Midnight Jewel

by Richelle Mead

  “You just said the word for boiled potatoes.”

  “They sound the same.”

  “No—listen.”

  She repeated them, and I could just barely pick up a slight pitch difference on the first syllable. “Balanquan uses intonation!” I exclaimed. “I read about it in my linguistic studies, but no Evarian language uses it.”

  “I don’t know what it’s called. It’s just the way it is. Maybe it’s why your people have so much trouble learning our language.”

  I would’ve rather learned Balanquan than the crossbow, but Aiana was insistent. She started with basics, how to load the bolts and gauge my range. The crossbow was beautiful, decorated with that silvery black stone I’d seen on the raid. The trigger, irons, and other parts conveyed a fine workmanship I didn’t even think was possible in Evaria. Its beauty and petite size were deceptive. It still required a lot of strength and made my arm hurt at the end. But she was right that I’d enjoyed it.

  “It felt more like a target game than a weapon,” I told her as we walked back. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d played anything.

  She tsked in disapproval. “It’s not a game where I come from. In darker times, a woman might be left alone with her children. A crossbow like this could help her defend her home. It’s unlikely you’ll ever be in that situation, but the more ways a woman knows to protect herself, the better.”

  “Have you been out in the woods?” Tamsin asked me when I got back to my room.

  I looked down and saw dirt and leaves stuck to the hem of my dress. “I wanted to get out and walk, and Aiana supervised.”

  “You’ll get too much sun,” she scolded. “But we’ve got other things to worry about now. What should I wear to Warren’s going-away party tonight?” She paced in front of her closet, occasionally pulling a dress out and shaking her head. “I’ve got to leave a good impression on him. And his parents.”

  I frowned. Tamsin had astonished us all with the way she’d charmed Warren in so short of a time. Of course, she was Tamsin. Who could stand against her? But he troubled me now as much as when he’d pursued Adelaide.

  “He hunts heretics, you know,” I said.

  She let go of a dress and turned to face me. “What are you implying?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. It just bothers me to see people persecuted for their beliefs when they aren’t hurting anyone. Doesn’t it bother you?” We’d never really discussed religion. For all I knew, she hated heretics too.

  But something flashed through her eyes. Doubt, maybe. It vanished quickly as her normal resolve took over. She clenched her hands. “He’s an intelligent man. If something’s wrong . . . well, I’m sure he’ll reconsider. Don’t look at me like that, Mira! He’s a governor. No one can give me the kind of life he can. He’s anxious to have a wife once he’s set up there. And I’m anxious to be one.”

  “I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

  “If this works out, I will be.” She stared off for several moments, caught in her own thoughts. “Well, that’s enough about that. Let’s get back to figuring out what I’m going to wear. And what you’re going to wear. We’ll get you a husband yet.”

  But it wasn’t a husband I was after that night. All sorts of wealthy and important people packed the manor, many more than had come to the anniversary party earlier that week. A number of guests had even traveled from other colonies. A governor’s son becoming the governor of a new colony was a huge event. A crowd like that offered pros and cons. More people meant more eyes. More people also meant it was easier to blend in.

  I found Governor Ryan easily. He was a large, gregarious man who loved his wine and, from the conversations I overheard, gambling as well. His eyes fell on me once, his expression first puzzled and then disapproving. He returned to his companions and never looked at me again. It had been a while since I’d received such blatant condescension. Not all of Cape Triumph’s elite accepted me, but most had at least become used to seeing me at social events.

  I didn’t need the governor. I needed his letter. If he had it on his person, I was defeated. I’d pickpocketed before, but only in private. Governor Ryan was constantly surrounded by people, and there was no way I’d penetrate that circle. If the letter was somewhere in the house, then my task was only slightly less impossible.

  “But, Father, think of the money we’ll save!”

  “No. Our fortune wasn’t built on human lives, and that’s not going to change.”

  I just barely caught the familiar voices above the room’s buzz. After a quick scan, I spied Rupert Chambers resting in a small alcove, with a visibly agitated Cornelius standing over him. I started to retreat, but Cornelius caught sight of me at the last second. He dashed over and practically dragged me to his father.

  “Miss Viana! What a delight. Father, aren’t you happy to see her?”

  Rupert gave his son a sharp look. “Don’t try to distract me with that poor girl. Not that I’m displeased to see you, dear.”

  Cornelius tugged me to a chair. “Sit, sit. Your feet must be tired.”

  I normally wouldn’t mind visiting with Rupert, but other matters demanded my attention. “I’d love to, but—”

  “Just a small break,” insisted Cornelius.

  “Let her go,” exclaimed Rupert, in a roar of a voice I’d never expected to hear from him. “By the Six, leave her alone and let her go dance with men her own age.”

  Cornelius balked at the tone in his father’s voice and dropped my hand. I curtsied to Rupert. “I don’t want to interrupt your conversation, Mister Chambers. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I hurried off before Cornelius could stop me. What had that been about? Nothing should surprise me about the Chambers family by now, but they still managed it.

  I weaved through the chattering guests, getting a sense of how the estate was laid out. I’d been here a few times but never before needed to know the floor plan. I watched which corridors servants and family went through. Finally, after much scrutiny, I gambled on which way would lead me to the residential wing and hovered near that doorway. I waited until I was confident no one was looking in my direction and then made my move.

  At first, I thought I’d guessed wrong. I walked past a study, a closet, a parlor, and rooms that didn’t even seem to be in use. So much excess. But at long last, a bend led me into a hall of closed doors. I opened the first and found a tidy bedroom that showed no signs of occupancy. It was a start, though.

  Door after door revealed a few more guest rooms, as well as Governor and Mistress Doyle’s massive master bedroom. Not far from it, another large bedroom was filled with trunks and crates. Warren’s, no doubt, ready for travel. Two doors after that came a guest room with a rumpled bed and a small trunk. I slipped inside and lit a small lamp.

  The trunk was locked, and I let it be while I searched the usual places: the desk, the bed, the bureau. Nothing. If it was here, it’d be in the trunk. I knelt down and pulled out my pick kit. The lock popped open with little effort. Inside, I found ordinary traveler’s items. No letter. I tilted my head, gauging the trunk’s height. Running my hands around the trunk’s interior, I found a small catch. I couldn’t help a laugh. It was Grant’s cabin all over again. And to think he’d said I wouldn’t need those skills in this case.

  I opened the second lock and lifted the trunk’s bottom. There it was, a sealed envelope. I broke the wax and pulled out a single piece of paper filled with gibberish. Well, not gibberish, but a string of Lorandian words that made no sense. It had to be a code.

  I put the trunk back in order, snuffed the lantern, and headed back to the hallway. I’d learned enough to know I couldn’t just take it. I stopped by the study I’d passed earlier and lit another lamp. As hoped, paper and pen sat neatly on the desk, and I quickly began to copy the strange note. I couldn’t let Governor Ryan know what had happened. From there, i
t was back to his bedroom to return the letter. I waved the original over the lantern, somewhat melting the seal back together. Hopefully he’d think it was crushed in transit.

  No one had been looking for me back at the party. The Chambers men still appeared to be having a heated discussion, and Tamsin stood close to Warren across the room, laughing at something he told her. I watched them a few seconds, still unsure about that match. Old words of hers replayed in my head, words that felt as though they’d been spoken a lifetime ago: You’re right that I’ll choose success over anything else, but I hope I don’t have to. I hope I’ll love him—or learn to.

  Adelaide was asleep when Tamsin and I returned home, much to my dismay. I’d wanted to spend time with her before she and Cedric left in the morning. I paused near her bed, studying her lovely features and sprawling hair. A lump formed in my throat, and Tamsin slipped her arm around me, guiding me away.

  “She’ll be okay,” Tamsin murmured. “She’s tougher than you think.”

  Tamsin fell asleep quickly, no doubt exhausted by her work on Warren, and I left for Silas’s office shortly thereafter. He looked me over when he opened the door and nodded in satisfaction. “You found it.”

  We leaned over the desk as he spread it out. “Hmphf,” he said. “I don’t suppose you speak Lorandian?”

  “Some. I looked at it earlier, but it doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. What’s it say?”

  I touched the words of the first line. “I don’t know what the second one means, but the rest is ‘my map rabbit short to dance to stop.’ Is that a code you know?”

  “No,” he admitted. “Maybe that word you didn’t know is key.”

  “What I can read of the rest doesn’t make much sense either. Just words in no logical order. No consistency with verb conjugation. I have a Lorandian dictionary back at the house. Maybe it’ll make more sense once I translate the whole thing. Maybe words just need to be moved around.”

  He didn’t answer and instead pulled a wooden box out of one of the desk’s drawers. When he opened the box, I saw a dozen small vials. After a little more thought, he selected one and dipped a small brush into it. The liquid in the bottle had a metallic smell, and he dabbed a little of it between the first two lines. Nothing happened. He tried a second bottle and then a third.

  “You think there’s an invisible letter in there?” I asked.

  “It’s not looking like it. None of the common reagents are working. People are always coming up with their own, but that takes a fair amount of chemistry. I don’t know if the conspirators have those resources.” He tapped the words. “They could certainly come up with their own code, though.”

  “Can you figure it out?”

  “I’ve got a few resources to consult.” He hesitated. “How fast can you translate it all?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said promptly.

  Silas glanced over at me and grew thoughtful. “Why are you even doing this? Grant said you didn’t want to do it anymore and backed out.”

  “Did he?” I asked casually.

  “He wouldn’t talk much about it. Was pretty worked up. The only other thing he said was that it was for the best you were gone and never crossed our paths again.”

  I flinched, and he noticed. “Well. I’ve got a lot to worry about with the Glittering Court. And didn’t you want me out anyway?”

  To my amazement, Silas looked abashed. “I did—back in the beginning. I thought you’d be a distraction and do more harm than good.”

  I lifted my chin. “And now?”

  “I think you do more good than harm.” He smiled at my indignation. “For the case, that is.”

  “Let’s make a copy, and I’ll get to work back at the house.”

  He hovered over me as I worked, brows knit as he studied the words, as though some revelation might hit. When I finished, he sighed in irritation and stepped back. “So close,” he muttered. “We’ll get there. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad to help.”

  He walked me to the door but didn’t open it. After clearing his throat, he said gruffly, “Grant’s south with the patrol for a couple of days. He hates those damn zealots, but it’s keeping his cover. Anyway. Is there . . . is there any message you want me to give him?”

  I had a sudden fluttering in my chest as all the memories from the night of the Flower Fest seemed to whirl through my mind at once. And then I thought about our encounter at the store, in which he’d refused to acknowledge my existence.

  The only other thing he said was that it was for the best you were gone and never crossed our paths again.

  “No,” I told Silas. “No message.”

  CHAPTER 27

  ADELAIDE’S DEPARTURE HIT ME HARD THE NEXT MORNING. No matter how busy our lives had been in Adoria, I’d always had the comfort of knowing I’d see her back at Wisteria Hollow. That wasn’t the case anymore. Her future was off in the foothills of western Hadisen now, away from Tamsin and me. She was going to a dangerous land with dangerous people, and that scared me. I wouldn’t be able to keep track of her anymore. Adelaide was on her own.

  Well, not entirely on her own. Cedric was with her. And despite the mess they were caught up in, both of them looked radiantly happy at the Hadisen party’s send-off. The expedition west was huge, comprised of wagons, animals, and almost two hundred people. Some were going to find gold, others were going to farm. Some people just wanted any kind of work at all.

  Adelaide’s happy because she’s free, I thought, watching her wave at us from a wagon. Maybe she wasn’t free of her contract yet, but it was within grasping distance for her and Cedric now. And if nothing else, she was free of deception. I envied her that.

  Warren Doyle gallantly rode at the front of the caravan, ready to lead them to a better life. He looked very dashing atop his stallion, but his role in organizing the heretic patrols still bothered me. It had been bad enough when he had his eye on all of Denham and parts of neighboring colonies. Now his focus was narrowed in on this group, his new citizens. And Cedric—the man who had both taken the woman Warren wanted and practiced an illicit faith—would be locked into that group as they made the ten-day trip to Hadisen. My gaze fell back on Cedric and Adelaide, and I prayed they’d never let their guards down.

  “I wouldn’t want that life,” Tamsin told me after the party departed. “But she’s in love. I guess that helps offset moving to the wilderness.”

  “I thought you wanted to move to the wilderness,” I teased. “Isn’t that the whole point of chasing Warren?”

  “I want to move into the governor’s newly built house that’s in the wilderness. There’s a difference.”

  Before Adelaide had left, we’d learned that Tamsin’s full-scale “attack” on Warren this week had been pretty successful. She’d been right that he wanted to start his new governorship with a wife, and he’d quickly recognized her strengths. He’d asked that she not accept any offers of engagement until he returned.

  “Do you have any appointments today?” I asked when we were back in our bedroom later. Although she’d promised Warren she wouldn’t accept any offers in his absence, she’d made it clear that she’d still be meeting with other suitors. It was either a way to force his hand or keep her own options open. Maybe both.

  “Yes, of course.” She’d finished writing one of her daily letters and now sat on her bed with a book. “I’m just taking a short break. I’ve got tea with Melvin Yates in an hour and then that dinner party at the Waverly house tonight.”

  I settled on my own bed with the Lorandian dictionary and the coded letter. I did a double take when I noticed her book’s cover. “Are you reading A Testament of Angels?”

  “Huh?” She glanced down at the book, which was a standard church text. “Oh, yes. I started it in Grashond. There wasn’t a lot of reading material there, and I figured I might as well
see it through. And I need something to pass the time now. Warren’s coming back by water after they make it to Hadisen, but it’ll still probably be two weeks before I see him.” She gave a dramatic sigh and leaned back against the headboard. “These days are going to drag.”

  My day didn’t seem to have enough hours in it as I hurried to finish my translation. The letter wasn’t long, but I couldn’t do a word-for-word replacement. I had to take tense and conjugation into consideration, as well as words with multiple meanings. At least I had nothing else to distract me, thanks to my thin social schedule.

  When I finished a couple of hours later and set my Lorandian dictionary aside, the words before me still didn’t make sense. There was no sentence structure at all or any attempt to follow the language’s grammatical rules. If there was a message there, it was beyond me. I made my own copy of the translation and gave Aiana the first one to relay to Silas when she went into town later.

  I didn’t hear anything back until she gave me a small note a week later, during one of our crossbow lessons. It was from Silas: Thanks for the translation. Still no luck breaking it.

  The hope that my efforts had provided some revelation faded away. Silas and his network had had to go to incredible lengths to even learn about the letter’s existence, and then I’d done the work of obtaining it. All for nothing.

  I lined up a shot with the crossbow and tried to keep my tone light as I asked, “Silas gave you the note? Or was it Grant?”

  She crossed her arms and checked my form. “Silas. I’ve hardly seen Iyitsi at all. He’s too caught up in this case.”

  I let the bolt fly, and she grunted in approval. “He told me how important it is to him. How it’ll get him back to his people. Is there . . . is there any other way he could do it?” I’d been troubled by this, the more I thought about Sirminica. I understood more of his reasons but was still bothered by the idea of him holding a grudge for so long.