The Glittering Court (38 page)

I hugged her again. “Thank you.”

“How'd it go here?”

“Let's just say . . . not as successful as your task.”

We caught Mira up over lunch, and then the proceedings resumed. Silas Garrett gave a wonderfully impartial testimony that didn't favor either side but did throw a couple of questions up about Warren's story. I didn't know if it'd be enough, though. Elias gave a predictably convoluted statement after that, and then the tribunal adjourned for the day. Cedric and Warren were escorted out separately, in different directions, and as luck would have it, Cedric was led toward the opposite side of the room and Warren was taken in my direction.

He paused in the aisle next to me, acting as though he needed to adjust something on his jacket. “How sad this must all be for you, Lady Witmore. First you traded security and a title to play house with scullery girls. When you got a chance to salvage your life from that downfall, you threw that opportunity away too for some romantic daydream. And just when you thought things might finally be going your way,
poof
!” He held his hands outstretched. “That crumbles away too. So much you've given up. So much you've endured. And when all is said and done, the only thing you'll walk away with is . . . well, nothing.”

I clenched my fists, lest he see how I trembled. I couldn't let him
know how his words had struck me. Because in many ways, he was right. I'd made sacrifice after sacrifice in my life over the last year until I was left with one thing, the only thing that mattered: Cedric. And now they were threatening to take him too.

I met Warren's gaze unflinchingly. “Just as you'll have nothing when you walk to the gallows. I'll see you hanged for what you've done to my loved ones. I know you had something to do with Tamsin's disappearance.”

I saw the slightest glint of surprise in his eyes, but whether that was from shock at being found out or confusion at the accusation, I couldn't say. The delay had gone on too long, and his escorts moved him along.

“There are only a couple more witnesses tomorrow, but I'm sure it'll all be the same,” I said as Mira and Aiana walked with me back to town later. Not being able to talk to Cedric had been the final blow of the day.

Mira slung her arm around me. “Stay strong.”

They ate dinner with me at Aiana's place, and then Aiana said she had to take Mira back to Wisteria Hollow before curfew. “I'll be out on my own errands after that. Stay inside, and keep the door locked. There's no telling what this may have stirred up.”

I hated to see Mira go, but there was a good chance her absence had been noted. She'd done more than enough for me today, and I didn't want her to get in trouble.

“Your contract's coming up,” I said. “What will you do?”

She shrugged. “Something.”

I cast a glance over toward where Aiana had gone in her bedroom. “Is the reason you haven't chosen someone . . . are you and Aiana, I mean . . .”

It took Mira a few moments to understand, and she shook her head. “No, no. Aiana's been good to me . . . a, uh, mentor of sorts. But I like men. I just don't like any one of the ones I've met.”

Seeing as I'd already embarrassed myself, I figured I should go the
whole way. “Before you came to Blue Spring Manor, did anything ever happen between you and Cedric?”

She seemed to find that even more incredible. “No. Why would you think that?”

I flushed. “He's always liked you. And he did so much for you.”

Mira's smile was gentle. “He did so much for me because he's a kind man. And we'll find a way to save him.”

They left me alone with my whirling thoughts. I'd come up with some brilliant, outlandish idea—like breaking in and rescuing Cedric—and then the reality would hit, plunging me into despair. It was mentally exhausting, and I'd decided to go to bed when a knock sounded at the door.

Remembering Aiana's warnings, I nearly made no response at all. Then, I crept forward and asked, “Who's there?”

“Gideon Stewart.”

“I don't know who that is.”

“I'm a minister—from Grashond. I helped bring your friend Tamsin back.”

Memories of the day of her return stirred in me. Most of the Grashond delegates had blurred together, but the more I thought about it, the more his name began to sound familiar. I was still reluctant to open the door.

“What do you want?”

“I might know a way to save Mister Thorn. It involves the colony of Westhaven, but I'd need your help.”

At the mention of Westhaven, I couldn't resist. I opened the door and found the handsome blond man who'd come to Wisteria Hollow. He wore the same drab attire as before. After casting a quick glance down the hall, I waved him in and shut the door.

“Well?” I kept my arms crossed over me. Religious purist or not, I wanted to be cautious.

“I was at the courthouse today . . . and I'm very sorry for what you're going through,” he said. “If it makes you feel better, I don't
think they'll be able to rule on the dispute. Too many contradictions, no proof. With no one killed, they'll write it off as a brawl.”

My heart sank. Of course I was glad that meant Cedric wouldn't be implicated, but I hated the thought of Warren going unpunished.

Gideon made a face. “Unfortunately, I think the Alanzan charge will hold. Even without actual worship, those artifacts are damning. I've seen men convicted for far less. Those in power will accept that witness's statement, and I'm sure Warren Doyle has enough sway to get the full punishment enforced—probably immediately.”

“Death.” I sank into the chair. I was on a precipice with Cedric again. If he died, I would fall and fall forever. “So what miracle can you pull out? Do the Heirs have some special power?”

He gave me a small smile. “No. But the colony of Westhaven does. Those who've bought a stake would technically be citizens of it. The reciprocal privilege between the colonies allows citizens from outside to practice certain things, even if they're illegal in that colony—so long as they don't break any other laws. This would apply to Cedric. The fight in Hadisen had nothing to do with the Alanzans.”

“That's great,” I said, “except Cedric's not a citizen of Westhaven. Though it hasn't been for lack of trying.”

“There are representatives from Westhaven in the city right now, and they've been selling stakes. If Cedric was able to purchase one, and you found an attorney to go over the paperwork and, how shall I put this, modify the date, Cedric could claim retroactive protection as a citizen of Westhaven. Assuming you could find that kind of attorney. I suppose in this town, you can find anything.”

I sat up straight, too shocked by this possibility to even reflect on a righteous minister suggesting something so illegal. “I might . . . might know an attorney who would.”

Gideon brightened. “Then you just need to buy the stake.”

“There's no ‘just' about it. I know how much those cost. And we don't have—” I groaned as the answer hit me. “I know where I can get the money. Maybe. But it won't be easy.”

“I'm sure it won't. I wish . . . I wish I could help you on that front. But I've already spent my savings buying my own stake.”

I regarded him in astonishment. “Why would a minister from the Heirs of Uros buy a stake in a religiously tolerant colony—one that's already getting a reputation for wild ways?”

He gave me a wry smile. “Because this minister isn't so sure he agrees with his brethren anymore.”

“Is that why you're sympathetic to Cedric?” I asked softly.

“Somewhat. If someone's beliefs aren't hurting others, I don't believe they should be punished for it. And . . .” His face fell. “You were her friend. She spoke of you often. I couldn't help her, but maybe . . . maybe I can help you.”

“Tamsin,” I said. Familiar tears stung my eyes.

“I'm so sorry. I did what I could to find her—to find out what happened to her that night . . .” He looked genuinely distraught, melting my earlier wariness.

“It's okay,” I said. “There's nothing any of us could have done.” But as I reflected on the bizarre inconsistences around Warren's story about what had happened to Tamsin, I wondered if that was true.

“I don't know if that's the case, but I'll have to come to terms with that later.” He shook off his grief and focused on me again. “For now, tell me how I can help.”

I thought about it. “Can you get me a horse?”

“I have one downstairs. I rode it out from Wisteria Hollow.”

“Well, that's the first thing that's worked out for me in a while. Give me a few minutes.” I left him to change out of the dress and into my split skirt and blouse. They'd been laundered and looked a little better. As expected, I also found various weapons hidden around Aiana's home and helped myself to another knife. Then I penned a quick note and gave it to Gideon with instructions to deliver it to Nicholas Adelton.

“He's the attorney who'll help?” Gideon asked.

“I think so.” I considered. “I hope so.”

We went downstairs and found a perky mare tethered in front of the tavern. Gideon patted her. “Her name is Beth.”

I couldn't help a laugh. “Lizzie and Beth. I can't escape my past.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just get that letter to Mister Adelton.”

Gideon scrutinized me nervously. “You aren't going to do anything dangerous, are you? Should I . . . should I come with you?”

“No, I'll be fine,” I said, hoping that was true. “Just going for a short ride.”

My short ride, of course, was actually a two-hour one outside the city to Walter's contact, the one holding my painting. Dusk was falling, and I rode out with my hat pulled low, hoping it wouldn't be immediately obvious I was a woman. Denham was an established colony and certainly not lawless, but it had its dark element just like any other place. And until the world changed drastically, a woman riding out alone in the night was at risk.

But as I left the city limits and rode down the darkened road, I couldn't let the possible threats slow me down. Fear was only another enemy, and I had far too many others to worry about just now. Cedric's salvation was within my grasp, and I would not be defeated.

Mira had given me back the sheet with Walter's names and locations, and I carried it now. I also had a letter he'd written, authorizing his contact to yield the painting. It was a two-hour trip south, then back to the city, and then another two hours up north to the buyer. I'd be out all night, and there was a good chance I might not make the trial's start tomorrow. I urged Beth on, knowing I risked exhausting her.

Amazingly, I encountered almost no one on the road. Those I did pass didn't give me a second glance. It was deep night when I rode into Idylwood, a sleepy village that showed the promise of eventually becoming a flourishing town. Walter's contact was the town's blacksmith, and I found his home easily. I tied Beth up near a trough, which she drank from gratefully.

The blacksmith was surprised to see me—even more surprised that
I was a woman. He read the letter and handed it back with a shrug. “I guess Walter employs all types now. Come with me.”

He led me to a locked shed in the back that, when opened, revealed mostly a lot of junk. I worried what shape my painting would be in. He moved things aside and finally pulled out a cloth-wrapped, rectangular object. I unwrapped it and examined it by the light of my lantern. It was my painting, in exactly the same condition as I'd last seen it in Wisteria Hollow's cellar.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“Very. Thank you.”

I wrapped it back up in its padding, and he helped me tie it to the back of Beth's saddle. It wasn't ideal for transportation, but I felt confident the canvas wouldn't tear. A little bouncing wouldn't hurt it much.

Beth and I rode off back on the black road to Cape Triumph. A quarter moon offered little guidance, and I was glad this was a well-worn and traveled road. When I reached the edge of the city, I ended up circling around it. Taking the extra time seemed like a better choice than being recognized.

The road north was narrower than the one south, surrounded by thick woods that made the way even darker. I knew I should go slowly in case of unseen obstacles, but I was growing uneasy about the passing time. It had to be after midnight, and I still had a lot of traveling to do—not to mention finalizing the paperwork back in Cape Triumph. There were only a few more witnesses in the trial. I didn't know how soon the tribunal would make a ruling. It was possible the paperwork might overturn a conviction. But I knew sometimes, especially for heretics, punishment was enacted immediately. I couldn't spare the time.

I urged poor tired Beth into a hard gallop. For all my fine talk about being a great horsewoman, what I was doing was incredibly foolhardy. That was confirmed for me only a few minutes later when Beth suddenly stumbled, nearly throwing me and the painting from her back. She managed to catch herself just in time but came to a
quick stop, refusing to go further. I dismounted and tried to see what obstacle she'd tripped on. As it turned out, she'd lost a horseshoe.

“Damn it,” I cried into the night. An owl answered in return. Further examination showed Beth didn't seem to have damaged her leg or hoof, but there was no way I'd be able to ride her at the earlier rate. And from her exhausted appearance, she probably wouldn't have let me do it much longer anyway.

I got back on her. Even at an easier trot, every equestrian instructor I'd ever had would chastise me for this. It risked further injury. I hoped that wouldn't happen—just as I hoped the painting's buyer would sell me a horse.

But Beth refused to budge. I was finally forced to go on foot, leading her behind me. Each step down the road was agonizing—not because of the physical toll, but the mental. I was weary and frustrated. The moon was traveling farther and farther across the sky, and all I could think about was how each delay put Cedric at risk. At least two hours had passed when I heard a thunder of hoofbeats behind me. I instantly became guarded, not knowing if this would be a help or hindrance. At the rate the riders were coming, there'd be no chance to divert into the woods, so I simply moved to the side and waited for what was to come. I put my hand on my knife.