The Glittering Court
Page 102

“Tamsin.” I’d never heard her ramble in all our time together. “You can tell me anything. Go ahead and ask whatever you need to.”
So, she did.
I fell silent for a long time afterward, trying to wrap my mind around what I’d just heard. The longer I didn’t speak, the more troubled she became.
“You think I’m a terrible person, don’t you?”
“What? Of course not.” I drew her to me again. I remembered when, long ago, she’d told me I had no idea how much she had on the line. And she’d been right. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. And of course I’ll help.”
Her brown eyes shone with tears. “It’s a lot to ask. And I understand if Cedric doesn’t want you to spend the money. It’s his right to—”
“Cedric wouldn’t mind. And it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to touch the Hadisen money.”
I scanned the crowd, half hoping Nicholas Adelton might have turned out. No such luck. Legally, I probably didn’t need his help, but he certainly would’ve made things neater. After substantial evidence had condemned Warren to a ship back to Osfrid to answer for his multilayered conspiracy, a legal nightmare had ensued over the land he owned in Hadisen. In matters of treason, land like that usually reverted to the crown. But he’d had a number of leaseholders working the land, and in a generous gesture, the courts had ended up gifting those claims. Rather than deal with the excavation, Cedric had sold his for an impressive price—giving us the means to pay off my contract and build savings for Westhaven. Nicholas had been instrumental in helping us sort matters out, so I suppose he’d earned a break from us.
I spied one of the Westhaven laborers nearby, keeping track of inventory with a pen and sheaf of paper. I talked him into lending the pen and giving me a piece of paper. He was one of those who was starstruck over the truth about my past, and when I thanked him, he simply stammered, “No problem, m-m’lady.”
I knelt down to make a desk out of my knees and began writing: I, Elizabeth Thorn née Witmore . . .
I stopped, unsure what to write next. Using my legal first name wasn’t the issue. It was what came next. Or did anything come next? I’d been gone more than a year. My cousin Peter would most certainly carry the exalted Rupert’s title now.
I, Elizabeth Thorn née Witmore, former Countess of Rothford, authorize the release of my surety money to Lady Alice Witmore, to be spent in the terms outlined below . . .
Tamsin watched me write each word, and I was pretty sure she didn’t breathe the entire time. When I signed and finished, she read it over again, and then looked at me hopefully. “That’s all it’ll take?”
“It should be. That money’s been isolated from any family debt for years and is legally mine, now that I’m married. It’s not a lot—if it was, I would have had fewer problems. But it’s enough for what you need, and Grandmama will see that everything gets followed through.” I reached into my skirt pocket and produced a folded bundle of more paper. Along with a copy of my marriage certificate, it also contained a long-overdue letter. “I’ll just add it to what I’m already sending her. Silas Garrett is supposed to deliver it and verify that he compared me to the portrait and saw me alive. I’m just not sure where he is.”
Tamsin pointed. “He’s over there, speaking with that awful Grant Elliott. He seemed so polite at first, but he’s actually got quite an attitude, you know.”
Sure enough, the two of them stood removed from the throng, having what looked like a friendly conversation. I still didn’t know their exact connection, save that they’d both played a part in having Warren arrested. Silas was transporting Warren back to Osfrid for a treason trial while Grant remained behind in the colonies.
“He can’t be that awful,” I told Tamsin as we walked toward them. “They say he was responsible for the evidence tying Warren to the Lorandians.”
“Well, I’m just glad he finally seems to have shaved,” she said. “He has, hasn’t he? The beard looks much neater than usual.”
Grizzled Silas gave me a nod of greeting when we reached them. “Mistress Thorn, I wondered when I’d see you. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” I handed the bundle of papers to him. “It should be easy to find my grandmother. I’m sure she’ll still be in Osfro.”
Silas tucked the papers into his coat’s inner pocket. “I’ll find her. Anything else you need me to deliver?”
I shook my head, but Tamsin hesitantly stepped forward. “If it’s not too much trouble, Mister Garrett . . . I also have some letters. The address is in Osfro. I can pay you—”
“Just get them to me before we sail in two days,” Silas said.
“How is your prisoner?” I asked.
“Miserable,” Grant answered. He grinned, and I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be charming or terrifying. “He’s locked up in the ship’s hold, and I visit him every day, just to make sure he stays miserable.”
Mira joined us, overhearing that last comment. “He’s probably going to be executed in Osfrid for treason. I don’t think you have to worry about him feeling cheerful anytime soon.”
“That conniving bastard’s treachery nearly started a war that would’ve drawn in Osfrid, the Icori, Lorandy, the Balanquans, and Uros knows who else. It would’ve ravaged this land and cost countless lives. So I don’t really think it’s overkill to make sure he’s suffering.” Grant paused, almost eloquently. “I like to be thorough.”
Mira rolled her eyes and turned to Tamsin and me. “Can we talk?”
We made our goodbyes to the men and wandered away. Tamsin had nearly wept after I’d written the letter, thanking me profusely, but her face was alight now, in that endearing, cunning way.
“Are you finally going to tell us, Mira?” she demanded. “Surely you won’t let poor Adelaide go off into some forsaken land without telling her what you’re going to do. It’d be so cruel. She’ll worry the whole time.”
Mira had told us recently that she’d “made a decision” about her future, but we had no idea what it was. Maybe she’d decided to marry the elderly gentleman. Maybe she’d decided to go back to Osfrid and work. Neither of those seemed likely, though, given the smile I kept seeing on her face. After her spectacular attack on Warren—which I’d learned was credited to Aiana’s training—nothing Mira did surprised me anymore.
And it seemed the mystery would continue a little longer.
“Sorry,” Mira said. “I can’t tell you yet. But soon.”
“So cruel,” repeated Tamsin.
Mira caught me in a tight embrace. “Mostly, I just wanted to come tell you goodbye. It seems like we’re always doing that, doesn’t it?”
I pulled Tamsin into our hug. “And we always keep coming back together. I’m sure I’ll be able to get back to Cape Triumph once in a while. And I hope you’ll come visit me in Westhaven.”
“Of course,” said Mira.
“Just let us know when you have an actual house built that has enough beds—real beds, not straw on the floor—for everyone,” said Tamsin. “And you can bet we’ll be right there.”