of the ship kept slamming me into the walls, and my progress was slow. My whole world was disordered, and I became more aware than ever that I was in a great expanse of water in a small enclosure of wood. I’d never, ever felt such fear—not even when sneaking out of Osfro. Then, I’d risked the punishment of man. This was the wrath of nature.

  I finally reached one of the hatches that allowed access above. I climbed upward and was entirely unprepared for the mighty wind that slammed into me. It pushed me back, sharp and cold with stinging sleet. The
sky above us was a sickly greenish-gray, and everything around me was in motion. Sailors ran, following the barked orders of the captain and first mate, grabbing lines and securing loose items. I was soaked in an instant, pushed into a post by another blast of wind. A wave that seemed to reach up to the sky rolled into us, nearly turning the ship on its side. My grip on the pole held me steady, but I saw many sure-footed sailors tossed about, screaming and desperately seeking to hold on to something—anything.

  Between the haze of the blowing sleet and the stinging of my eyes, I could barely see. But then, across the deck, I caught sight of a familiar form. Mira sat on the deck, pinned by a large, broken beam that had fallen across her. She was dangerously close to the ship’s edge, giving me a sudden sense of déjà vu to all the times I’d worried about her standing by it. Without hesitation, I hurried to her—as much as I could hurry in such conditions. Most sailors didn’t even notice me in their frantic scrambling, but I got a second glance when I passed Old Lefty.

  “What are you doing, girl?” he shouted. “Get below!”

  I pointed to Mira. “Get help! You have to get it off her.”

  “You get it off her,” he snapped back. “We’ve got to keep this ship from sinking.”

  He left, and I moved swiftly to Mira’s side. Fine. If it was up to me to move it, I would do it. I knelt and tried to pull the beam away from her but couldn’t budge it. “It’s too heavy,” she yelled to me. “Leave me, and get back below.”

  “Never,” I shot back, tugging and pulling more. Splinters dug into my fingers, and my muscles burned. I managed to shift it slightly, but I was nowhere near setting her free. If it was so immobile, I supposed that meant Mira wasn’t going to fly off the ship anytime soon, but I’d feel better if she were below with everyone else. Steeling myself, I strained again, swearing I’d get it off her no matter the cost to myself. Nearing tears, I was startled when another set of hands suddenly joined me. It was Grant Elliott. I hadn’t seen him throughout most of the voyage. He’d made a couple more attempts to talk to me during our first week aboard, and after that, he’d all but disappeared.