Midnight Jewel Read online

  “Cape Triumph. In Denham Colony.” Cedric kept smiling, but the shift in his posture betrayed his nervousness. I didn’t blame him, with that list in his pocket. Church officials wanted to make an example of native Osfridian converts. Hangings had become common.

  When the monk still didn’t respond, I crossed my arms and fixed my gaze on his shadowed face. I hoped I was meeting his eyes. “Good Brother, I appreciate your concern. And you’re right—desperate girls with no other options do turn to desperate means. But I’m not one of those girls.”

  “Not desperate?” he asked, voice unexpectedly wry for a holy man.

  “Not without options. If I don’t see any, then I make my own. And no one forces me into anything.” My words came out with a bit more fire than I’d intended.

  “I can believe that. I’d pity anyone who tried.” I could’ve sworn he was smiling in the depths of that hood. “Good luck to you, miss.” He opened the cathedral door and disappeared inside.

  Cedric exhaled. “That could have gone a lot worse. I think he must’ve liked you.”

  “They don’t like anything except their studies.”

  “He couldn’t take his eyes off you,” he teased.

  “You couldn’t even see his eyes! Now go memorize what I gave you. Don’t forget to burn it.”

  Cedric answered with a nod and began descending the great stone steps. “See you in four days.”

  I stayed where I was and looked down upon the city I’d be leaving behind. I’d come here to escape war, but I felt no loyalty. Learning to be a polished lady in some country manor was a delay in getting to Lonzo, but I was human. I wanted to sleep in a clean bed, instead of on a floor crowded with other refugees. I wanted three meals a day again. I wanted to be around books again.

  “Four days.” I felt my lips creep into a smile. “Four days, and my new life begins.”

  CHAPTER 2

  I’D MEANT IT WHEN I TOLD CEDRIC I’D BE ON GOOD behavior. I wanted to be on good behavior. This opportunity meant too much for both me and Lonzo—I couldn’t afford to lose it. And despite all the violence and danger I’d seen in my life, discord wasn’t something I relished. I actually longed for order. For peace.

  So, it was unfortunate when, six months into my stay with the Glittering Court, I found myself holding a blade to someone’s throat.

  “Do you hear me?” I cried. “One more word—one more hint of this—and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!”

  My quarry, Clara Hayes, answered with a defiant smirk, though her eyes revealed uneasiness. It was hard to feel too cocky when you were pressed up against the side of a house with a knife’s point resting against your neck. Rain fell steadily around us, but I was too focused on her to care about my soaked hair and nightgown.

  “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?” she spat.

  “It’s not the truth, and you know it. You’re the one who made it up.”

  “It sure sounds true.” Clara tried to shift, ever so slightly, but I kept her pinned in place. “Why else would he let a Sim into this house? I mean, one who’s not here to clean it. I guess I can’t blame you. He is terribly handsome. But I don’t think that excuse will hold when his father finds out about this.”

  I kept my face still. I didn’t even blink, which was hard with water running into my eyes. Clara had been my bane since the day I’d arrived at Blue Spring Manor. As Cedric had predicted, some of the Glittering Court girls carried the same prejudice I’d met in the city. Honestly, though, I didn’t think Clara cared one way or another about my background. She was simply a bully. She wanted victims. I’d endured her pranks and taunts with stony resilience, but she’d crossed a line this week when she began spreading rumors that I’d earned my place here by sleeping with Cedric. It had struck too deeply, triggering memories of a time when I’d nearly been forced to trade my body for other favors.

  You’re a coward, Mira. You have to learn to make tough choices.

  “His father’s not going to find out,” I told Clara. “Especially since there’s nothing to find out.”

  “Who do you think he’ll believe, you or me? Jasper hates that Cedric recruited you. And when this gets around to him . . . ? Well. There’s no way he’ll let you stay. It costs him a fortune to get us ready for Adoria. And it costs our suitors even more to pay our marriage fees. For that price, they expect beauty, charm, culture—and virtue.”

  I leaned forward. “Beauty? You’re right. That is important. Here, Adoria, everywhere. I’d hate to see you lose yours.”

  Her smile vanished. “W-what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that if you don’t stop your lies and start telling everyone the truth, I will ruin you—your face, that is.” I slid the blade along her cheek for emphasis. “I will ruin any chance you have of ever getting a husband in Adoria or any other place. A ruined reputation just gets me kicked out. But a ruined face? That’ll pretty much turn away any suitor, rich or poor.”

  She gaped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “If you get me sent away, then what do I have to lose? All I’d have to do is slip into your bedroom with this one night and—” I made a slashing motion with my free hand.

  “I’ll tell Mistress Masterson about this!”

  “Good luck proving it.” I released her and backed away. “Now, did you get all of that? I know you have trouble with my accent sometimes.”

  Clara’s response was to jerk open the kitchen door I’d dragged her through earlier and slam it as she stormed inside. But I’d seen her face. I’d scared her.

  I took a deep breath and leaned against the house, surprised to find I was shaking. Had I really just threatened to cut up someone’s face over gossip? I had no intention of really following through with it, but even the bluff made me feel dirty.

  You did what you had to do, Mira, a stern inner voice told me. You have to get to Lonzo. You can’t risk getting thrown out of here because of one petty girl’s slander. And you’re not the only one with a lot on the line. Cedric needs to get to Adoria too.

  I doubted Jasper Thorn believed every girl in the house was a virgin, but he made sure everyone else believed it. He had a reputation to protect. He wouldn’t go easy on anyone he thought had sullied his “merchandise”—not even his own son.

  I straightened up and slipped my old knife—which was actually too dull to cut anything, let alone a face—back into its pocket. Now I had to get inside before someone noticed my absence. We weren’t even supposed to go out at this hour, and if our housemistress found me drenched, I’d be in even more trouble.

  I pulled the kitchen door’s handle, and nothing happened. I tugged a few more times, just to make sure it wasn’t stuck, and then I groaned.

  Clara had locked me out.

  “No, no,” I muttered, hurrying over to a set of double glass doors also on the manor’s backside. They led to a parlor—and they too were locked. I tried a window. Locked. Running back to the kitchen door, I jiggled the handle once again. Nothing. What if I knocked? I had friends here. One might be near the kitchen and let me in. Of course, Mistress Masterson might also be near the kitchen.

  “Looks like you could use some help.”

  I whirled around as a figure emerged from the shadowed yard. It was a man, slightly bent over when he walked, wearing tattered and oversized clothes that were as soaked as mine. At first I thought some vagrant had wandered onto our property, and then I recalled that today was delivery day. I even distantly remembered seeing a man with that same hunched posture among the workers who’d brought groceries to us from the village. Still, I shrank against the door, ready to pound on it and take my chances with Mistress Masterson. My hand moved to the knife.

  “Relax,” he said in a gravelly voice. His accent reminded me a little of Ingrid’s, a girl who’d come here from a southwestern region of Osfrid called the Flatlands. “I’m not going
to hurt you. You might take that knife to my face if I did.”

  “You heard that?” I asked.

  I was glad the darkness and rain hid my blush. I hadn’t realized I’d had an audience.

  Light shining from the windows provided patchy illumination, and a wide-brimmed hat shadowed much of the man’s face. I could really only make out a long, scraggly dark beard and a number of scars scattered across rough skin.

  “Don’t sound so down about it, girl. It was a good threat, and you were pretty convincing. But it’s not going to work.”

  Annoyance pushed my apprehension aside. “What makes you say that? You hear a five-minute talk and think you’re some kind of expert?”

  “When it comes to this sort of thing? Yes. I am an expert. You scared her. But not enough—otherwise she wouldn’t have locked that door on you. Once she’s had some time to settle down, she’s going to try to call your bluff. She’ll convince herself you won’t really go through with cutting up her face.” He paused meaningfully. “Will you?”

  “I—I don’t know,” I lied. I could just barely see his dark eyes in the shadows now. Their gaze seemed to bore right through me.

  “Well, you should know,” he said. “Don’t make threats you’re not ready to follow through on.”

  I lifted my chin at his condescending tone. “Thank you for the insight, but now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go inside.”

  “How? The door—” He paused to cough. “The door’s locked.”

  “That’s my problem.”

  He coughed again. Or maybe it was a laugh. “Yes, it is. And I’m going to help you with it.”

  From his baggy coat, he pulled out what looked like a small wallet. When he opened it, I saw several thin metal tools of varying lengths. Some were simply straight, and others had curved or hooked ends. He examined a couple in the window’s light, angling his face in a way that gave me a glimpse of a star-shaped scar on his left cheek and a small nick on the outer side of his earlobe.

  “You’re going to pick the lock?” I asked. The rain was lightening, and I pushed back strands of sodden hair.

  He didn’t look up as he sifted through the tools, but his voice held surprise. “How do you know that?”

  “Well . . . because you’re holding a lock pick kit.”

  “That wasn’t what I— Never mind. If you’re so smart, I guess you don’t need me.” He started to close the case.

  I reached toward his arm and then pulled back. “No, wait. I do need you. I’ve seen these before, but I don’t have my own.”

  He waited a few moments, maybe to make me worry, and then opened the case again. He selected a tool with a hooked end and inserted it into the handle’s keyhole. After a few quick motions, I just barely heard a click. He straightened up—as much as his stooped form allowed. “There you go.”

  “You got it on the first try.”

  “This is a common kind of lock.” He slid the tool back into its holder. “It’s not always this easy. Sometimes you’ve got to listen. Feel out the tumbler inside.”

  I reached for the handle. “Well, thank you. I appreciate the help.”

  “Then let me give you a little more. You want that girl to leave you alone? Don’t do it with brute force. That has its place, sure, but information is real power.”

  I let my hand drop back to my side. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, that’s what she’s got over you, right? Information?”

  “Not information. Slander. It’s not true. I’d never—”

  “You’re proving my point,” he interrupted. “Look how worked up you are—over words. So get some on her. She’s got something in her past. Everyone does. Uncover that, and you’ll be the one with the power.” He held out the pick kit. “Take this. It’ll help you get into places you shouldn’t. That’s where you’ll find your answers.”

  I didn’t take it. “I can’t accept this.”

  “I’ve got three more sets at home.” He pushed the kit into my hand and turned around. “Now I’ve got to go find the other chaps before they head back to the village. Stay out of trouble.”

  The man trudged off into the darkness, leaving me with the lock picks. I had a sudden urge to call him back, to ask why he would help me without expecting anything in return. And what in the world would he need that many kits for? Instead, I slipped back into the kitchen and up to my room.

  Tamsin, one of my roommates, was busy writing a letter and gave my rain-soaked state only a brief glance. “I don’t even want to know.”

  Our other roommate, Adelaide, had been sprawled on her bed with a book and bolted upright. “Well, I do! Six, Mira. What happened to you? You’re practically naked.”

  I glanced down and realized she wasn’t entirely wrong. The soaked nightgown clung everywhere. I quickly wrapped a blanket around my body and hoped it had been too dark for the laborer to notice much. “Eh, nothing important. I just accidentally got locked out.”

  That drew Tamsin’s attention back. Little escaped her notice. “Who did it? Clara?”

  “It’s doesn’t matter. Let it go,” I said, wringing water out of my black hair. Clara’s rumors hadn’t reached my roommates yet, and I hoped it stayed that way.

  “Of course it bloody matters.” Tamsin slipped into her Market District dialect when she got emotional. Mistress Masterson would have been horrified. “Do you know how much trouble you’d get in if you were caught out there? Mistress Masterson would think you’d lost your head for some man and were having secret meetings with him.”

  Adelaide laughed and flounced back. “I don’t think anyone would jump to that.”

  “Don’t treat everything like a joke,” Tamsin returned sharply.

  “I’m not! But I can’t really picture Mira losing her head over anything—especially a man. I mean, good grief, where would she find one? The only men we see are the Thorns and a few instructors. And they’re hardly ever here. None of us will even remember how to talk to men by the time we go to Adoria. Mistress Masterson should bring a few around for us to practice with.”

  Adelaide was joking, but Tamsin took the words seriously. She was always watching out for opportunities. “It would be useful to interact with men more often. I’m surprised no one’s thought of it. There’ll be village men at church tomorrow. Maybe I should try talking to some of them. It might give me an extra edge.”

  “You’re obsessed with your edge,” said Adelaide.

  “At least I care.” Tamsin tossed her brilliant red hair over one shoulder. “Honestly, what good was working in a noble’s household all those years if you didn’t pick up anything useful? You should be the best of us all.”

  Adelaide grinned. “You’d smother me in my sleep if I was. This is self-preservation.”

  “Well, second best, then,” Tamsin said huffily.

  I smiled as they slipped into familiar roles and forgot about Clara. Somehow, I’d ended up rooming with both the most ambitious girl in the house and the least ambitious one. It had been obvious from our first day here that Tamsin had an agenda and wasn’t going to let anyone stop her. She studied and worked more than anyone else. She scrutinized every detail and person around her, assessing how they could further her path to greatness.

  And Adelaide? She moved through the world in a different way. She was always quick to smile and find a joke wherever she went. She won everyone over with her easy charm and could talk her way out of anything. That turned out to be pretty useful with our instructors, considering Adelaide’s performances were all over the place. Sometimes she excelled. Sometimes she failed. None of it ever seemed to bother her.

  I loved them both.

  Each girl was powerful in her own way, one always burning with drive and the other so light and playful that she practically danced through her days. Me? I was the mediator, the one who kept those extremes balanced.
/>   I woke up with a renewed energy the next morning. Clara’s rumors had weighed on me for days, and I was eager to see what would come of last night’s “talk.” While dressing, Tamsin discovered a spot on her skirt that neither Adelaide nor I could actually see. It drove Tamsin into crisis mode, and Adelaide and I were ready before she was for a change. We left her to her scrubbing and made our way down to the foyer where other girls waited for the carriages that would take us to the village.

  Cedric milled around with my housemates and lit up at our approach. He usually stayed in Osfro for school but would occasionally run errands at the manors for his father, now that Charles Thorn—Jasper’s brother and the Glittering Court’s other owner—had decided to stay in Adoria. I’d grown to like Cedric for the genuine concern he showed for others—and I’d grown to respect him for his continued dedication to the Alanzans.

  Adelaide was the other girl he’d recruited—a much better choice than me in Jasper’s eyes. I was never jealous of her, but sometimes I felt guilty that Cedric had taken me on, instead of another like her who could give him a higher commission. Despite her inconsistent results, she was the picture of a real Osfridian girl—the kind those Adorian men probably truly wanted. Fair skin, blue eyes, golden brown hair. Perfect speech. Endless charm.

  “Are you going with us, or just going?” I asked. Cedric would sit through an orthodox church service if his cover required it, though he avoided it when possible. Uros had created twelve angels at the beginning of time, and the orthodox believed six had fallen. The Alanzans still revered all twelve and didn’t like listening to sermons that condemned half of those angels as evil.

  “Going.” He patted the suitcase at his side. “But you know I’ll miss you all terribly.”

  “It’s not fair,” Adelaide told him, pretending—badly—to be stern. “You get to go back to the city for all sorts of fun while the rest of us have to sit through a dull service.”

  He attempted an equally serious mien and had about as much success as she did. “It’s for the good of your soul.”