Midnight Jewel

by Richelle Mead

  “It won’t be the same.”

  “I’m sorry, Mira. I wish you weren’t pulled into this. You’re the last person I want to see hurt.”

  “Then let this go. Please.” I had one last, desperate argument. I can fix this. “You guys can’t go two months, cooped up on the same ship, with this between you.”

  “You’re right,” she said, releasing my hands. “We can’t.”

  CHAPTER 6

  WE LEFT FROM CULVER, A PORT CITY ON OSFRID’S WEST coast, on a cold and blustery day. Gray water lapped at the docks in front of us, and seagulls screeched and whirled in the sky above. It was so like the city where I’d landed on the other side of the country that I had a brief sense of déjà vu. I’d traveled with my brother that day. This morning, I stood with the two friends who felt like sisters—and who still hadn’t made peace with each other.

  “Do they really expect us to spend two months in the company of those sailors?” demanded Tamsin, wrinkling her nose as several walked by with loads of cargo. She spoke pointedly to me, even though Adelaide stood right by us.

  I studied the passing sailors for several moments before answering. Some of the day laborers that Mistress Masterson frequently hired had been brought on to help, but my Flatlander acquaintance didn’t seem to be among them. I turned back to Tamsin and tried to keep my tone light. “Are you saying you didn’t run into sailors when you were out delivering laundry?”

  “Well, of course I did. But that was then. This is now. I’m at a very different station. I’d hardly associate with the likes of them these days.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s not like you’ll have to share a room with them. And someone’s got to run the ship.”

  “Especially since I don’t have any sort of nautical knowledge,” remarked Adelaide, bitterly recalling Jasper’s retort when she’d questioned him about winter storms.

  Tamsin nearly responded and then remembered it was Adelaide who’d spoken. Tamsin turned around, putting her back to both of us, and watched as the men continued loading the cargo. Adelaide sighed.

  We were taking two ships to Adoria, the Good Hope and the Gray Gull. Each ship would carry half of the girls, as well as all sorts of goods Jasper planned on selling. A handful of other passengers and commodities were also going with us, so apparently we weren’t the only ones willing to risk a winter crossing.

  “You’ll be in the capable hands of Mistress Culpepper when you arrive,” said Mistress Masterson, speaking loudly to be heard over the wind. She tightened her dark shawl around her narrow shoulders. “She runs things on the Adorian side and will look after you.”

  She and the other manor mistresses stood nearby, all quick to offer advice to us about avoiding sailors and remembering our manners in Adoria. Only some of the houses’ mistresses were accompanying us. Mistress Masterson wasn’t one of them. Instead, our chaperone aboard the Good Hope was the Dunford mistress, Miss Bradley, who seemed nice enough.

  Once the cargo was packed away, it was time for us to go aboard. We surprised Mistress Masterson with hugs and then waited for our names to be read. Jasper was calling out for the Gray Gull, which would carry the Dunford and Swan Ridge girls, first. When I heard him say Tamsin’s name, I thought for sure I must have mixed everything up.

  But no, Tamsin separated herself from the Blue Spring Manor girls, handed Mistress Masterson a stack of letters, and then walked down the wharf toward the Gray Gull. Her red hair danced in the wind behind her, and she didn’t look back.

  “Tamsin . . .” I breathed.

  Adelaide said nothing, but her blue eyes widened with disbelief. When our turn came to board the Good Hope, I whispered, “She’ll come around. She has to. This journey will give her a lot of time to think.”

  But I could hear myself falter and knew that Adelaide didn’t believe me. I didn’t believe me either. I had to force one foot in front of the other when we started toward the dock. I’d failed. I hadn’t fixed things. Several Blue Spring girls shot Adelaide looks of sympathy.

  “Can you believe it’s that bad?” Clara said to Caroline in a stage whisper. “Tamsin didn’t even think she was worth a goodbye.”

  Tamsin apparently hadn’t thought I was worth a goodbye either.

  I tried to put on a look of indifference as a sailor led us below the ship’s deck and into a narrow corridor that contained our party’s cabins. Adelaide came to a startled halt when we entered ours, which was half the size of our former bedroom. The tiny cabin had six bunk beds built into the walls and would hold us, three other Blue Spring girls, and Martha from Swan Ridge—whom Tamsin had swapped places with. Though we’d all come from humble backgrounds, this change from our living conditions at the manors was a shock. Even I had become spoiled, and I sternly reminded myself that when Lonzo and I had sailed from Evaria, we’d had standing room only in a cargo hold packed with other people.

  Adelaide still looked glum, so I linked her arm in mine and steered her to the upper deck. I wanted her old smiles back. And she wasn’t the only one who needed a distraction. “Come on. They’re going to cast off.”

  This ship dwarfed the little channel-runner I’d sailed on. The Good Hope and Gray Gull were great beasts of the ocean, vast and powerful and ready to take on the journey ahead. We gathered near the rail with other curious passengers while sailors shouted and scurried around us, each one focused on his task. The mighty ship swayed on the waves—up and down, back and forth—and then slowly pushed away from the wharf as the last line was taken in. Wind filled the billowing sails above, and we were off.

  The thrill of it swept up even Adelaide, though I knew she’d spotted Tamsin on the other ship’s deck as we departed. The sight of that red hair tore at my heart. Let her go, Mira, I scolded myself. People leave. You’ve seen it your whole life. Focus on what’s to come. Lonzo. Adoria. The New World. It’s finally happening.

  Cedric was also traveling on our ship and strolled over as Adelaide and I discussed cabins. He wore a long, deep red coat of unusual cut—unusual here, at least. I’d heard it was very fashionable in the Adorian colonies.

  Adelaide gave him the first real smile I’d seen in days. “I suppose you’re staying in a luxury stateroom.”

  He grinned back. “That would be my father. I’m in a cabin like yours, bunking with other passengers.”

  I followed his nod toward a group of people standing at the opposite railing. After spending the better part of a year in a house with the same faces each day, I craved new stories and discussions. I hoped Miss Bradley wouldn’t insist on locking us away. Our sailing companions clearly varied in backgrounds, but all were men—typical, considering they outnumbered women three to one in the colonies. Some passengers looked like they’d used every copper they had to make it aboard this ship. Others, probably merchants and traders, displayed prosperity in both clothing and manner.

  Not enough prosperity, according to Cedric. He was just remarking on how none of them could afford us when Rosamunde approached. She joined me in my assessment of our shipmates while Cedric and Adelaide chatted on my other side. “It sure would save us a lot of trouble if we could just find a respectable match on this trip,” Rosamunde remarked.

  “Doesn’t sound like anyone here has enough money. Besides, I assumed you wanted to go to all the parties.”

  “I do, but sometimes I get nervous thinking about all the pressure and the crowds.” She tilted her head speculatively. “Look at that one with the blond hair. He’s fine looking, don’t you think? And his waistcoat is silk. He might have some means.”

  The man in question had sausage curls above his ears and wore the rest tied back with a blue silk ribbon. His face was so pale, I couldn’t tell if he was sick or had just overly powdered it. “He looks like he’s never been outside before,” I said disapprovingly. “And he seems pretty upset about the wind messing up his hair.”

  “So? Ma
ybe he’s a refined gentleman who stays inside reading. All the time. And I think his hair’s very elegant.” Rosamunde scanned the others. “Okay—what about him? The one with the pipe? He’s a little older, but he’s dressed well too. And he’s very handsome.”

  I squinted. “He’s got a wedding ring on. And he’s not that handsome.”

  Rosamunde’s face expressed disbelief at my opinion. “Well, that one over there looks pretty good—the one with the long brown coat. Not even you can deny it.”

  I opened my mouth, ready to protest, and then I did a double take. “Okay,” I admitted. “I can’t deny it.”

  Her brow furrowed. “But he needs to be cleaned up. Shaved, for one. And given a haircut. I mean, is he trying to grow it out? Or is he just lazy?”

  The young man’s glossy black hair did seem confused—too long to lie in the neat, military style favored by older Adorian men but not quite long enough to pull back into the tails that the fashion conscious, like Cedric, wore.

  I brushed my own windswept hair back to get a better look. “I don’t know. I kind of like the hair and stubble. It makes him . . . rugged.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you think that suit is rugged too? It’s actually decently made, but he didn’t bother to press it at all. And anyway, he looks comfortable but not rich. We can do better.”

  As her attention shifted to the other passengers, I kept mine on the black-haired man and took in all those little oddities. Definitely a man of contradictions . . . and a strong, muscled build no one near him could match. My eyes lingered longer than they should have, following the lines of his body, taking note of the broad shoulders and the way his trousers hugged his legs. You didn’t get a physique like that from gentlemen’s easy pastimes. But there was a vigilant, almost fierce quality to his stance that didn’t exactly come from common labor either. I found myself thinking of my scandalous remarks to Tamsin, about the allure of a brief, purely physical affair before settling down with a husband I may or may not love. It was easy to imagine this mysterious man in such a role. Not so easy to imagine ever being able to do it while in the tight grip of the Glittering Court.

  And that’s when I noticed he was staring at me.

  No—I wasn’t the one he was looking at. Adelaide was. His eyes, as dark as his hair, rested intently on her as she laughed at some joke of Cedric’s, and it was a wonder she couldn’t feel that piercing gaze. Or maybe she did. Moments later, she glanced in his direction. Upon being noticed, the man nodded politely and then turned away in a seemingly casual manner—but it wasn’t casual. His body crackled with tension, hyperaware of everything surrounding him.

  My illicit musings evaporated. Men looked at Adelaide all the time. How couldn’t they? She dazzled everyone. But I hadn’t read any attraction in his eyes when he watched her. I hadn’t read anything in his eyes. And that worried me.

  I didn’t see him as the week progressed, and he gradually slipped my mind. Monotony settled in, as did seasickness. Miss Bradley realized the futility of keeping us all below deck and allowed us freedom of movement, so long as we didn’t walk alone or breach any other rules of etiquette. A few girls frequently disregarded the command about traveling in groups. I was one of them.

  The ship’s motion only bothered Adelaide a little, and me not at all. She took a lot of walks with me in those early days, and we’d chat about what was to come or reminisce about Blue Spring. And Tamsin. We talked about Tamsin all the time. The Gray Gull was always in sight. One of my favorite things about being aboard our ship was standing right at the edge of the port or starboard railing. I loved watching the water rush past and feeling the breeze against me, but Adelaide’s carefree nature faltered at that.

  “Be careful,” she told me one day. It was probably the hundredth time she’d said that during our trip.

  We were having another deck walk on what was turning into a pleasant afternoon. The sun had broken through the morning haze, and I couldn’t stay away from the edge. Adelaide remained a few steps behind me, shaking her head with a smile when I beckoned her forward.

  I’d barely turned back to the sun-dappled water when I heard a voice address her: “Your first voyage?”

  I spun around, worried I’d have to ward some sailor away from her. Instead, I found myself staring at him—the man of contradictions. And he was looking at Adelaide in that same, disconcerting way. I moved swiftly to her side.

  “I’m sorry,” the man said politely. “We’re not supposed to talk without a formal introduction, right?”

  “Well, these aren’t very formal settings.” Adelaide smiled readily, sharing none of my concerns. “I’m Adelaide Bailey, and this is Mira Viana.”

  He shook our hands. “Grant Elliott. I’d take my hat off if I had one, but I learned long ago that it’s not even worth wearing one out in this wind.”

  “You’ve been to Adoria before?” I asked.

  Grant’s eyes flicked briefly to me before returning to her. “Last year. I have a stake in a store that outfits people for exploration and wilderness survival. My partner ran it over the winter, and now I’m coming back.”

  The idea of exploring Adoria’s wilderness almost made me forget my misgivings. One of Adoria’s draws was its vast expanse of unknown territory, land that even the Icori and Balanquans hadn’t settled. It had always intrigued Lonzo and me. I didn’t expect to see much of that wilderness as the pampered wife of some wealthy businessman, but the adventure and romance still beckoned.

  “Have you done much exploring yourself, Mister Elliott?” I asked. Maybe being a frontier adventurer could explain that rugged edge I sensed around an otherwise proper demeanor.

  “Here and there. Nothing you’d find interesting.” He scratched his chin and focused on Adelaide yet again. He had the same shadow of stubble Rosamunde had noticed, almost as though he purposely maintained it. Not clean cut, not long enough for a beard. “Now, help me understand how your organization works. You’re ranked by gemstone, right? And you’re the top one?”

  “The diamond,” she said. “And Mira’s a garnet.”

  “So, that means you’ll get to go to all sorts of—”

  He was interrupted as an upbeat Cedric walked over to us. “There you are. Looks like the three of you have already met. Mister Elliott is one of the men who shares a cabin with me.” The two of them shook hands in greeting. “Adelaide, I need to borrow you for a moment. Mira, will you be able to go back down below with them when they leave?”

  Cedric nodded toward a cluster of girls from Guthshire. I could just barely make out one of them describing the virtues of velvet over silk when it came to hair bows.

  “Of course,” I said, having no intention of joining that gaggle. “And perhaps Mister Elliott could tell me more about his business.”

  Grant was already backing away. “I’d love to, but I just remembered something I have to follow up on.”

  He headed off in one direction while Cedric and Adelaide went in another. A couple of the girls in the bow-discussion group watched Grant’s departure. I heard one say, “That one needs a woman to look after him.”

  “Wouldn’t matter,” remarked another. “He’s probably just a common laborer.”

  “No, I heard he’s some kind of merchant,” the first girl said. “But a small-time one.”

  A merchant like that couldn’t afford a Glittering Court girl—especially not Adelaide, our diamond. So why had Grant tried so hard to engage her—but not me—in conversation? Was he just trying to see what kind of luck he might have seducing a girl who was out of his league? My gut said no. His behavior was strange but not flirtatious.

  As we continued crossing paths in the next few days, I became more and more convinced he was pursuing Adelaide. Whenever she came above deck, he’d materialize like he’d been lying in wait. For her part, she didn’t notice. She had other things on her mind, and he never said anythin
g that couldn’t have been said in front of Miss Bradley.

  I quickly realized he wasn’t simply pursuing Adelaide. He was actively avoiding me. If he saw me approaching alone, he’d find an excuse to leave. At first, I thought he just didn’t want to waste his time on anyone who wasn’t her. But when he did happen to catch her in a group, he’d make polite conversation with every other girl. Me? I received as minimal a response as propriety would allow. And I almost never got eye contact.

  I then assumed his standoffishness must be because of my background—but Grant never seemed prejudiced toward the handful of other non-Osfridians on board. It was just . . . me.

  I didn’t tell Adelaide or Cedric about my suspicions, seeing as they were mostly based on instinct. Tamsin might have believed me, which only made me feel worse. Missing her one afternoon, I wandered over to the starboard side of the ship, where the Gray Gull sailed perfectly parallel to us. I squinted at the figures moving aboard its deck, hoping to spy a flash of red hair.

  “You know she’ll have made all sorts of new friends by the time we arrive,” a snide voice said behind me.

  I closed my eyes a moment before turning to face Clara. “I hope she does,” I replied evenly. “It’s a long trip.”

  Clara cocked her head, smiling in that unfriendly way of hers. “You don’t get it, do you? She’s not going to have anything to do with either of you when we’re in Adoria. Adelaide’s too much competition . . . and you . . . well, you’re you.”

  “We’re friends.”

  “That’s not what it looked like when we left Culver. Come on, Mira. You lived with her. You know how ambitious she is. Having a Sirminican friend isn’t going to help her over there, and she’s smart enough to know it.”

  Other people milled about the deck, so I made sure to keep my face pleasant as I said, “Don’t you have something else to attend to? Maybe a married man you can get friendly with? I think there are a few on board.”