The Glittering Court (9 page)

I shrugged. “From her.”

“The last time she brought out the violin, you couldn't even hold the bow straight!”

“Tamsin, I don't know. Sometimes I get anxious and mess things up. What's it matter? You've been doing great.”

As hoped, that distracted her. “I have,” she said proudly. “I answered all of those religious and political essays for Mister Bricker perfectly.
And
I know I got almost everything on the Adorian culture and society test right too. That's one of the most important, you know.”

I smiled, genuinely happy for her. “You'll get your diamond rank in no time.”

“
If
I can beat out the girls in the other manors. I know I'm the best here.” She said it as a fact, not even bragging. “But who knows about the other three houses?”

I wasn't worried for her, particularly as the rest of the exam days went by. That zeal and intense resolve I'd seen since the first day were fully turned on, and she threw herself into each exam. When she returned to our room each night, she'd fight her exhaustion and study more.

After the tests ended on the third and final day, we were all worn out, even those who hadn't studied as much as Tamsin had. Everyone was weary and drawn, and I gratefully went to bed as soon as we were excused from dinner. Neither my roommates nor I said much of anything, choosing instead to drop into sleep with a sigh of relief.

The next morning was a different matter. Rested and free of exams,
we were hit by the truth: We had done it. We'd completed what we set out to do when we'd joined the Glittering Court. We didn't have our results yet, but the triumph of our accomplishment was heady. Mistress Masterson gave us the whole day off, with plans for our first big celebration that night in honor of Vaiel's Day, greatest of the winter holidays. We'd all been assigned specific tasks to ready for the party, and none of us minded applying our hard-won abilities.

“I love Vaiel's Day,” Tamsin said as we put on our day dresses. “The food. The smells. The decorations. Seems a shame we're doing it all so last-minute.”

She was right. Usually, winter festivities started weeks ahead of the angel of wisdom's holy day, allowing the cheerful atmosphere to last most of the month. “Well, if Jasper hadn't moved up our timeline, our celebrations wouldn't have gotten shoved aside for his profit,” I reminded her.

“At least we get some sort of celebration. You know those poor heretics of Uros—the barefoot priests? They don't celebrate at all. Say it's idolatry. But maybe nothing at all is better than what the Alanzans do. Who'd want to be out there worshipping trees in this weather?”

“
Among
the trees,” corrected Mira. “Vaiel's Day is Midwinter for them—the longest night of the year. The Alanzans pray outside to Deanziel for insight and then will give thanks tomorrow to Alanziel for a return of the sun and the days getting longer.”

I regarded her with some surprise. It wasn't often she pulled out a fact I didn't know, but then, she'd also probably met real Alanzans. Like so many areas, her religious beliefs were something I never inquired about. She attended orthodox services to Uros with us, which was really all that mattered.

“Doesn't matter what they worship. It's all pagan superstition.” Satisfied with her appearance, Tamsin turned toward the door. “Well, time to get to work. I can't wait until we have other people to do this for us.”

Most of the girls—like Tamsin—had been assigned to cooking the formidable feast that Mistress Masterson had planned. A few were in charge of games and music, and I was on decorating duty, along with Clara, of all people. She and I managed the task by splitting the rooms and staying out of each other's way.

When it came time to decorate the drawing room, I was surprised to find Cedric and Mira talking inside. He'd made himself scarce during our exam days.

“You're respectable today. Back to being a proper Adorian,” I said. He'd been dressed that way at our first meeting but often slipped into Osfridian styles for informal occasions. His overcoat, made of a heavy blue fabric edged in gold, hung nearly to his knees, as opposed to the shorter ones more common here. His boots were also higher than those of continental fashion trends. He didn't just look proper. He looked dazzling—not that I'd ever tell him. “It's like you've been to finishing school.”

“Well, some people might have trouble dressing themselves, but I never have,” he said. “We'll be on our way in another month, so I figured I should look the part. My father and I need to be nearly—though not quite—as grand as the rest of you if we're going to show we're legitimate brokers. It's all about image, or so my uncle says.”

In the months that had passed, I'd given little thought to Clara's malicious accusations about Cedric and Mira. Now, having walked in on the two of them talking, my curiosity was piqued. “Are you distracting Mira from her tasks?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

Mira exchanged a knowing smile with him. “Cedric is explaining a game called hexbones to me. Mistress Masterson put me in charge of entertainment, but I don't know many Osfridian games.”

“Hexbones?” I asked incredulously. “That's just a dice game stableboys and messengers play.” I bit off any other words as Cedric shot me a sharp look.

“It's a game played by
many people
,” he amended. “Most girls here grew up with it. The elite classes don't play it, true, and it's smart of
you to be thinking ahead like that. But I'm sure for one night we can all relax a little.”

“Yes, of course,” I said. It'd been a while since I'd slipped like that. “But where are you going to get the dice? You think Mistress Masterson has a spare set?”

“Oh, I think Nancy Masterson might be more of a rebel than we think.” Although he still smiled, Cedric had an unusual air about him tonight. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but he seemed almost melancholy—certainly not a mood I generally associated with him.

“Did you call for me?”

Mistress Masterson stuck her head in the doorway, having just been passing by at that moment.

“Ah, no,” said Cedric. Mira and I tried not to laugh. “Adelaide was just discussing her plans for the room and was hoping you'd approve.”

Mistress Masterson looked at me expectantly, and I tried not to glare at Cedric for shifting the focus to me. Quickly, I mustered a plan. “Uh, candles in all the windows and those gilt-edged blue runners for the tables. And if I move that sofa over there, it'll open up that corner for conversation. It'd be nice to get some of that spiced incense too.”

Mistress Masterson nodded in approval. “Sounds like you've got it well in hand, dear.”

“And holly,” I suddenly said, looking at the mantel. “We should've gotten holly to make boughs. We always used to do that for winter parties in the capital.”

“That would've been nice,” Mistress Masterson agreed. “I didn't even think about it with everything going on. Too late to get any now—the sun's almost down.” She nodded toward a darkened window and, seeing my disappointed face, added, “Don't worry. Clara had the foresight to go get fresh ivy and make some garlands. That's almost as good.”

That only made things worse, knowing that Clara had one-upped me. Mistress Masterson left, and Mira gazed at the window for long moments before turning to Cedric. “Weren't there some things you needed to take care of?”

“Yes . . . I should do that soon.”

When he made no motions to leave, Mira added, “You'll have plenty of time before the party. Everyone's very busy right now.”

“Yes . . . yes.” His smile returned, but I could see a tightness behind it, reinforcing that odd sense I'd gotten from him. “I'll take care of that now.”

He started to walk out of the room and then paused by me. “Here.” I smiled as he pressed a set of dice into my hand.

“Of course. Of course you have a set.”

“It's my spare, actually. We play all the time at school.”

“Are you any good?” I asked. “Never mind. I already know you are. It's a game that involves reading people and manipulating them.”

“Exactly,” he said. “You'd be a natural.”

Despite that jest, he still seemed tense. “He's acting very strangely,” I told Mira when he was gone.

“Is he? I don't know him well enough to know.”

“Don't you?” I asked pointedly.

Her face was completely innocent as she shook her head. “I'm sure everything's fine. Do you want me to help you move the sofa before I leave?”

She and I lugged it across the room, both of us surprised at its weight. “I'm starting to agree with Tamsin,” I said. “It'll be nice to have flocks of servants to do this for us.”

Mira grinned back. “We'll see. I don't know if I did well enough to get a husband with
one
servant, let alone flocks.”

“Not like Tamsin,” I said.

“Not like Tamsin.” She laughed. Her face grew serious. “But I hope I did well enough to get . . . I don't know. A choice. Or at least someone I can respect.”

“Still want to buy out your contract?”

She helped straighten the sofa. “I think Tamsin was right about that. I'd need some sort of job on the side—and I'm guessing that's not allowed.”

“Um, yeah. Jasper would probably frown on that kind of thing. But it won't matter. I know you'll have your pick of amazing men. And if you're worried about your scores, you can always retake the tests.”

“Right. They were
so
fun the last time.” She stepped back and joined me to survey our work with the sofa. “Do you need anything else before I go?”

“Not unless you can make some holly materialize,” I said wistfully. “It just doesn't feel like winter without it.”

“I wouldn't know, since we don't have it in Sirminica, but I think this room will be fine.”

After she left, her remark made me feel worse—as though I owed her holly for a true Osfridian experience. When I finished with the drawing room, Mistress Masterson released me from my duties early to go get ready for the party. Neither Tamsin nor Mira had returned yet. I put on my best dress, a full-skirted gown of sky-blue brocade scattered with pink flowers. A pink chemise was worn under it, peeping through the slashed sleeves and around the boned bodice. As I laced it up, I thought ahead to what it would be like when we switched to Adorian fashions. The skirts were slimmer and more maneuverable, the bodices less structured.

I wandered downstairs, looking for ways to help. No one needed me, and Cedric was gone. I'd kind of wanted to brag to him about having laced up the dress in under a minute. So, I busied myself by going over my decorative handiwork but found no flaws in it—except the absence of holly. A check of the clock told me I had an hour until dinner, and I made an impulsive decision.

I traded my delicate party shoes for sturdy boots and donned a wool cloak. Even so, I wasn't prepared for the blast of cold that hit me when I went outside through one of the back doors. I questioned my decision for a moment, watching as my breath made frosty clouds, and then plunged forward.

I knew what Mistress Masterson would have said about me traipsing alone through the woods at this time of day. My grandmother
would have said the same thing. But I'd been all over Blue Spring's property in my time here, taking walks and picnics with the other girls. No dangerous animals roamed the grounds, and we were too far out of the way to have any vagabonds coming by. The only person I was likely to see was the kindly old groundskeeper.

It was the shortest day of the year, and sunset had come early. The light was almost gone from the western horizon, and the rest of the sky already glittered with stars. A rising moon and my own memory of the way to the holly trees made navigation easy. The cold was my biggest obstacle, and I regretted not bringing gloves. A thin coat of snow crunched softly as I passed over it.

I found the holly trees where I remembered, on the farthest edge of the property. Here, the grounds gave way to what was left of the wilder, original forest. Those who'd built Blue Spring long ago had cleared the trees around the house, replacing them with vast manicured lawns and ornate specimen plantings. It was a common practice among fashionable estates, and these sorts of wild woods were becoming scarce.

I'd had enough sense to bring a knife, and set to cutting off branches of holly. I wouldn't be able to fashion them into a true wreath, but I'd have enough to make some nice arrangements for the mantels that would certainly outdo Clara's ivy. I'd just about finished when I noticed something in my periphery.

At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I could see fairly well out here. The moon reflected off the snow, and stars spilled across the sky. Squinting at what had caught my eye, I wondered if I was seeing just another reflection. But no—this wasn't the pale, silvery light of moon and snow. This was warmer. The golden light of a flame.

It was coming from even farther into the old woods, in a copse of hazel and oak. I crept forward to investigate. Most likely it was the groundskeeper. If not, and it was some trespasser, I could easily sneak away without being seen, and report it. Again, I knew Mistress Masterson and my grandmother would have a lot to say about this reasoning, but I didn't care.

Clutching my holly boughs and knife, I crept forward, keeping to the shadows and concealment of the trees. As I drew closer, I saw that there were actually twelve lights: tiny lanterns in the snow, arranged in a diamond formation in a clearing canopied by the skeletal branches of ancient trees. Standing in the middle of the diamond, facing the most venerable of oaks, was a man in a billowing greatcoat that glowed scarlet in the lantern light. He knelt down, facing the diamond's eastern point, and bowed to it, murmuring something I couldn't make out. Then he knelt to the south and repeated the ritual.