The Glittering Court

  “Pull with me,” he barked, in a tone much different than the genteel one he’d used on me. He glowered when the beam remained obstinate. “Damn it, are you even trying, girl?”

  “Of course I am!” I yelled back.

  “You both need to go—” attempted Mira.

  “Be quiet,” Grant snapped to her. To me, he said, “We’ll do it on the count of three. Put all the strength you’ve got into it, and then dig up some you didn’t even know you had. One—two—three!”

  We pulled, and I did what he’d ordered, digging deep into my reserves. I felt like my own arms were going to get ripped off, but Grant and I finally lifted the beam just enough for Mira to slide out her leg and free herself. He helped her unsteadily to her feet. “Can you walk?”

  She gave a shaky nod, but as she moved forward, it was obvious her ankle was slowing her down. Grant and I each took one of her arms and helped her, making our coordination that much more difficult in the treacherous conditions. Winds wailed around us, mingling with the sailors’ cries. More than one yelled at us to get below, but most rushed past, uncaring if we fell overboard.

  We finally made it across the rolling deck to one of the entrances below. As we were about to enter, Mira pointed and cried, “Adelaide.”

  I followed where she indicated. It took a moment to see what she was pointing to, since nearly everything was a blur from the storm. But then, far out on the dark waters, in the haze of the tempest, I could make out what her sharp eyes had seen. The Gray Gull. It was a little farther out than it usually was from us, and from this distance, it appeared to be tossed about on the waves like a child’s toy, rocking precariously back and forth. Sometimes it tipped so far right or left that I was certain there was no way it could right itself.

  Tamsin. Tamsin was aboard it.

  Did we look the same to them? Were we flailing that much? I had no time to give it much thought. “Stop gaping! Go!” Grant ordered us. “Hurry!”

  We made it below, but all we gained was a reprieve from the sleet and wind; the ship still pitched frightfully. Grant saw us back to the Glittering Court’s common room and turned around. “Where are you going?” Mira asked.

  He barely glanced back. “To see if any other fools need help.”

  Mira watched him dash away, her eyes smoldering with anger. “Men get to do everything.”

  “You want to go back out there?”

  “I’d rather do something useful than sit around and worry about my dress being wet.”

  Miss Bradley caught sight of us in the doorway. “Girls! Get in here! Thank Uros you’re safe.”

  A number of the girls were praying to the god. A few others had gotten sick, but that was a small thing, compared to everything else going on. Mira and I found a corner and sat down, wrapping our arms around each other.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.

  She nodded, touching her ankle. “It’s sore, but nothing’s broken. A sprain, at most. I was lucky. The beam just fell in a way to trap me but didn’t crush it.”

  I held her closer, trying to hold back my tears. “You saw that ship. Tamsin’s over there.”

  “She’ll be okay,” Mira said fiercely. “She’s a survivor. She won’t let a storm stop her from landing a rich husband.”

  But neither of us could find any humor in the thought. And really, I supposed we should worry just as much about ourselves as the roiling seas continued to toss us around. We clung to each other like that for hours, each of us holding our breath when we hit one of those tremendous waves that seemed certain to capsize us. It must have been the middle of the night by then, but there was no way any of us could sleep.

  A lull came at one point, making me think we’d escaped, but it was short-lived before the storm swept us up again, plunging us into another excruciating vigil. When the heaving subsided again, returning us to a calmer pace, I didn’t trust it. I braced myself for another return of the tempest, but it didn’t come. Mira lifted her head from my shoulder and raised her gaze to mine, each of us thinking the same thing: Was it possible this was over?

  Our answer came a little while later when Cedric arrived in our room. He too was pale, obviously shaken by what we’d just endured. He scanned the room, taking note of Mira and me in particular, and then turned to Miss Bradley.

  “My father talked to the captain, and we’re out of it. Amazingly, no one was lost, and there was no damage to the ship. It’s unclear how the cargo fared, but we’ll figure that out later.” Around me, girls gave small cries of relief. “It’s still night, and as soon as the clouds clear, the captain can assess our position. In the meantime, get what rest you can.”

  He left, and many of the girls took him up on the suggestion. Mira and I couldn’t sleep. We stayed together, adrenaline pushing us past exhaustion. The seas remained calm, and I did manage kind of a hazy trance near the end. Mira, who must have been keeping track of the time in her head, looked over at Miss Bradley. Our chaperone hadn’t slept either.

  “It must be morning, ma’am,” Mira said. “Can we go above to see what’s happened?”

  Miss Bradley hesitated. I knew her better judgment counseled we stay below, but her own curiosity won out. “All right,” she said. “If we go together. They may send us back below.”

  She led us and the girls who were awake through the corridor and then up to the deck. Gray morning light greeted us, and we found we weren’t the only ones whose curiosity had been piqued. Many of our fellow passengers, including Jasper and Cedric, stood gazing around. Signs of damage and disarray were everywhere, but the ship sailed on strong and true. Sailors scurried around to make repairs and keep us moving.

  “Look,” said Grant, coming up beside us. He pointed to the west.

  Mira and I turned, jaws dropping, when we saw a dark, greenish line on the far horizon.

  “I could’ve sworn that storm blew us to the ninth hell—but if so, it apparently blew us back,” he said. “That’s Cape Triumph.”

  “Adoria,” I whispered. Slowly, a burst of joy flowered within me, penetrating the numbed state I’d been in since the storm. I turned toward Mira and saw my excitement mirrored in her. “Adoria!”

  Somehow, by the grace of Uros, we’d survived the storm and reached the New World. I glanced around eagerly, expecting to see all of my companions gleeful and dancing. A few girls shared our excitement, but almost everyone else was subdued. Grim even. That included Cedric and his father.

  I caught Cedric’s eye and was startled by the haunted look I saw there. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He nodded toward a sailor who was holding a broken piece of wood. I stepped closer, trying to identify it. It looked like part of a woman’s face. I stiffened, knowing where I’d seen it before. The Gray Gull’s figurehead.

  “Fished it out of the water,” he said.

  “No,” I said. “No. It can’t be.”

  And that’s when I noticed our sister ship was nowhere in sight. Every day of the trip, it had been in orbit. Sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, but always—always—close by.

  But not any longer.

  The first mate, standing nearby, gave a sad nod. “The Gray Gull has been lost.”

  Chapter 12

  Docking in Adoria was a blur. I stood on the deck with the other girls, watching as the shore loomed closer and closer. Vaguely, I noted I’d never seen so many trees in my life. Though Cape Triumph was one of the oldest Osfridian cities in the New World, it was clear that the wilderness still wasn’t tamed. And the trees were huge, like sentinels guarding this strange shore. Mira stood beside me, our hands tightly clenched. Her face, as I’m sure mine did, wore a haunted look.

  I should’ve felt excitement. My heart should’ve hammered with anticipation. After all, this was what I’d been waiting for—the culmination of all my planning, starting with the day I’d sent Ada away. But I could
take no joy in this moment. There was a leadenness inside of me, a coldness I was certain would never go away.

  “Raise our banner,” ordered Jasper.

  His brisk command penetrated my haze, and I slowly turned my head. He’d been as stunned as the rest of us upon discovering the wreckage of the Gray Gull. Soon, he’d shifted to anger, berating the other ship’s captain and crew for the great material and human loss he’d just suffered. That had ended when our captain curtly remarked that if anyone was to blame, it was Jasper himself for insisting upon a late-winter crossing, putting us at risk for storms like the one from last night.

  And so, Jasper had soon shifted back to his indifferent, businesslike mode, almost as though the storm had never happened. The crew raised the Glittering Court’s banner, positioning it just under the great Osfridian flag. Jasper surveyed it with satisfaction and then turned to Miss Bradley.

  “Once that’s spotted, the word’ll spread like wildfire.” He jerked his head toward where the other girls and I huddled together. “We’ll reach shore in a few hours. Make sure they’re ready.”

  Miss Bradley’s face was ashen in the gray morning light. “Ready, sir?”

  “Half of our potential buyers will be down there, waiting to see what we’ve brought. I need this group dolled up to their finest, showing off everything they’ve learned last year. What happened to the Gray Gull changes nothing.”

  “Yes. Of course, sir,” she replied, her face paling further. “Girls, you heard him. Let’s go belowdecks and get you changed. You’re a bedraggled lot.”

  The others started to move, used to following instructions, but I stood rooted to where I was. I stared incredulously at Jasper, grasping not for courage but for the right words to express my outrage. “Changes nothing? How can you say that? It changes everything! A ship full of people just died. Half our girls. My best friend. Don’t you care? Do you really expect us to just prance off this ship and start flirting and smiling?”

  Jasper regarded me unblinkingly. “I expect you to do what you came here to do—to make a match that’s beneficial to you and me. The Gray Gull is a great loss. I’m perfectly aware of that, and my business will take a huge hit because of it. The rest of you are still able to carry out our purpose here. You’ll put on the clothes I’ve bought you and walk off this ship looking as though you’re happy to be here.”

  I took a step toward him, undaunted by neither his size nor status. “Well, I won’t, and I’m not! I get that I’m here to play a part—that I’m here to be a doll you can display for the highest bidders. But nothing in my contract says I have to shut down my feelings—that I can ignore that tragedy. Maybe you should have added heartlessness to our curriculum, since you seem to be such an expert.”

  “Adelaide,” said Miss Bradley, aghast. “How dare you speak to Mister Thorn that way?”

  “You are certainly entitled to your opinion,” Jasper told me coolly. “And Uros knows you’ve never hesitated to express it. But you signed a contract taking on this purpose—and this purpose is about to begin. If you’d rather opt out and return to a workhouse in Osfrid, that can be arranged.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  I turned my back on him and stormed away, ignoring Miss Bradley’s protests. I paid little heed to where I was going, pushing past startled crew and passengers. I reached one of the entrances to the ship’s interior and moved through the labyrinthine passages until I found myself back in the cargo room with the painting. I hadn’t realized this was where I was headed, but I wasn’t entirely surprised this was where my heart led. On this voyage, it was really the only space that had been my own.

  I sank to the floor against the wall, burying my face in my hands as great sobs racked my body. Tears of anger mingled with sadness as I raged at the world. I hated the fickle winter weather that had brought us to this point. I hated Jasper for making us go on as though everything was normal. And I hated myself.

  I hated myself most of all because if not for me, Tamsin would have never been on that ship.

  I didn’t notice Cedric coming in until he was right beside me. “Adelaide.” When I didn’t respond or look up, he repeated: “Adelaide.”

  My sobs diminished, but I was still sniffling as I finally lifted my head.

  “The others are looking for you,” he said, his face grave. “Miss Bradley’s beside herself. She thinks some sailor carried you off.”

  “Then tell her I’m fine. That I needed to be alone.”

  “But you aren’t fine.”

  That previous anger surged up in me, and I shot to my feet. “Why? Because I can’t go through with this charade? Because I want to mourn, like a feeling human being?”

  He rose to stand before me. “Everyone wants to mourn. No one’s dismissing what happened.”

  “Your father is,” I pointed out.

  A pained expression passed over Cedric’s face. “He’s not . . . entirely unfeeling. But he’s dominated by his business sense. And his business sense is telling him we need to make the same grand entrance that the Glittering Court always makes. Once we reach the house, I heard him telling Miss Bradley, we’ll take a little more downtime than usual before the ball season kicks off.”

  “And then we go on like nothing’s ever happened,” I stated. “Dancing. Smiling. Dressing up.”

  “Adelaide, what do you expect? Yes, my father’s callous, but he’s right that we’re here for a reason. We can’t just call it off because of what happened to the Gray Gull.”

  I slumped against the wall and closed my eyes. “Tamsin was on that ship.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you know why?” I asked, focusing back on him. “Because of me. Because of what I did. Because of that stunt I pulled with the exams.”

  “Adelaide—”

  “I don’t regret helping you,” I continued. “I owed you. But I should have told her. I should have told her about my past and trusted that, as my friend, she would keep my secrets. But I was too proud—too stubborn and caught up in my own importance. And now she’s dead. Because of me.”

  He gently put his arms around me and tried to draw me to him. A fleeting memory of our moment with the honey cakes stirred within me, and I pushed back from him. I couldn’t deal with that, not right now.

  “You can’t think like that,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Really? Then whose fault is it? Whose fault is it she was on that ship?”

  “Hers. She made that decision, and she was just as stubborn as you. We’re all in charge of our own lives—and we have to live with the consequences of the choices we make.”

  Those tears threatened to return, and I blinked, refusing to let them have power over me. “Just like I have since I traded places with Ada. And now you’re saying I need to keep on with what I started. That I need to go catch my wealthy husband.”

  “I’m saying . . .” He paused, brow momentarily furrowed. “I’m saying I don’t want you to go to a workhouse.”

  “Me either,” I admitted. Here was that precipice, and the choice was solely on me: Grit my teeth and push on to Adoria, or skulk back to Osfrid. “Fine. I’ll go play the game and get ready.”

  I started to turn toward the door, and he blocked my way. “Adelaide . . . I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “I know,” I said. “I am too. But it can’t change anything.”

  Back in the Glittering Court’s wing, I found girls rushing between their own rooms and the common room, everyone too busy with hair and clothing to stop and speak to me. Few made eye contact, though I noted several giving me sidelong glances when they thought I didn’t see.

  In my room, I found Mira buttoning up her overdress. It was made of a rich, scarlet satin embroidered with golden flowers. Silk petticoats in that same gold flashed underneath the dress. She looked exotic and mysterious. Seeing me, she instantly stopped buttoning and sw
ept me into her arms. I leaned into her and had to fight the tears back again.

  “You have no problem doing this?” I asked. With her independent streak, I’d almost expected her to rebel too.

  “Of course I do,” she said matter-of-factly. As I studied her more closely and took in the emotion in her eyes and lines of her face, I realized that her calm tone masked a swelling of rage and sorrow. She was just better at keeping it locked down than I was. “But getting shipped back to Osfrid isn’t going to accomplish anything. I need to go forward, get to the next stage. And you do too.”

  I pulled back and nodded. “I know. And I mean . . . I really do understand what I signed on for. I want to do it. But Tamsin . . .” I started to choke up, unable to go on. Mira squeezed my hand.

  “I know,” she said. “I feel the same way. But it’s not your fault.”

  Cedric had said the same thing. I couldn’t believe either of them.

  But I followed Mira’s lead, trying to go forward and on to the next stage. I put on a gown of gray velvet, worn over a chemise and petticoats of purest white. Bows of glittering silver decorated the sleeves and bodice, and a shawl of white lace covered my shoulders. The shawl would do little against the damp, cold weather, but Jasper had been adamant we not go out covered in heavy cloaks.

  We pulled our hair up into elaborate buns and chignons, and my wavy hair allowed fine tendrils to frame my face. On board the ship, fires were limited, so those who didn’t have naturally curly hair couldn’t heat up the curling wands we usually used. Miss Bradley assured us that even if we weren’t done up to our regular level of precise detail, we were still by far and away more than what usually came ashore in Denham Colony.

  By the time we’d finished and come up to the deck, the Good Hope had nearly reached the docks. Sailors and the other passengers stopped and stared. My grief still weighed heavily on me, but I kept my expression cool as I assessed the approaching shore. Triumph Bay was a huge expanse of water, enclosed by land that “hooked” around it. Cape Triumph was located on the inside of the top of the hook. A great deal of our education had focused on the strategic location of this large port city, in an area protected by the worst of sea storms, creating safe waters for docking ships. The rest of Denham was accessible overland or by sailing along the coast. Opposite the city, on the far side of the bay, lay uncolonized lands whose rocky shore made docking more difficult.