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

He lumbered down the steps without another word, soon disappearing into the crowd on the street. I took a moment to collect myself and continued my journey to the cathedral. The monk remained standing near the door, having observed the whole exchange. He said nothing. The great hood hid his face, but he turned his head and tracked me as I walked inside.

My father had liked conducting clandestine business in churches. No one ever expected it. Only a handful of other people had come inside to pray during the middle of the day in this grand cathedral, one of the biggest in Osfro. They sat solemnly on the glossy wooden pews, heads bowed or eyes fixed on the sculpture of the glorious angel Kyriel that hung before us on the sanctuary wall. A priest in gold and pale green robes quietly lit candles on the altar beneath the angel, and the scent of beeswax and resin filled the air.

I scanned the nave and found the person I sought. I casually made my way over, sitting near him without making eye contact, as though my choice of pew was a coincidence. The wood creaked beneath me, and I nearly sneezed at the man’s pretentious herbal cologne.

Bowing my head, I touched my brow first and then my heart. “All praise to Uros, creator of spirit and flesh,” I murmured. “All praise to his six glorious angels, defenders of the faithful.”

“All praise,” the man beside me echoed.

I lifted my head, fixing my eyes on the glorious Kyriel. The angel held a gilded sword and shield, ready to defend mankind from the six wayward angels. My real interest was in the priest as he continued lighting candles in my periphery. When he’d finished with the last one, he retreated to a small alcove and knelt to pray.

Certain he was preoccupied, I reached into my skirt pocket and took out a small, folded piece of paper. I carefully set it on the pew between my companion and me. After several seconds, he took it and slipped it into his own coat pocket.

“Those are the names of ten Alanzans living in Cape Triumph—at least as of last spring,” I said softly. “I’m sure there are more. But that’s enough to get you connected. You need to memorize them and burn it right away.”

He raised his head. “I know that. Give me some credit.”

Around the nave, stained-glass windows depicted the other angels in rainbow colors. None of them seemed to care that a heretic was sitting beside me. Kyriel didn’t leap forward with his sword. The cathedral’s vaulted ceiling didn’t come crashing down. Uros didn’t hurl lightning from the heavens. Maybe the Alanzans aren’t the heretics, I mused. Maybe their way is the right way, and the orthodox who built this church are actually the heretics. Or maybe they’re both wrong.

I finally turned and met my companion’s eyes. The dim lighting made them appear more gray than blue, but it couldn’t hide their eager sparkle. Cedric Thorn was an extremely handsome man. Not my type—but still nice to look at. I preferred men who were a little rougher around the edges. Men who didn’t so obviously deliberate on their clothing each morning.

“I give you a lot of credit. But people’s lives are on the line.”

His face sobered. “Believe me, I know. Thank you. And here’s something for you.”

My heart sped up as he reached into his coat, cast a quick glance around, and then produced a rolled sheaf of papers. He set it discreetly between us. “Your contract. Admission to the Glittering Court. A ticket to Adoria.”

“Adoria,” I repeated, clenching the papers. The Alanzans I knew had sworn he was a man of integrity, but until this moment, I’d had my doubts that he’d uphold his half of the bargain. Plenty of Osfridians had experimented with the Alanzan faith. Plenty had lost interest and happily turned in the real devotees.

“I made a few inquiries,” he said, still serious, “but I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help find your brother once we’re over there. They don’t always record the names of bond servants. Even when they do, getting those records would require a connection to a customs officer—or enough money to bribe one. I don’t have either.”

“Maybe my husband will.” Husband. The word felt strange on my tongue.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? A husband?”

I could feel Cedric’s gaze on me as I looked down at my hands, still gripping the papers. His polished manners and stylish clothes were deceptive. He might be pretty, but he wasn’t stupid.

What did I want? I wanted Adoria. I wanted to find Lonzo. I wanted a life far away from the war and corruption that had engulfed the country of my birth. Could a rich husband and a new land guarantee all those things? No, but I’d have better odds there than I would here, where I was just another hungry refugee packed into a city that hated us.

“I want a husband,” I reiterated. It was a small price to pay for all those other benefits. I would honor the contract and accept being a wife. If nothing else, I’d have some sort of choice in who I went to bed with, rather than having it dictated by my father.

As though reading my mind, Cedric remarked, “Your father was a great man. I mean, at least from what I’ve heard. He saved so many from persecution. He gave his life for it. You must be so proud.”

“Yes,” I said automatically.

“And I know you want to carry out that legacy. I know you’ve been protecting people here. It’s noble. It’s wonderful. But . . . how should I put this . . . well. You need to settle down. Not just with a husband, but in general.”