Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(102)

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, it 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?”