Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(42)

“Is it hard for you here? Being Balanquan?” I faced enough prejudice, and I had much more in common with the locals than she did.

“In some ways. Not in others. I don’t make any secret of who I am, and that’s easier than trying to dress or behave like one of you. If I did, I’d always be lacking. It’s better being true to myself and openly Balanquan. People don’t question my identity. Now, how they feel about Balanquans personally? That’s always a surprise.”

“Grant says things are simpler when he plays up his Osfridian side.”

“Simpler for others, maybe. As for him? Well, nothing is simple with him. But yes, he speaks like a local and shows enough of his father’s side that no one gives him a second glance. I don’t even think the benefits of seeming fully Osfridian matter as much as just proving he can transform into whoever he wants. As long as he can do that, he doesn’t have to figure out who he is.” Her gaze turned inward a moment as she pondered her own words. A few moments later, she shook off the mood and became stern. “Well. Don’t let his goals interfere with yours, Mira. You didn’t come here to chase conspiracies, and the instant you want free of that, let me know.”

Something in her words triggered a question that had long bugged me. “You just called me Mira. He always calls me Mirabel. Is there any reason for that? Or just his own quirk?”

That smile returned. “Names have meaning. Power. Mirabel is your birth name, right? The one your parents gave you? It defines you. Shortening it or making a nickname out of it diminishes that importance. So, we give other names if needed. Those who take on new status—a military leader, for example—can choose another name for that role. A person who’s been shunned may also choose something different. And in affectionate relationships—friend, family, husband, wife—we usually end up calling them something different too. A name just between two people. It signifies a bond. It could be something as simple as ‘brother’ or ‘sister.’ It could be something descriptive. The best translation for this is . . . a ‘close name.’”

“But you don’t keep that custom if you call me Mira.”

“I keep it among my people. With you, I feel it’s more important to adhere to your customs.”

I pondered all of that. “Is I-yi-yitsi Grant’s birth name?”

“Iyitsi,” she corrected. “It’s what I call him. He never told me his Balanquan birth name.”

“Does it mean anything?”

“Iyitsi is one of our gods. A trickster. The masked god. The god with many faces.” Her eyes sparkled again. “He hates it, but I think it fits him perfectly.”

Mulling over what I knew of Grant, I said, “I couldn’t agree more.”





CHAPTER 11


I HAD MIXED FEELINGS ONCE THE REAL BUSINESS OF the Glittering Court began. On the one hand, I welcomed a break in the doldrums we’d fallen into. But it also meant I had to face up to the future I’d been trying to escape. I could no longer let Tamsin’s loss be the center of my thoughts.

Technically, we were still in mourning when potential suitors started showing up. Jasper and Charles had made it publicly clear that we weren’t officially “on the market” until after our opening ball, but they also didn’t turn away men who claimed they only wanted to make polite inquiries. Some of these men really did stop by out of general curiosity—wanting to know prices, what qualities to expect in us, etc. Other men, however, had been present at our arrival and had already spotted specific girls of interest.

My hideaway on the landing had been compromised when my housemates realized it looked down on the parlor where the Thorns received their visitors. Unable to resist, we would all gather in an excited huddle to eavesdrop on the conversations below. Each girl hoped to hear her name mentioned and also wanted to check out everyone else’s prospects. They cooed over who seemed the handsomest, the most romantic. Me? I assessed the suitors in a much cooler way, trying to determine which one might give me the least hassle and most freedom.

I was also enthralled at seeing the Thorns at work. Selling and pitching ran in their blood, even docile Charles. The three of them took turns managing these meetings, though sometimes, more than one Thorn would greet a man. I loved those meetings best because the suitors never stood a chance.

One man who had the bad luck of facing down both Cedric and Jasper especially made me pay attention—because he was on Grant’s list.

His name was Theodore Craft. He’d made his fortune by operating a number of distilleries in Denham and adjacent colonies. Grant’s mentor, Silas Garrett, had begun investigating him just before Grant left. Apparently, Craft made oddly timed—and suspicious—trips to visit his holdings, trips someone of his means didn’t even probably need to make in person.

I leaned forward as Cedric urged him to sit. Theodore was a stout man, balding at the temples, and dressed to impress. He was interested in Beatrice, a girl from Guthshire, and made no pretense about why he wanted her.

“I like blondes,” he stated. Since no one knew anything about us except our looks, attraction was pretty much the only reason a man might be drawn to one of us. A lot of them would try to make up deeper reasons, saying things like “She looks like she’s a hard worker.” But we knew the truth.

“Well, we have a number of them,” said Cedric, cheerful as ever. “All talented and lovely.”