Midnight Jewel

by Richelle Mead

  I couldn’t stand the risk they were taking. “You both need to go—”

  “Be quiet,” Grant told me. He glanced back at Adelaide. “We’ll do it on the count of three. Put all the strength you’ve got into it, and then dig up some you didn’t even know you had. One—two—three!”

  They worked together, pushing their muscles as far as they would go. At first, it looked as though this attempt too would fail, and then I felt the slightest change of pressure above my ankle. It wasn’t much, but the beam shifted just enough for me to slide my foot out before they released their load. Grant shot over to my side and slid an arm around my waist to help me up. I wobbled a bit but managed to stand and put weight on my foot.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  I nodded, but with each step, I felt a shooting pain in my ankle. Adelaide quickly supported me on my other side, and the three of us hobbled across the deck, fighting our way through the lashing wind and rain. A streak of lightning drew my eye toward the sea, and I did a double take at what I saw. Off in the distance, through the murky light and haze of rain, I could see the Gray Gull fighting its own battle on the ocean. Wind and waves tossed it around effortlessly. I knew the ship was as heavy and hulking as ours, but in that moment, it appeared so fragile.

  “Adelaide,” I said, pointing.

  She came to a stop and looked where I indicated. Her eyes widened, and I knew she was thinking of Tamsin.

  Grant nudged us both. “Stop gaping! Go! Hurry!”

  We made it inside and back down to our hallway. “Where are you going?” I asked when Grant immediately began heading back in the direction we’d come.

  “To see if any other fools need help.”

  “Men get to do everything,” I grumbled after him.

  “You want to go back out there?” Adelaide asked, pushing a tangle of dripping hair out of her face.

  “I’d rather do something useful than sit around and worry about my dress being wet.”

  “Girls!” Miss Bradley called from the common room. “Get in here! Thank Uros you’re safe.”

  The rest of our cohort was still inside, many weeping and clinging to each other for comfort. I didn’t think I’d broken any bones, but it felt good to sit and rest my foot and ankle. They’d probably hurt for a few days, but I didn’t expect to be doing anything particularly athletic in the near future. I could see pale faces and wide eyes throughout the room. We were all scared. Everyone on the Gray Gull had to be scared too. But at least Adelaide and I had each other for comfort. Who was there for Tamsin?

  On and on that night went. I grew so used to the constant rocking that even when we hit small lulls, the room still seemed to spin. And those lulls provided illusory hope that soon gave way to heaving even worse than what we’d experienced before. If it wasn’t for Adelaide, I probably would’ve gone back up to the deck. To do what, I couldn’t say. Probably just cause more hassle for someone. But it was hard for me to think of the sailors working to save our lives while we sat safely down here, doing nothing.

  Grant was up there too. He’d grumbled and snapped at us, but I’d seen the concern in his eyes when he looked me over. And for someone who could put on such an arrogant air and talk about staying unattached from others, he’d headed back into the storm without hesitation.

  It wasn’t until the night’s end that I dared believe the worst was over. The waters calmed, and the ship steadied. Girls fell into restful sleep, and Adelaide and I exchanged wondering looks, neither having the courage to voice what we both hoped. Cedric finally stopped by the room, just long enough to give an update.

  “My father talked to the captain, and we’re out of it,” he said. Adelaide sighed happily against me as he continued. “Amazingly, no one was lost, and there was no damage to the ship. It’s unclear how the cargo fared, but we’ll figure that out later. It’s still night, and as soon as the clouds clear, the captain can assess our position. In the meantime, get what rest you can.”

  “No more sea voyages for me,” Adelaide said when he was gone. “If my husband wants to go visit his family in Osfrid, he’ll have to go alone.”

  “Make sure you state that up front when the suitors come calling.”

  She laughed, and it felt like years since I’d heard that sound. I grinned back, feeling a thousand times lighter. We’d made it. Somehow, against all odds, we’d made it. Adelaide drifted in and out of a restless sleep as the night wound down, but all I could do was count the minutes until morning. I needed to go outside and see for myself that it was really over. When I was certain the time was right, I beseeched Miss Bradley for permission to go up.

  Others followed, uncertain of what awaited us. We emerged to a pale, misty morning. A little sun shone, feeling as though it too had taken a beating in the stormy fray. Pieces of debris littered the deck, and every part of the ship was soaked. The sailors and a few passengers, like Adelaide and me, had clearly been drenched as well. I’d mostly dried off overnight, though it left my dress stiff and wrinkled.

  We all stared in awe, and it was hard to say what was more wondrous. That we’d survived? That the waters could be so calm now after last night’s fury?

  I felt a familiar presence next to me and almost wilted with relief. Grant. “Look,” he said. I followed where he pointed, off toward the western horizon. Usually, we could expect to see the sky and sea meeting in a faint gray seam. Today, they were separated by a swath of dark green and brown.

  Land.

  “I could’ve sworn that storm blew us to the ninth hell—but if so, it apparently blew us back. That’s Cape Triumph.”

  I gave Grant an incredulous look and earned a smile back. I turned my hungry gaze back to the west. I’d expected to be at the bottom of the sea, and here we were, facing our future instead.

  “Adoria,” Adelaide murmured, joy filling her face. “Adoria!”

  An excited titter ran through some of the passengers, but not everyone shared our enthusiasm. Cedric and Jasper stood together with matching, somber expressions. It was the most alike they’d ever looked.

  Adelaide noticed them too. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I saw the sailor before she did. He’d come up beside Cedric and held a piece of splintered wood carved into the shape of a woman’s face. I heard Grant swear softly in Balanquan. Or maybe it was a prayer. Adelaide leaned toward the sailor and blanched when she recognized what I’d already identified. The Gray Gull’s figurehead. I’d seen it up close when we’d boarded in Osfrid and from a distance throughout our journey, barely discernible on our sister ship.

  But the Gray Gull wasn’t beside us anymore—at least, not as we’d known it. All I could see of it now were fragments floating in the water.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE FACE THAT STARED BACK AT ME IN THE MIRROR couldn’t be mine. And it wasn’t because of the carefully applied makeup or elegant chignon. It wasn’t the glittering garnets on my throat and ears. It wasn’t the red satin dress embroidered with gold.

  It was the look on my face—the look of someone who felt nothing. That couldn’t be me. It wasn’t possible that I’d just lost one of my best friends and was now about to parade through Cape Triumph as though I had no care in the world. That couldn’t be me.

  I envied Adelaide. When Jasper had told us we’d still carry on with the Glittering Court’s procession into Cape Triumph, she hadn’t concealed her emotions. She’d raged at him and then run off with tears spilling from her eyes. I’d nearly gone after her, but Cedric had been faster. “I’ll take care of it,” he’d said as he rushed by me.

  Adelaide hadn’t been afraid to let her grief show. I was. I knew that if I allowed even a tiny piece of it out, there’d be no stopping the rest. It was all or nothing. And I couldn’t let the others see that. I couldn’t let them see that tough, levelheaded Mira was falling apart inside. That I was disintegrating.

  Mira
, you will never lose me. No matter what else happens or where we go in this world, I will always be there for you.

  So Tamsin had said. But she was no longer in this world.

  And for a short time, I worried I might lose Adelaide as well. When she’d stormed away, she’d threatened to return to Osfrid and fulfill her contract in a workhouse. She took so long to return to our cabin that I began to wonder if she’d been sincere. Finally, she crept through the doorway, and I swiftly pulled her into a hug.

  “I don’t want to go back,” she assured me, a catch in her throat. “But it’s just . . . I don’t know how I’m supposed to . . . we can’t possibly . . . I don’t know. You have no problem doing this?”

  I had a lot of problems doing this. I wanted to curl into a ball and cry until I had no tears left. I didn’t want to mark Tamsin’s death by dressing up. I didn’t want to smile and flutter my lashes at our admirers. But this was what we were stuck with, and I had to take care of Adelaide now.

  “Of course I do,” I said, trying to sound brisk and pragmatic. “But getting shipped back to Osfrid isn’t going to accomplish anything. I need to go forward, get to the next stage. And you do too.”

  “I know. And I mean . . . I really do understand what I signed on for. I want to do it. But Tamsin . . .”

  I knew what she couldn’t say. She felt guilty. She thought she was responsible for Tamsin being on the other ship. But I had failed them both. I should have been the peacemaker.

  “I know,” I told her. “I feel the same way. But it’s not your fault.”

  Miss Bradley was calling for everyone to assemble, and I quickly helped Adelaide change into her gray and silver gown. I painted kohl around her bloodshot eyes and arranged curling tendrils to perfectly frame her face. When we were finished, she looked as flawless as I did—except that grief still filled her face.

  “We can do this, Adelaide.”

  “You’re so strong,” she said.

  Then why was I the one too afraid to show how I felt?

  We gathered on deck with the other passengers, and Miss Bradley gave us a brief reminder of what to expect. The captain had already raised a flag as we neared Cape Triumph, one that residents would recognize as the Glittering Court’s. Every year, potential suitors and curious gawkers would gather at the piers to watch us disembark. Jasper, ever the showman, turned it into a big procession, building up the drama and glamour to make sure we were a sensation the moment we literally set foot in Adoria. I hated him for making us do it, and yet, some small, detached part of me understood his reasoning. He was here to conduct business. My companions and I were here to find advantageous marriages. Trudging off the ship in black, with heads hung low, wasn’t really a promising start to that venture.

  The shore grew closer and closer. Cape Triumph sat just inside the tip of a piece of land that curled around Denham Bay. Its inner location offered the port city some protection from storms but still kept it easily accessible to ships sailing in from across the sea or along the coast. It was one of the oldest and most important ports in the Osfridian colonies, but the collection of houses, churches, and commercial buildings coming into view seemed like they’d hardly made a dent in that wild coastline. Great forests surrounded it, both towering evergreens and deciduous trees still leafless from the winter. It reminded me of the mountain ranges in northern Sirminica: miles and miles of nature in its purest, hardiest form. This wilderness looked invincible, as though no human hands could ever tame it. But, I supposed, Osfrid had once looked that way too.

  I wasn’t surprised when Grant materialized beside me in that way he had. With everyone in the crowd so transfixed by Adoria, no one noticed him seeking me out.

  “Mirabel—”

  “I know, I know,” I said quietly, keeping my eyes on the coastline. “And don’t worry. This doesn’t change anything. I’ll still do what you need me to.”

  He stayed quiet for so long that I had to glance over and make sure he hadn’t left. “That’s not why I’m here. I just wanted to say . . . I’m sorry. And to tell you to be careful about carrying another ghost.”

  “You think I should forget my friend?”

  “No. I think you shouldn’t forget that you’re still alive.”

  He melted into the other passengers, and I felt a brief pang of envy. People complicate things. They can be dangerous if you get attached to them. He’d told me that in our first real talk, and I’d been dismissive. Now, I understood what he meant. Losing Lonzo and Tamsin wouldn’t hurt as much if I didn’t love them. But my life would be so much emptier without that love.

  Miss Bradley strode up, clapping her hands for emphasis. “Girls, girls. Let’s get ready. We’ll be the first ones off once the ship is secured.”

  The Good Hope glided nearer the pier. This side of Denham Bay boasted smooth, easy waters for ships to dock, again adding to Cape Triumph’s ideal placement. The bay’s far side flanked other colonial territories and was much less hospitable. Its shallow and rocky water allowed smaller boats to get in but nothing like our ship.

  I found myself squeezing Adelaide’s hand again as the sailors carefully maneuvered the ship and began throwing ropes to the wharf. I’d spent so much of the past few years trying to blend in that the sight of all those people watching and waiting for us on shore was more intimidating than the untamed city and wilderness behind them. Once securely tied, we had to wait for port officials to come aboard and talk to the captain. Customs officers followed them to begin their arduous inventorying, and before I knew it, we were ushered off to the shore and lined up.

  After so much time at sea, solid ground felt nearly as disorienting as the rocking deck once had. Miss Bradley lined us up by rank, and Adelaide went first, bravely taking up that conspicuous position. Amelia, a girl from the other manor, came after her. And then Miss Bradley summoned me.

  “Why are you putting me third?” I asked.

  Her face was grim. “Because you are third now. Nearly everyone else above you was on the Gray Gull.”

  The top three. What Tamsin had most coveted. I met Adelaide’s eyes and had to look away from the anguish I saw in them. Because if I looked at her too long, I was going to have to acknowledge my own pain. And if I did, I didn’t know how long I could keep my hardened façade.

  “Adelaide, you need to go now,” said Miss Bradley, not unkindly.

  Adelaide threw her shoulders back and lifted her head high as she stepped forward. The transformation was remarkable. One would never have guessed that her heart was broken or that she was being paraded off like some prize animal at market. She walked—no, glided—with a regality that seemed to embody the new nobility the Thorns were always going on and on about. She acted as though this type of display was nothing to her, like she’d done it her entire life.

  Inspired by Adelaide’s example, I fell into step behind Amelia. It was hard to keep looking straight ahead—not so much out of fear as curiosity. I wanted to study this new world and its people. The glimpses I stole showed a variety far surpassing everything I’d expected. Dignified citizens in velvet and silk. Rough-and-tumble folk in worn jackets and beaver hats. Men, women, children. I’d seen hangings in Osfro that drew less attention than we did—and those were pretty popular spectacles.

  And a few in this group—the less mannered, at least—didn’t hesitate to share their thoughts about us. Leers, vulgar remarks. Propositions. Some comments were directed toward our group as a whole. One woman referred to us as the “Glittering Harlots.” Other onlookers singled us out. Amelia, ahead of me, was easily visible with her auburn hair, and I saw her flinch over one particularly lewd comment about “that ginger.” I, of course, was also conspicuous as the “Sirminican girl”—though “girl” wasn’t always the word they used.

  The hecklers were by far and away a minority. Most of the crowd simply regarded us as a novelty. Children looked at us with awe. And some
men, the obvious elite, were sizing us up in a more professional way and would probably make inquiries later.

  The procession ended in a cluster of coaches hired by Jasper, surrounded by burly bodyguards he also employed. “Only a fool leaves treasure unguarded,” I heard him say as Adelaide and I were directed to a carriage. His eyes surveyed the crowd. “Excellent, excellent. I can already see the potential buyers. I suppose having half the set might drive up the prices.”

  I bit my lip so hard that I nearly drew blood. Anger and grief burned in my chest, and I fought to keep my calm as I walked past him and climbed into the carriage. It jerked to a start, and we got our first real view of Cape Triumph. I settled back in the seat and rubbed my ankle, which ached from my adventures in the storm. Walking on it in the procession had actually been more painful than dealing with the crowd.

  Grant had explained enough of the city’s geography for me to understand that the docks were on its southern side. We skimmed the city’s outskirts, never passing through its busy, commercial heart. I wondered how long that business district would stay contained. Cape Triumph was expanding quickly, and we passed many in-progress or only recently completed buildings. They were all rough and more utilitarian than aesthetic at this point. They hadn’t had the centuries of polishing and remodeling that cities across the sea had. I’d seen villages of this style on my journeys, but I could tell the ragtag structures were foreign to Adelaide, who’d spent most of her life in Osfro’s regal, historic districts.

  A muddy road led us out through the vast rural lands surrounding the city, which were stark and foreboding. Spring buds were fighting their way through, but winter had yet to relinquish its hold.

  Our new home, Wisteria Hollow, was a pretty white house with black shutters. Although smaller than Blue Spring, it was far nicer than anything we’d passed in our brief trip through the edge of Cape Triumph. The hired men helped us down from the coaches and then set to work unloading luggage. Inside, we were greeted by Charles Thorn and the house’s stern-faced caretaker, Mistress Culpepper. I could immediately tell Charles had a kinder disposition than his brother; he expressed true sorrow when he heard about the Gray Gull’s loss. He quickly agreed to Cedric’s suggestion that we delay our social season.