Midnight Jewel

Home > Science > Midnight Jewel > Page 9
Midnight Jewel Page 9

by Richelle Mead


  “I’m not a spy.” I slipped the picks back into the pocket where I kept my knife and wrapped my hand around the hilt.

  Grant pointed at the open journal, its words plain to see. “Then how did you know to do that?”

  “My father taught me. He was . . .”

  “Don’t tell me. A spy?”

  “No! What he was isn’t important right now.” My hand was sweaty, and I had to adjust my grip on the knife. “I came here to make sure you don’t hurt my friend.”

  “Hurt her? Why in Ozhiel’s hell would I do that?”

  “You tell me! You’re the one pursuing her. I should’ve just gone straight to Cedric or Jasper and let them know that there’s a con man obsessed with getting his hands on—”

  “Stop right there. Let’s get some things straight.” He held up a finger. “First, you need to stop saying ‘obsessed.’ It makes me sound unstable.” Another finger. “Second, I have no intention of ‘getting my hands’ on her. I wouldn’t even know where to start with all those dress layers.” Up went the third finger. “And finally . . . ‘con man’?”

  “How else would you describe a man who snoops around someone’s house in disguise and then follows them onto a ship under another false identity?”

  “This is my real identity,” he snapped. “Mostly. And if you actually read that letter, you’d have your answer.”

  His voice held a query, trying to determine how much I knew. “Yes. I read it all. I know about the McGraw Agency. About your mission. Do you think we’re traitors? That Adelaide is?”

  His ensuing silence came from uncertainty, not anger. I realized then that he was afraid to say anything or give up any more of the conspiracy he was enmeshed in.

  “I already know plenty,” I boasted. “You might as well trust me with the rest.”

  “I can’t trust anyone. Especially a woman who broke into my room.”

  “I told you, it was to protect Adelaide! What would you do if someone was stalking your best friend?”

  “I wouldn’t have to do anything. As soon as she noticed some guy sneaking around, she’d beat him to a pulp.”

  I considered that for a moment, fascinated by the idea that someone who thought caring about people was dangerous actually had a best friend—a female one who could apparently beat someone “to a pulp.”

  “Just tell me.” Hopefully, if I tried for a civil attitude, he might do the same. “Please. I’ve already read everything. What else is there to do?”

  “I could hand you over to the authorities for treason. Maybe you can find a husband in prison.”

  So much for civility. “I haven’t done anything treasonous! I’m just trying to save my friend.”

  He raked a hand through his hair and began pacing the room. “You read the letter. You saw the part about how the leaders of this conspiracy are most likely men of power and influence—men a humble shopkeeper like me can’t get easy access to.”

  “Are you a humble shopkeeper? Or are you a McGraw agent? Or are you a laborer with a bad back?”

  “I’m all of those. Except my back is just fine.” He paused. “How did you recognize me?”

  “Your ear,” I said. “And then that made me think of other things. Like that inflection I keep hearing in your voice. And how your scars were in different places when I saw you at Blue Spring. Not by much. But enough.”

  I didn’t catch what Grant muttered next. The language was none I knew. But I’d apparently passed some sort of test. “I won’t cross paths with many of those powerful men,” he finally said. “But you girls will. And if what everyone says is true, your friend will cross paths with most of them.”

  “You want . . . you want Adelaide to be a spy?”

  “The correct term is ‘asset,’” he said. “Someone who gathers information for a spy. Can you talk to her for me?”

  “No. I don’t want Adelaide involved in anything dangerous.”

  “All she has to do is watch and listen at all those fancy balls and dinners.”

  “No.”

  He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, then why don’t we just forget about all this and be on our respective ways. I’m sure we each have important things to do—some of us more so than others.” I didn’t believe he’d give up on her so easily, but before I could call him out, he asked, “And how much money will it take to keep you quiet?”

  I froze. “Money? How . . . much are you offering?”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. Two gold.”

  A crazy idea began forming in the back of my mind. “I need two hundred.”

  “Two hundred? I barely have five to my name. And if I did have two hundred, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

  I pointed at the journal. “But you’ll get that huge reward for solving the case.”

  “I won’t get it. Silas controls it. Then there’ll be other expenses to compensate. But a little silence isn’t worth two hundred. Not even an asset is.”

  “Were you going to pay Adelaide? How much?”

  “To be determined,” he said flatly.

  “Look, you’re right about her being the best at the Glittering Court. She earned that diamond title. But this—this sneaking around? Subterfuge, gathering information, and all that? It’s not in her nature. I’m the one you want.”

  I braced myself for one of his biting remarks, but when he spoke, his tone held . . . well, not respect, exactly. But a little less sarcasm. “I’ll give you points for subterfuge. And you’re resourceful. You’ve certainly taught me a lesson about not using heat-sensitive inks.” He touched one of the scratches on his face and winced. “And to take your threats seriously. I can’t imagine if you’d had the knife.”

  I pulled the blade out. “I do have it.”

  He stepped forward to study it more closely. “Can it even cut anything?”

  “Come closer and find out.”

  That brought a smile. Not a trusting one, by any means. But it was appreciative. “Her scores will get her into places you can’t go.”

  “I don’t need good scores to get into places,” I said, looking around the cabin meaningfully. “I’ve got skills no other girl here has.”

  “And you’ve also got a Sirminican name. None of the others belong to a group that most Osfridians see as deceitful, dark-skinned heretics that are filling the capital’s streets and stealing everything they can get their dirty hands on.”

  The breath seemed to leave my body, and I took a threatening step forward. “You don’t know anything about us!”

  “Don’t hit me again,” he said, and I realized I’d started to raise my hand. “I didn’t say I see it that way. But I’m telling you how others will. And don’t act like you haven’t already felt it.”

  A little of my rage faded. “Yes.”

  “You’ll see it again. It’s how a lot of them are—especially anyone in Cape Triumph who was born in Osfrid. Trust me, I know firsthand how this works.” He studied me even more intently this time. “But you are scrappy. And maybe you could make headway with some of the longtime colonials. They aren’t always so small-minded, not after surviving there that long.”

  Now I studied him, trying to read his intentions. “Does that mean . . . are you giving me the asset job?”

  “I’m considering it. And that’s mostly because I’m tired, and you’ve worn me down.” Grudgingly, he added, “And . . . it might be useful if you could pick a few locks at those parties you’ll be at.”

  Excitement surged in me—and not just for the money. There was an allure to being part of the fabled McGraw Agency. Not part of it, I supposed. More like . . . a hired contractor. But still. I’d be doing something greater than dressing up for parties. I’d be continuing the family legacy of fighting injustice—but it’d be on my terms, not my father’s.

  And Lonzo . . . if I could earn some gold
of my own, I wouldn’t have to stress about my husband paying the bond. And if I could earn a lot of gold, I could pay off my own contract. I wouldn’t need a husband at all. The thought made me giddy.

  But those were big “ifs.” And I didn’t have any gold yet.

  “I can do more than spy,” I said. “All my accents are good. You can teach me to disguise myself, and you’ve seen how I fight. I’ve used a sword and—”

  “Whoa, whoa.” He held up his hands. “Slow down, buccaneer. I don’t need to teach you any of that. I do that. Well, not the sword part. I need you to observe. I need you to distract men so that they say stupid things and give in to what you want. Can you do that?”

  A little of my enthusiasm dimmed, and suddenly, it was like working for my father again. Fighting injustice by being a pretty face. By distracting. By offering myself.

  But, Lonzo . . .

  “If that’s what you want? Yes. But I’m serious—don’t underestimate the rest of what I can do. I got in here by learning your habits. And then I broke through your letter’s protection. Sounds a lot like what you need an asset to do.”

  “Protection? Hardly. Lemon juice is a rookie’s trick. But Aspen didn’t know what reagents Silas was using these days.”

  I didn’t know what a reagent was, so I pushed what I did know. “My father used ciphers and codes and masks and—”

  “Yes, yes, I get that. What I don’t get is why he did all that if he wasn’t a spy.”

  Grant looked at me expectantly, and I realized this was the last thing that stood between me and the job. No one in this new life of mine, except Cedric, knew about my father’s past. How would Grant take that knowledge? Deny me? Share it with others? I might not be an Alanzan, but no one would believe it. On the other hand, my gut told me that if I lied to Grant, he’d know.

  “My father was a crusader of sorts. He was known best for smuggling Alanzans out of Sirminica. Before the war . . . well, the king and the church did horrible things to them. My father couldn’t stand aside and let that happen, even if we didn’t share their faith. He used every resource he had to help them—and that included his family.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Dead.”

  Grant’s expression didn’t change. “Okay, Mirabel,” he said at last. “I’ll sign on to this plan, fool that I am. What is there to lose? Aside from the entirety of Osfrid’s colonial holdings. And my future. But don’t trouble yourself over that.”

  “You know, you make it a little hard for people to like you.”

  “You don’t have to like me, Mirabel. You just have to work with me.”

  “Most people call me Mira.”

  “And I call you Mirabel. Now get out of here before someone finds you. I have enough to worry about without the Thorns coming after me.” He began replacing the trunk’s contents.

  “Not yet. We haven’t talked about money. You said assets get paid.”

  “You’re not getting two hundred. I’ll give you . . . twenty.”

  “Fifty.”

  “Thirty.”

  “Fifty.”

  He threw up his hands. “That’s not how negotiation works. You’re supposed to come back with forty, and then we settle on thirty-five.”

  “Fifty,” I repeated.

  “You’re a little short of your contract price, you know.”

  I let him think that paying my Glittering Court contract was my primary goal. “I’ll worry about that other one hundred fifty.”

  “You’re going to have to worry about one hundred sixty. Because I can’t go over forty. I’m already giving away money that isn’t mine to give.”

  I bit off a protest and asked instead, “Could you use your resources—the agency’s resources—to track a bond servant who came into Cape Triumph last year?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the bunk. “Ah. Got someone else in mind for a husband?”

  “Nothing like that. He’s—a family friend.” Even across the sea, I couldn’t reveal Lonzo’s identity. “I know the company he signed on with, but I don’t know who bought the bond or where they went. Just somewhere in the outer colonies.”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t think about that for very long.”

  “I don’t have to. Even if I got Silas to sign off on using our connections, it’s nearly impossible to track a poorly documented bondsman. And I’ve just got too much other stuff going on to waste my time with that.”

  “But—”

  “No, Mirabel.”

  I kept the disappointment off my face. “If you can’t help with that, then I’m not budging on fifty.”

  “Come on!”

  “Fifty—or no deal. You’ll regret it if you lose me.”

  “I have a feeling I’ll regret this no matter what.” Grant held out his hand to me. “Fifty it is.”

  CHAPTER 8

  I NEVER LOOKED AT GRANT THE SAME WAY AGAIN.

  Or at least, I never looked at his public persona the same way again. As our journey went on, I continually felt like I was at the theater. Whenever I ran into him in the company of others, he’d behave as the paragon of etiquette. I couldn’t take it seriously, not when I’d seen his true nature: gruff, sarcastic, and blunt. He looked the same but might as well have been putting on another disguise.

  “You know how to be nice,” I told him one day as we stood at the upper deck’s railing, a few weeks into the journey. “You know how to be genteel. Why not just do it all the time? You’d make more friends.”

  “What makes you think I don’t already have legions of friends? And just because I know how to do it doesn’t mean it feels natural. I know how to wear a suit, and I don’t really like that either.” He tugged at his collar.

  “There’s wearing it, and there’s wearing it. And yours don’t fit. A little tailoring would do wonders. Didn’t that letter say your mentor’s office is in a tailor’s shop? Maybe you can get a discount when we arrive.”

  Grant shook his head in exasperation. “Congratulations on your amazing memory. Now tell me how you used it to learn something.”

  This had become a game of ours. Every day, I’d try to discover something new about one of the passengers, either by outright eavesdropping or coaxing them into conversation. It wasn’t always easy. I could find a reason to talk to girls from the other manor, but propriety frowned on my striking up a conversation with a sailor or even an unknown male passenger. I’d started to enjoy these tests. Adelaide rarely wanted to come above deck anymore, and Grant—frustrating or not—was a good diversion.

  “I spoke to Mister Kent and Mister Robertson today. Mister Kent’s a paper merchant. He’s been in Adoria for a while.” I tried to stick to facts and edit out any personal opinions that weren’t based on solid evidence. “Mister Robertson’s never been there. He’s pretty dismissive of anyone who’s not of Osfridian descent. Icori and Lorandians. Balanquans. And me, for that matter.”

  Grant stayed silent, his eyes on the horizon.

  “Mister Robertson doesn’t have anything established in Adoria yet, but he’s certain he’ll make his fortune there,” I continued. “Mister Kent is doing well, but some of his caravans have been raided by pirates, so he’s looking to hire extra security. I struck up conversation with them by ‘accidentally’ dropping my bracelet nearby and claiming the clasp was broken. I told them it was my grandmother’s and that we’d been minor nobility before the revolution drove us out. Mister Kent retrieved it for me and gave me the name of a jeweler in Cape Triumph. Oh. And he also offered me a discount on paper.”

  When I fell into silence, Grant turned back to me. “That’s it?”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “Discount paper and a jeweler? Tell me how that could be useful.” I knew the tone in his voice. This was a test too.

  “A jeweler will have contact w
ith wealthy citizens. Walking in with a referral is less suspicious than coming in off the street and fishing for information. And if I ever need to talk to Mister Kent again, I’ve got easy openings. I can say I forgot the jeweler’s name. Or I can come to buy the paper.”

  “That may be true.” From Grant, that was high praise. “But if you were really charming, you’d have gotten the paper for free. You didn’t flirt.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because you never flirt. Do you know how?”

  “You never flirt either.”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “Maybe you would’ve recruited Adelaide if you’d flirted with her instead of putting on all your stiff-suited politeness.”

  He made a grunt of amusement. “I doubt it. She’s too focused on a larger prize to have her head turned by me.”

  “Maybe you’re just no good at it.” He dished out so much critique that it was nice to jab back.

  “Your bit about being minor nobility is good. Most Osfridians only think of Sirminicans as the poor refugees they see out in the streets. But Sirminica has an iconic past—more so than Osfrid, really. You’re the descendants of Ruva, the civilization that brought peace and culture to Evaria. Remind your marks about that. And your actual suitors.”

  “You’re dodging my question.”

  “Because you’re not asking the right one. Why is Kent hiring security? It’s important.”

  His avoidance irritated me, but after a moment, I recognized what he was hinting at. “Because pirates are raiding his caravans . . . that’s weird, isn’t it? His caravans travel by land . . . so why would he mention pirates?”

  “Exactly. You need to understand how this works in Cape Triumph. Pirates were an early problem in all the Adorian colonies. Most of the military sent over was used for ground campaigns against the Icori. The ocean was left wide open. And once trade really started booming between the colonies and Osfrid, all these fat ships full of treasure were just waiting for some enterprising man to snatch. And there are always men like that.”

 

‹ Prev