The Glittering Court (10 page)

Terror filled the pit of my stomach as I realized what was happening. I'd dismissed Tamsin's joking comments about Alanzans and Midwinter, but here, before my very eyes, was one of those heretics conducting some arcane ritual in the night. I might not know as much about them as Mira, but I'd learned enough from whispered conversations in Osfro to know that the diamond made of twelve points was sacred to the Alanzans. It represented the twelve angels, six light and six dark.

A heretic is using our lands!
I needed to get back and report it. Quietly, I started to retreat, just as he turned toward the northern point—facing me. It illuminated his face, revealing features I knew. Features I'd seen less than an hour ago. Features I'd spent far too much time contemplating.

Cedric.

Chapter 8

In my shock, the holly slipped from my arms. I attempted to recover it—covertly—but it was too late. I'd already made too much noise and alerted him to my presence. He shot to his feet, and I considered running but knew I wouldn't get far in these skirts. In a moment, he was before me, staring down in disbelief.

“Adelaide? What are you doing out here?”

“Me? What are you— Never mind. I know what you're doing!” I backed up, swinging my small knife. “Stay away from me!”

“Put that down before you hurt someone.” There was a hard set to his face, not angry . . . just resigned. “It's not what you think.”

The words were so ludicrous, it drew me up short in my retreat. “Oh? Are you saying you're not in the middle of a heretical Midwinter ritual?”

He sighed. “No. I'm saying the Alanzans aren't whatever bloodthirsty creatures you've been told we are.”

The use of “we” wasn't lost on me. “But . . . but you're saying you're one of them?”

He took a long time in answering. A chill wind blew, ruffling my hair and freezing my skin. “Yes.”

The world seemed to sway around me. Cedric Thorn had just admitted to being a heretic.

He reached toward me. “I mean it. Will you please put that down?”

“Don't touch me!” I said, brandishing the knife higher. Behind him, the lanterns glowed with a sinister light, and I suddenly wondered if
he was going to attempt some Alanzan curse on me. I'd heard plenty about them but never expected to be the victim of one. But then, I'd never really been in this situation before with someone I thought I knew. I wondered if anyone in the house would hear me if I screamed.

“Do
not
scream,” said Cedric, anticipating me. “I swear, there's nothing to be afraid of. Everything's the same. I'm the same.”

I shook my head and felt the knife tremble in my hand. “That's not true. You believe in communing with demons—”

“I believe the six wayward angels are every bit as holy as the six glorious ones. They aren't demons. And I believe divinity is all around us in the natural world, free to anyone,” he said calmly. “Not something only accessible through the priests in their churches.”

It sounded less sinister when he put it like that, but I'd had too many warnings drilled into me.

“Adelaide, you know me. I covered for you when you ran away. I got your old cook a job. Do you really think I'm some servant of darkness?”

“No,” I said, lowering the knife at last. “But . . . but . . . you're confused. You need to stop this. Stop . . . um, being a heretic.”

“It's not something I can just stop being. It's part of me.”

“They could kill you if you're caught!”

“I know. Believe me, I'm well aware of that. And it's something I've long come to terms with.” I shivered as another icy wind passed over us. He looked me over, his face turning incredulous. “Come on, let's talk somewhere warmer before you get hypothermia.”

“Like the drawing room?” I asked. “I'm sure your dangerous and illegal beliefs will make compelling conversation back at the party! We're not going anywhere until I understand what's going on. I'm fine. I put on a cloak.”

“Then why are you turning blue?”

“You can't see that well out here!”

“I can see that cloak is just meant to cover you going from a carriage to a party. Not prancing around on the longest night of the year.
If you won't go inside, then go over there at least.” Off to the side of the clearing was a small lean-to, open on two sides, used to store tools and wood. I squeezed inside it and found it blocked some of the wind. Cedric joined me, and I started to cringe as he approached, still frightened by the memory of him in the firelit diamond, living out the tales of horror I'd heard.

To my surprise, he unbuttoned his scarlet greatcoat and pulled me toward him, enveloping me in the folds of the heavy fabric. The warmth it offered dampened my fear. I smelled the familiar cologne I liked so much and could make out nearly every detail of his face in the moonlight now that we were closer. Out of necessity, I moved closer to the warmth he offered and realized what he'd said was true. It was just him, the same Cedric I'd known for nearly a year. And that made the situation even more terrifying.

“They could kill you,” I repeated, the full weight of that hitting me.

The Osfridian ecclesiastical courts sometimes offered soft sentences to women or foreigners caught practicing the Alanzan faith. Imprisonment. Fines. But an Osfridian citizen—a man? That could—and often did—result in execution. The priests were getting zealous about keeping Osfrid pure. And the king was uneasy about a religion that advocated every member having a voice instead of one all-powerful leader.

“And that's why you need to go to Adoria,” I suddenly realized, speaking my thoughts aloud. “It's why you fought for all of this with your father and put your classes on hold, isn't it? So you can practice safely in Cape Triumph.” Although the Osfridian colonies still fell under the crown's law, a number of them had charters allowing for certain exceptions and liberties. Religion was one that came up a lot. Shipping heretics across the sea was easier than trying to stamp them out in the motherland, so long as it resulted in taxes and trade goods being sent back.

“It's not legal in Cape Triumph,” he said. “No colonies sanction Alanzan worship. Not yet.”

I tilted my head, having to do some complicated maneuvering to look him in the eye while still staying in the protection of his greatcoat. I understood now why these coats were so popular in the rugged conditions of Adoria.

“Is there going to be one?” I asked.

“Well, not strictly Alanzan. But there's a charter being drawn up for a colony called Westhaven that would allow freedom of religion to all who lived there. Us. The errant priests. And the Heirs of Uros—those who haven't already gone north, at least.”

“So you can go there and be safe,” I said, surprised to feel relief on his part.

“It's in the very early stages.” Some of that earlier melancholy underscored his words. “The boundaries and laws are still being established. It's not open to all settlers yet—only those who buy a stake in the company's initial charter. It's a great opportunity to be one of the early investors—lots of potential for leadership and immediate safety if you can get that membership. But it's not cheap.”

“And that's why you procured, isn't it?” I asked. “It wasn't enough to simply get passage to Adoria on family business. You needed money of your own.”

“Yes. But I'm going to come up short.”

I winced. “Because you recruited a Sirminican and an imposter who are going to get you mediocre commissions.”

“You're only an imposter when it comes to sewing and ‘bleaching' vegetables.”

I smacked his chest, too annoyed to wonder how he'd heard about the asparagus incident. “This is serious! You need to get out of Osfrid. You need to get to this safe place . . . if there is such a thing for someone like you.”

I couldn't say for sure, but it seemed as though he flinched at
someone like you
. “It's not just about safety. It's about freedom. Freedom to be who I am without putting on a show for everyone else.” He gestured back at the diamond. “Without having to sneak around.”

His words echoed my own, spoken months ago when I'd begged him to keep my cover. I understood his longing for freedom, even if I didn't understand the motivation behind it. I'd fought hard to get on a path that would let me seize control of my life, and it had been with his help.

“Well, you don't have that freedom yet. So why worship right on the Glittering Court's grounds?”

“I didn't expect anyone to be out here,” he said pointedly. “If it had been up to me, I wouldn't have come to the manor at all today—I'd be off worshipping with others instead of doing a solitary ritual. You're celebrating the end of exams, but for me, this is one of the holiest nights of the year. I had to come offer praise before your party started.”

It was hard for me to reconcile the brash Cedric I thought I knew with this one who was so seriously discussing spiritual matters—matters that sounded nonsensical to someone raised in the orthodox worship of the one god Uros, worship that took place inside solid churches with orderly services. When I looked away and didn't respond, Cedric remarked softly, “It's funny—I knew when this came out, others would look at me differently. Reject me. I braced myself for it. But somehow, I didn't expect it'd bother me so much that you think less of me . . .”

I glanced back up at him, taken in by the tone of his voice. What I saw in his face confused me, especially when he drew the greatcoat more tightly around us. I swallowed and moved to a somewhat safer topic. “Is there some other way to get the money and get a stake in the colony? Can't you ask your father or uncle?”

“You know my father,” Cedric scoffed. “He has no idea I'm part of this. He'd probably turn me in himself. I discovered the Alanzans when I started at the university a couple of years ago, and finally, something just made sense for me in the world. It felt so right, but I knew better than to breathe a word of it to anyone, even my own kin. My uncle wouldn't help either—he just follows my father's lead. As for other funds . . . I could find some kind of work over there, but it would take a while to make the money needed for the colony, especially if I don't
finish my degree here. I'd probably end up as a laborer, going when the colony opened to all settlers—but that won't happen right away. Anyone outside the initial charter members settling in the colony probably wouldn't get citizenship until next year.”

“Well, you can't stay here to finish your degree,” I said firmly. “Surely there must be other ways of quickly making money.”

He chuckled. “If they existed, would your family have been struggling? I mean, yes, there are plenty of get-rich-quick schemes in the New World—and some of them work. But really, the Glittering Court's one of the best. Moving any kind of luxury goods—even young women—can have big returns over there. They don't have access to the kinds of things we do here.”

“What kind of luxury goods?” I asked, trying to ignore my increased shivering.

“Spices, jewelry, china, glass.” He paused to think. “My father makes a fortune on the side selling fabric. He brings it over with the girls, and it more than covers what gets spent on your wardrobes—which he then resells for more profit once you're all married. One-of-a-kind things are valuable too. Antique furniture. Art.”

That pulled me in. “Art? What kind of art?”

“Any kind. There are no galleries over there, no great masters. And few people here go to the trouble of shipping their rare paintings or sculptures over the ocean to sell there. Too complicated. Too risky. But—if they did, there's a huge profit to be made. Damn it—I can hear your teeth. We need to go.”

He started to lead me in the direction I'd come, but I pushed obstinately back, keeping us where we stood. “Then . . . if you could sell a painting, that'd go a long way in helping earn your fee.”

He shook his head. “If I could sell the right kind of painting to the right buyer, I could more than cover my stake in Westhaven.”

“Then you need to get a painting.”

“Valuable ones aren't exactly lying around. I mean, they are in my uncle's manors, but I won't steal from my own family.”

“You don't have to steal one if you can make your own,” I said excitedly.

“I can't make any—”

“Not you.
Me.
Don't you remember that day in Osfro? The poppy painting?”

He fell silent. His eyes were dark in the dim lighting, surveying me thoughtfully. “I thought that was some kind of game.”

“It wasn't. Well, I mean it was . . . it's hard to explain. But I can do it. I can replicate all sort of famous paintings. Or if you don't want an exact duplicate, I can imitate an artist's style and claim we found some lost work. That Florencio hanging by the drawing room? I could do that easily, given enough time.”

“You want to sell a counterfeit painting in Adoria?” he asked in disbelief.

“Do you think they'd honestly know the difference?” I challenged.

“If we were caught—”

“Add it to the list of the other things we could get in trouble for.”

“It's becoming kind of a long list.” But that initial worry was giving way to a warmth and enthusiasm I knew. The Cedric I knew—the schemer and salesman. He looked down at me for long moments as the wind whistled around us. “Do you know what you're getting into by doing this?”

“No more than what you did when you protected me that night at the Osfro city gates. I told you I'd owe you a favor.”

I could feel the decision settle around him. “Okay then. We'll do this. But first—we need to get inside.”

We left the meager safety of the lean-to, both of us shivering. He doused the lanterns while I picked up my holly. Watching him, I felt that previous unease begin to stir within me as all the warnings from dour priests played through my mind. Then Cedric returned to me, his face alight and eager with a plan before us, and those warnings faded to background noise. He draped the greatcoat around me as best he could as we walked back toward the manor, huddled together.

“How in the world,” he remarked, already planning ahead, “are we going to even find a way for you to secretly paint this masterpiece?”

“You'll have to figure out those logistics,” I said. “And I'll concentrate on finding a husband so you can get that mediocre commission.”

“Right. Wouldn't want to distract you from that. I'll figure something out.”

The lights of the manor glowed before us in the night, and despite my earlier confidence, I couldn't help a bit of uncertainty. Not about the painting. I was still confident I could do that. But the logistics
would
be difficult. Getting the materials, let alone a place for me to do it, wouldn't be easy. Between that and the potential problems of even selling it in Adoria, Cedric's chances of getting the money he needed were not certain by any means.