Midnight Jewel

by Richelle Mead

  “I don’t care if she isn’t one of our girls,” the bartender said. “You want to do that, you take her upstairs and pay for a room like everyone else.”

  Grant blinked a few times and then gently pushed me back to my chair. “I’ll take her to my place. Er, that is, we’re leaving.” He stood up and tossed a few coins on the table, though his eyes scanned the tavern as he did. A quick nod at me said we were in the clear, and the two of us walked to the tavern door. Or, well, I limped. We paused once more at the porch, double-checking for our pursuers, but they’d moved on.

  We made our way slowly down the street, and he offered once to let me lean on him. I shook my head. “It’s not so bad,” I lied. I was afraid to touch him again. I was afraid to say anything. We walked back to the bakery in silence, and I had to resist the urge to touch my lips and trace where his had been.

  “Grant . . .” I found my courage and had to swallow a few times before continuing. “Should we—that is—do we need to talk about—”

  “No,” he said, staring straight ahead.

  “No? You don’t have anything to say?”

  “No.” His voice held its usual flippancy, but it felt fragile. Like it was a struggle to maintain it. “Is there something you want me to say?”

  Lots of things. Like why he hadn’t been faking. He was an exceptional actor, but he hadn’t kissed me like he was putting on a show. He’d kissed me like he wanted to consume me. And he pulled me to him like . . . well, like he just wanted me, pure and simple.

  What do you want him to say? Why are you searching for something complicated? I demanded of myself. I sought shelter in a cocky attitude. “Mostly I just want to hear you acknowledge that I was a better choice than Silas tonight.”

  “Well, certainly in some—” He looked ahead, toward his building, and groaned. “Wonderful.”

  I followed his gaze. “What?”

  Aiana stood in front of the bakery below his loft, a horse tethered nearby. She was leaning against a post and snapped to attention when she saw us, her face a thundercloud. Immediately, she began yelling at Grant in Balanquan. He kept his calm when he answered back in the same language, but it only seemed to make her angrier.

  She was in the middle of another tirade when I said, “Wait, wait. This isn’t his fault. I volunteered. And if it helps, he protested.”

  Aiana switched to Osfridian. “Well, apparently not enough! Come on, we’re going home. It’s a miracle no one noticed you were gone in the ball’s aftermath. Well, I’m sure Adelaide noticed.”

  “It was a one-time thing,” Grant said. “It was my fault.”

  Aiana turned on him. “Of course it was your fault! You should’ve never gotten her involved with any of this.”

  “She can make her own decisions. She got herself involved with this.”

  “With your prompting! Don’t drag her into your reckless lifestyle. Don’t make her like you! She has a good chance here. A chance for stability and happiness, maybe even love.”

  Grant’s calm and collected air disintegrated into angry disbelief. “With an arranged marriage to the highest bidder? How’d that work out for you with Mishi, Aiana? And where was your love and happiness when you were slinking in and out of that midwife’s bed? You should’ve learned your lesson from her, but I’m sure you’ve fallen in with some other disastrous lover while I’ve been gone.”

  Aiana looked as though he’d slapped her. “At least I learn my lovers’ names,” she said quietly. “And at least I try for human connection. Maybe I fail, but I try.”

  Icy silence descended as they stared each other down, and I had an unwelcome flashback to Adelaide and Tamsin fighting. The heat I’d felt in the tavern was gone. All I wanted was for these two to make peace.

  Grant yielded first, the challenge fading from his eyes. “Sekem, I didn’t—”

  Aiana held up a hand and moved toward the horse. “Don’t. She is already like you. Maybe she always was. And I’m going to assume from now on, she’ll just come and go when she wants. I’ll cover when I can, but if anything happens to her, it’s on you. I hope all your dreams and glory are worth that. Let’s go, Mira.”

  CHAPTER 15

  I FELL ASLEEP AS SOON AS I WAS BACK IN MY BED, AND morning came far too quickly. I opened my bleary eyes to find Adelaide standing over me, dressed for the day and full of questions.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Thank you for not telling anyone.”

  I could see she was waiting for more detail, perhaps an explanation or simply where I’d been. I stayed silent, mostly to avoid lying to her. At last, she asked cautiously, “Were you out exploring the city?”

  “Yes.” That, at least, I could say truthfully. “Foolish, I know.”

  “Something could’ve happened to you! Promise me you won’t do it again. It’s not safe for a woman alone.”

  “The world never is,” I remarked ruefully. It was the story of my life.

  She gave me a sharp look. “You didn’t promise.”

  “Because I can’t.”

  “Mira—”

  “Adelaide. You have to trust that I wouldn’t do anything—dangerous or otherwise—without a good reason. But . . . well . . .”

  I looked away, suddenly faced with a part of this subterfuge I hadn’t had to deal with before. On the ship, Adelaide had been too distracted to notice much of my goings-on. And until recently, my biggest fear of detection had been by those who dictated my future, like the Thorns. None of my work for Grant was supposed to have affected her. Technically, it still didn’t, but now that she had noticed my behavior, I had to choose how to address it.

  “We all have our secrets,” I said, looking back up at her. “I know you do too, and I respect that.”

  Adelaide had a hard time arguing against that, no doubt recalling that I’d never pushed for details on her erratic performance back at Blue Spring. Still, I couldn’t blame her for worrying. She was all I had left after Tamsin, and I was protective of her. I should’ve known Tamsin’s loss would make Adelaide protective of me too.

  She backed off on her interrogation and even gave me an easy smile as she left the room, but I knew I hadn’t totally erased her fears. As I finished pinning up my hair, I tried to imagine telling her the truth. What would she say if she knew that I’d been breaking into the home of a respected citizen last night? That I’d kissed a man inside a tavern of ill repute? That said man was a spy with a dangerous past and an infuriating personality?

  I stood in the doorway to my bedroom, closing my eyes for just a moment before following her downstairs. Against my better judgment, I let myself savor the memory of kissing Grant. Of being wrapped up with him. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath.

  Stop this. Grant is a distraction, that stern inner voice reminded me as I walked down the stairs. He’s just a means to helping Lonzo.

  At the breakfast table, Mistress Culpepper was already announcing today’s schedule. The Thorns made sure no one stayed idle. Some, like Adelaide, had had all sorts of requests for meetings, and she spent her day entertaining one caller after another at the house. Those who weren’t occupied with individual appointments were sent off on group visits for tea or other activities that would get us exposure. I actually had a couple of callers of my own. One of them was making the rounds to all the girls. The other seemed legitimately curious about me, which was flattering, but nothing about him otherwise left an impression.

  Our most important events took place in the evenings. Those dinners and parties drew in the most prestigious suitors and gave us a chance to assess the homes and resources of those who were courting us. Adelaide, Amelia, and I attended our first private party at the home of an esteemed merchant. Despite our host’s obvious wealth, the party felt casual compared to the pomp and excess of the ball. We were still made up to perfection and still on our best behavior among
Cape Triumph’s elite, but at least there weren’t so many of them. We also had the freedom to mingle with whomever we chose. There were no set dance cards tonight. Actually, there wasn’t much dancing of any kind, which let me give my ankle a rest.

  Thinking of my ankle made me think of Grant, and thinking of him made me think of his hands on my leg, and thinking of that . . .

  “Are you okay, miss?”

  I blinked away from my imagination’s treachery and focused on a young man standing before me, his face quizzical. “Sorry?”

  “You look so flushed,” he said. “I hope the room isn’t too hot for you. Should I get you some water?”

  “That’s very kind, thank you.”

  I struggled to keep smiling as he flagged down a servant. This was maddening. It had only been one kiss. Well, one kiss and a hiked skirt. When the solicitous man returned with my water, I turned my charm up as high as I could, flirting far more than I had with anyone at the debut ball. If some part of me was intent on experimenting with a transient lover, then surely I could find someone else. Someone less . . . complicated.

  But it didn’t work. It didn’t work with the next man I spoke to either. Or the next. I went out of my way to find the best-looking men at the party and discovered that both Grant and Miss Garrison had been right about my appeal. Some of the men seemed hesitant to initiate conversation with a Sirminican but warmed up once they realized I was a “regular” person. And they needed no warm-up at all when it came to my physical attributes. Even through their masks of gentility, I could see them sizing up my figure. Their interest was palpable, but I felt no stirrings of anything. I didn’t want to climb on their laps. I didn’t want to feel their lips crushed to mine. I admired their attractiveness, nothing more.

  When our group came home to Wisteria Hollow later, we found most of the other girls gathered in the parlor, all eager to talk about their respective parties. Adelaide went to bed early, and I offered to go upstairs with her. She’d been out of sorts today, and I worried the strain of being the diamond was already getting to her. She had the most aggressive schedule of anyone. “Just tired,” she said, waving me off. “Stay up if you want to.”

  I wasn’t interested in hearing about everyone’s suitors, especially after all the superficial conversations I’d already had to endure. But I did like the other gossip from Cape Triumph. Despite the peace in the central colonies, rumors of Lorandian and Icori threats always circulated. Local scandals and crime were also hot gossip. Hearing the story of a family who’d received no assistance from the militia or soldiers after being robbed on a busy street made me frown, but a switch in topic to the city’s enigmatic pirates distracted me. It seemed some of them might have taken to water again.

  “This ship just vanished last night,” Juliana told us. “The watchmen on the docks never saw anything. Too misty.”

  “Wasn’t anyone on board?” asked Martha.

  “Just a skeleton crew, and none of them know what happened,” explained Juliana. “They were knocked out, tied up, and left farther up the coast.”

  I leaned forward, fascinated. “What was on the ship?”

  “Mostly sugar. Some spices. They took all the sailors’ weapons too. It had just come into port in the afternoon and hadn’t been unloaded yet.” Juliana sighed. “I hope we can still get sugar for coffee and tea. The gentleman who told me about the ship said those things will be hard to find until spring trade increases from the south. Prices will go up.”

  Clara ran her hands over her narrow waist. “Just as well. Who needs sweets? You should cut back on those pecan buns at breakfast, you know. You’re not engaged yet.”

  Juliana turned bright red and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. I tried not to roll my eyes. Honestly, couldn’t Clara get through any conversation without finding a way to belittle someone?

  “I’m actually surprised you aren’t married already,” I teased Juliana. “You’ve had suitors visiting you nonstop. And it sounds like you must have been talking to a well-connected gentleman if he knows so much about commerce.”

  Juliana brightened. “Oh, yes. Barton Scarborough. He trades all up and down the coast. I danced with him twice.”

  “Ooh, you’re lucky,” cooed Theresa. “Mister Scarborough is such a fancy dresser! I saw him at the ball but didn’t get a chance to dance with him.”

  “He had silk roses embroidered on his waistcoat tonight.” Juliana lifted her chin proudly. “It’s because his father—the elder Mister Scarborough—lived in Lorandy years ago. They’re a very fashionable family.”

  I decided it was time to make my exit. I’d restored Juliana’s standing and didn’t feel particularly compelled to listen to a detailed analysis of men’s wardrobes. But when I reached the doorway, I halted. Every time someone said “Scarborough,” it tickled a memory—especially when Juliana said it. Like me, she loosened her formal Osfridian in private and would revert to her old accent, a quayside dialect that nearly dropped the second syllable of Scarborough. It sounded like scar-brow.

  Skarbrow.

  That had been a name on the list uncovered at Abraham Miller’s. Grant hadn’t recognized it because, like some of the other names, Miller had misspelled it. It almost certainly should have been Scarborough. Had Grant made this connection yet? If not, he needed to know. Identifying the customs officials on that list was critical.

  A new energy rushed through me. I sprinted up to my room, careful not to wake Adelaide, and wrote out a note in the cipher Grant had taught me. When I came back downstairs, I was just in time to see Aiana at the front door. “Aiana!” I whispered. “Are you leaving?”

  “I’m off work now. I don’t usually have overnight shifts.”

  I handed her the paper. “Can you take this to Grant?”

  She gave me a look of mock astonishment. “Well, well. I figured you’d just scale down the trellis and do it yourself.”

  “Hey, I’m really not always looking for danger.”

  I didn’t think she believed that, but she took the note anyway. “I’ll stop by on my way home.”

  “Aiana . . .” She put her hand on the doorknob and paused to glance back. “I’m sorry for last night. For causing you and Grant to fight.”

  “You didn’t cause that.”

  “But I—”

  “I know you played a part in the night’s outing, but us fighting wasn’t your fault. It’s what we do. And we usually forgive pretty quickly. I don’t have any brothers, so I suppose this is the gods’ way of showing me what one is like.”

  “It is a lot like that. My brother and I fought a lot, but we never held grudges. And there was nothing . . .” I felt my voice start to crack. “There was nothing we wouldn’t do for each other.”

  Aiana’s dark eyes brimmed with compassion, but she didn’t pry. She just squeezed my hand and said, “I’ll see that Grant gets this.”

  I never heard if she did, and my whirlwind life reset the next day. More suitors, more afternoon excursions. The evening party was held at the home of the governor—the father of Adelaide’s most celebrated suitor, Warren Doyle. The gathering would have an exclusive guest list, and I resolved to be watchful around so many prominent citizens. I’d hoped Cedric or Aiana would serve as our chaperone, but Jasper came instead. On the bright side, he rarely paid much attention to me.

  Warren didn’t either. I wanted to talk to him, not because he was a likely traitor, but because he had the potential to be targeted by them. Supplies for his new colony came into port a few times a week, many of them the basic survival types of items a rebel army would require. I was curious if he’d noticed any shorted cargo.

  He monopolized Adelaide most of the time, though, and when she finally stepped away and provided me with an opening, he barely spared me a glance.

  “Your family’s home is lovely,” I told him.

  “Hmm? Oh, yes, yes,
thank you.” His eyes scanned the room, taking in other guests and their activities.

  “I know your father’s been in Denham a while, but this house was recently built, correct?” When he didn’t answer, I prompted, “Mister Doyle? How old is your home?”

  “What? Oh. Ah, ten years or so.”

  Growing impatient, I switched to a more dishonest angle. “You know . . . Adelaide was just telling me she was worried you won’t have a house to match this one in Hadisen.”

  That got his attention, and he swung his gaze back to me. “She did?”

  “She likes you very much, but it’s a risk—not you, of course, but going off to a new colony. Here, you’ve got the backing of your father’s wealth and prestige. But in Hadisen? Well. That may not be the case.”

  “I’ll be its governor,” he exclaimed. “You can’t get much more prestigious than that.”

  “But she’s heard there’s barely a town there, that supplies are short. And I don’t mean luxury items. Even basics.”

  “Things are rough now,” he admitted. “But I’m leading a party there later this month, and we’re flush with all sorts of goods that will help boost the economy. And of course, my home will want for nothing, no matter how rugged everything else is. Make sure that she knows that.”

  “I will. What kind of goods are you—”

  “Ah, Miss Viana, there you are.”

  I turned at the new voice, startled, and saw Cornelius Chambers. “Mister Chambers. I didn’t think I’d see you until you hosted that party you’d promised.”

  He grinned. “I’ll still honor that, but you’re in luck. The Doyles are great friends of ours, and so Father decided to come out tonight. I can introduce you as soon as you’re free.”

  “Of course, that would be—” I turned and saw Warren had moved on. So much for my investigation. “Well. It looks like I’m free now.”

  I’d almost forgotten about this bizarre arrangement and allowed Cornelius to lead me over to a corner where a well-dressed elderly gentleman sat in a high-backed chair. Wisps of gray hair escaped from the tail bound at the back of his neck, and a large triangular-shaped hat rested crookedly on his head. He clutched a cane in one hand and was speaking with a younger man in the chair next to him. Seeing us, the young man stood and bowed before excusing himself.