“Look at you,” said Fernanda, tears shining in her eyes as she took me in. I wore a pink voile dress with my hair pulled back and curled. “Just like a princess.”
I immediately led them over to the food. They looked so much skinnier to me. Had I been that way too? Once their plates were filled, I brought them back to the blanket and sat near Tamsin’s family. It was hard not to smile at them. There were three other children, and Tamsin held the youngest on her lap, a girl of two or three, while the others—an older boy and girl—leaned their heads against her. I’d never seen Tamsin’s face so full of happiness and free of calculation.
To my astonishment—and Adelaide’s—one of her relatives had turned out after all. She was a buxom woman with faded gold hair and a gregarious personality. Adelaide introduced her as Aunt Sally and didn’t seem entirely thrilled that this was the relation who’d come to visit.
After introductions and small talk, I switched to Sirminican and asked, “Have there been any letters from Lonzo?” It was my last, desperate hope—that he’d reestablished communication while I’d been away.
Fernanda shook her head sadly. “No. I’m sorry.”
“You’ll find him,” said Pablo.
I wrung my hands. “What if I’ve wasted my time with the Glittering Court? A year of not searching for him! I should’ve become a bond servant and gone over sooner.”
“And then what would you have done?” Pablo chided gently. “You’d be bound to an employer for years. You couldn’t search for him. But as the wife of some wealthy man, you’ll have more freedom and influence.”
“And Lonzo never wanted you to become a bondswoman,” added Fernanda. “He didn’t want you to go there with a debt on your shoulders.”
“He didn’t want that for himself either,” I said.
“He didn’t have a choice.” Fernanda’s kind face grew hard. She’d known Isabel and had helped hide Lonzo from the authorities when he’d accidentally killed her killer. “He had to get out fast. But you? This is better for you. Only the twelve know what you’re meant for, but I know it isn’t working endless days on a plantation.”
Hearing the twelve angels invoked, as Alanzans did, reminded me that it was Fernanda and Pablo who’d met Cedric and arranged our deal. He had had the power to get me to Adoria, and my father’s name had helped me acquire Alanzan contacts in the New World. Like me, Cedric had an agenda in Adoria. He wanted to join up with a newly forming colony called Westhaven that was promoting religious tolerance. Our deal had helped him, and although I knew it was good for me, I still questioned if I’d done the right thing. I barely heard Jasper’s fine speeches about all the luxury waiting for us or how he bragged to our families about how cultured and refined we’d become. Would culture and refinement be enough to help me find Lonzo?
I pulled myself from my rumination when word spread that coaches had arrived to take the guests back to Osfro. Time had flown by, and the tears that had flowed upon the guests’ arrival now doubled at their departure. A few of the girls looked so devastated that I thought they might very well leave with their loved ones. But this display had clearly impressed everyone’s families, and I saw those same distraught girls bolstered with encouraging words from their relatives. While I didn’t believe Tamsin would actually leave, she too apparently needed a little motivation. Her face was stricken as she clung to the children, but she nodded along as her mother rested a hand on her cheek and spoke rapidly. I didn’t hear what she said, but when I walked by, I caught Tamsin saying,” . . . go get you the letters.”
I hugged Fernanda and Pablo tightly, wondering if I’d ever see them again. In some ways, they were my last connection to Sirminica. But even as I told them goodbye, my mind was jumping ahead. I found myself thinking like Tamsin. What purpose had this event served? I’d loved it. Everyone had. But it was an uncharacteristic indulgence. A break in the routine. I began to understand why that raised Tamsin’s guard so much.
And later, when my housemates and I were called back to the ballroom to assemble around Jasper, I knew for sure that Tamsin had been right all along.
“It was a true delight for me to meet the wonderful people who helped raise you,” Jasper began. “But their visit isn’t the only surprise you’re getting today.”
My unease grew.
He grinned. “I hope you’re all excited about Adoria, because we’re going there—three months earlier than planned.” When no one spoke, he added, “As a result, you will also be taking your exams early. They’ll start in one week.”
The room filled with gasps and the buzz of nervous conversation. Mistress Masterson had to hush everyone so that Jasper could continue. “I know this change in plans is unexpected. But really, it’s a reflection of your outstanding progress that we feel confident in bringing you to Adoria early. In just a couple of months, you’ll be in a whole new world—adored and coveted like the jewels you are. I know my brother will be overcome when he sees this year’s class. I have no doubt you’ll all perform excellently in your exams.” He smiled more broadly, perhaps hoping that would soothe the anxiety radiating off everyone. “I’d love to stay but must check in on the other manors as well. Cedric, however, will be coming to supervise and offer moral support during your exams.”
“Isn’t it dangerous?”
The question, spoken boldly and clearly, came from a remarkably serious Adelaide.
“Cedric offering moral support?” Jasper asked.
“No,” she said. “Making the crossing in late winter. Isn’t that still storm season?” A few girls looked even more anxious, and I got the impression Jasper was trying to hide a scowl.
“I like to think of it more as early spring. And I’d hardly make the journey myself if I thought we’d be in danger. Surely, Adelaide, you haven’t gained some sort of nautical knowledge I don’t know about, have you? Surpassing mine and that of the ships’ captains who agreed to take us?”
Rebuked, Adelaide remained silent, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced. After a few more instructions, we were sent back to our rooms, and my friends’ reactions were about what I’d expected. Tamsin was already reaching for her books, and Adelaide seemed indifferent—about the tests, at least. Sailing in storm season still bothered her.
Me? I was just restless. I didn’t know what to think. Leaving sooner meant I could get to Lonzo sooner. But it also meant my exams, my marriage, and the end of this protected world with my friends would come sooner. Troubled by a tangle of conflicting feelings, I finally left for a walk around the house. I needed space and the chance to clear my head.
I passed a couple of other girls coming and going to the washrooms or kitchen, but most were settling into their rooms for the night. Downstairs, village workers were finishing the last of the picnic’s cleanup, and I started to steer clear of them until I saw one who had a familiar stoop and baggy coat.
I approached him quietly as he stacked some crates. “Did they let you in here,” I asked, “or did you just pick the locks?”
He jumped and glanced back at me. After giving me a brief, wry look from underneath his floppy hat, he returned to his work. I could see a bit more of his face than that night outside—though still nothing substantial—and it was mostly what I’d observed before. Scraggly beard, scars, dirt. His eyes, dark and sardonic, were the same as well.
“Would you come after me with a knife if I did?” he asked.
“That depends on if you’ll tell me what the pick with the double curve is for.”
That surprised him again, enough that it warranted a second look. While the hat drooped over part of his face, the chandelier above clearly illuminated the cheek I’d seen before. It had the same weathered surface and same star-like scar. Except . . . was it in a different place? I could’ve sworn that last time, that scar sat in the center of his cheek. But I saw now that it was much closer to his ear, the one with the nick in its side. I??
?d obviously been wrong. It’d been dark and rainy that night, and other matters had preoccupied me.
“You tried to use that one?” he asked.
“I’ve used all of them,” I replied proudly. “All around the house. Still figuring out how to make a few work. But that one I can’t even find a lock for.”
“It’s for safes,” he said after a small coughing fit. “Big safes, the kind banks use. I doubt you’ve got any around here.”
“Have you broken into any safes like that?”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t be hauling away your dishes if I had. Looks like you had some sort of fancy affair going on.”
“A ballroom picnic—since it’s too cold to have one outside. Although I think it was more of a ploy.”
He had turned his face from me again but couldn’t resist that observation. “How so?”
“Jas—Mister Thorn let us spend time with our families. I think he hoped it would soften the shock of us going early.”
He stopped his work. “Early?”
“We’re leaving for Adoria in just about a month. Our exams start right away.”
“A month,” he repeated, staring off in the distance. “That isn’t a prime sailing time. It can be done, but it’s not pleasant. And sometimes it’s, well . . . never mind. Thorn must want to get a jump on other traders. What fool captain did he get to agree to this?”
His keen interest was startling. “I don’t know anything about that. Just that I have to be ready in time. Exams. Dress fittings.”
The man nodded absentmindedly and seemed to give up on his work altogether. “I have to go.”
“What about these?” I gestured to the boxes he’d abandoned.
“Someone else will come for them. Or you can feel free to jump in.” He turned toward the door. “Good luck with your tests and dresses.”
“Wait,” I called as he started to walk away. He paused. “I . . . I did what you said. About information. I used the picks to find out about Clara’s past, and you were right. She has a secret, and now I know it. And she knows that I know.”
He was angled away from me but seemed to be smiling. “So no more gossip?”
“No more anything. Information is power.”
“Well done. You’re a natural.”
“Do you want your picks back?”
“Keep them. I told you I have extras.”
“But why? Why give them to me at all?”
“Because you strike me as a woman who’s going to want to go a lot of places that other people say you can’t. These will help even the odds.” He strode to the door more confidently now, and I knew he’d no longer be delayed. “Thanks for the help,” he called back, just before shutting the door. I stared after it, mystified.
“What help?” I asked. The empty room didn’t answer back, and after a few more moments, I trudged back up to my room to prepare for the last chapter of my training in the Glittering Court.
CHAPTER 5
I SPENT THE NEXT WEEK WITH MY HEAD IN MY BOOKS. Language remained my top priority, no matter what Professor Brewer said. My accent’s implications in daily Adorian life bothered me. I needed a husband with means who’d treat me as an equal. That latter attribute could actually be harder to find, but the more options I had, the better. Likewise, the more Osfridian I appeared while searching for Lonzo, the more influence I’d exert.
Tamsin barely ate or slept. Adelaide existed in her usual way. She gave little thought to her test results and mostly just hoped she’d have a few good choices. Occasionally, she’d practice pronunciation with me, which I found incredibly useful, given her excellent speech. She in turn loved hearing me imitate the accents of other languages. I’d caved to Professor Brewer’s suggestion and learned several.
“That’s incredible!” laughed Adelaide, the night before exams began. “You sound just like this servant that used to work in our house.”
We were supposed to be studying linguistics, but she had talked me into taking a break and imitating someone from Skarsia. A native Osfridian could usually tell I was Sirminican when they heard my natural accent, but my origins were harder to pick out if I masked Osfridian with something else.
“Do a Lorandian one,” Adelaide urged, her face alight.
When I did, Adelaide fell over onto her bed giggling, but Tamsin sighed loudly. “If you two don’t care about your own studies, at least stop interrupting mine. And I grew up around the corner from a Lorandian baker. You’re a little off.”
“No, she’s not.” Adelaide sat back up, still grinning. “They have regional differences just like we do. She’s got the northwest perfectly.”
Adelaide’s smile was infectious, but I did feel bad about bothering Tamsin. She looked so serious surrounded by books. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know how much this means to you.”
“Everyone knows,” added Adelaide, turning serious. “But you’re going to kill yourself. Take a break. At least get a full night’s sleep.”
Tamsin glanced down at her work with bloodshot eyes and shook her head. “I can’t risk it. I can’t risk messing up. I have to do the best. I have to be the diamond.”
We’d be assigned gemstone ranks based on the order of our scores. It wasn’t an exact system. It was more of a fanciful theme the Thorns had come up with to present us in Adoria. They wanted to dress us up in striking colors and embellishments and use the gemstones as a guide to who the more “valuable” girls were. Some jewel ranks were flexible, but the diamond was unquestionably the top one—and girls from the other three manors would be competing for it as well.
“We think you’re already the best,” Adelaide said loyally.
Tamsin managed an indulgent smile. She fretted about the jewel ranking constantly, and we reassured her each time. “I just need everyone else to think so too. There are forty girls involved now. I at least have to make the top three. I have to meet the best men.”
“You will,” I said.
“And we’ll do anything to help you.” Adelaide’s sober mien began to turn mischievous. “Including not distracting you with Mira’s amazing accents. I guess I’ll go read up on Female Studies.”
Even Tamsin laughed at that, and although she never broke her studying that night, I noticed she seemed to smile a little more.
But the tension doubled the following morning when our first round of exams began. Even Adelaide felt the heavy mood. Cedric came to stay with us for the week and offered words of encouragement if we passed in the hall. Mostly, he tried to stay out of our way.
Some exams were written while others required performances and demonstrations. For Professor Brewer’s, we each had to stand in front of the class and read a passage aloud that we’d never seen before. I held my paper tightly, trying not to ruin it with my sweaty palms. It described the wool industry in northern Osfrid and contained several words I’d never heard. I used what I knew of Osfridian phonetics and hazarded guesses at their pronunciation. When I finished and looked up from the paper, Professor Brewer’s proud expression told me I’d done well.
After that, I felt as though a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I still worked hard on the rest of the tests. I served tea with grace. I played simple tunes on the piano. I whirled across the ballroom, counting steps in my head. I wrote essays on Osfridian culture, history, and fashion. When the week finally ended, I knew I hadn’t done everything perfectly, but my scores would be solid. I would pass. The question would be where I landed in the ranks, but that was mostly a curiosity. What mattered was getting to Adoria.
The whole house breathed a collective sigh of relief at our hard-won freedom. Smiles returned, and spirits lifted—especially when Mistress Masterson told us we could have a party to celebrate Vaiel’s Day. It was the day the orthodox church of Uros honored Vaiel, one of the six glorious angels, with feasts and parties. It was also the shortest day of the year and
was celebrated by Alanzans with prayers and rituals to Deanziel, one of the six wayward angels, as they contemplated the return of the light. Both groups treated the day as a major holiday. Each one thought the other had corrupted it.
Cedric slipped quietly away after sunset, trekking out into the snowy night to honor all twelve angels in his own manner. He made it back for dinner and the party that followed, and I let myself truly enjoy the festivities. A few of our instructors celebrated with us, and we all played games and drank sweet wine after eating. Future husbands dominated the conversation, and I didn’t mind. There was such a feeling of hope and excitement buzzing through us all. It made me believe anything was possible. I’d find Lonzo. Maybe even a husband I liked. And I’d have Tamsin and Adelaide in my life forever, no matter where our marriages took us. After seeing so much darkness over the years, I now had a world opening up before me that was filled with joy and possibility.
Moods stayed cheery in the following days as we waited for results. The exception was Adelaide, which surprised both Tamsin and me. Our friend spoke little and often seemed lost in uncharacteristically dark thoughts. She was also one of the first to race downstairs when the announcement came that our results were in. We all nearly tripped over each other as we crowded into the library, only remembering our manners when we caught sight of Jasper, Mistress Masterson, and a dressmaker named Miss Garrison standing in a line before us. We fell into neat rows, listening in respectful silence as Jasper made one of his inspiring speeches. Then, Mistress Masterson set out the list of scores with a smile, and order broke as we rushed forward.
I found my name and could hardly believe what I saw. Seventh. Seventh of forty. A rush of pleasure and pride swept over me. Apparently I’d learned more than just linguistics. After Tamsin, I had the highest score in our house, though there was a considerable point difference between us. Her score had been nearly perfect. Adelaide had landed right in the middle at nineteen, and Clara—shooting me a scowl—came in at eight.