The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court, #1)(104)

I read it as I rode. It was from Tamsin:

Dear Adelaide,

They tell me you can get letters out there, but I’m skeptical. I hope this actually reaches you and doesn’t get eaten by a bear.

Life here is beautiful. I’ve gone to a different party every night. There’ve been a few gentlemen with potential, but I’m still holding out for Warren. His position, both in finances and in power, is exactly what I need. Plus, I’ll be nearer to you! Now, if I could just get him to fall hopelessly, madly in love with me, things would be perfect. It’s a good sign that he told me to wait for him, but I could use a little bit more.

Some of the Grashond settlers are still hanging around, and I wish they would go. I’m tired of seeing them. The only upside of them being here is that it reminds me how nice it is to wear color again.

Mira’s been behaving very strangely. Did she do that while you were here? The last couple of days in particular, she’s been off. Sometimes distracted, sometimes irritable. Since she’s always been the least moody out of all of us, you can imagine how weird that is.

I found out she’s only received one legitimate offer. Did you know that? I guess plenty of men like to dance with her and talk to her, but they leave it at that. The offer is from some ancient plantation owner. And I do mean ancient. He’s at least eighty. I suppose that would make me irritable too, but it’s a very respectable position. He’s well-situated, and she’d have a lot of control of the house, which I think she’d like. And since he is so old, I don’t think he’d ask much of her, if you know what I mean.

I wish I could write more, but that would take time away from doing my hair for tonight’s party. It’s at a shipping magnate’s home. He’s not as good a catch as Warren, but he’s a solid backup—just in case.

I don’t know how you could have given this up for digging in the dirt all day, but I hope you are happy and well.

All my love,

Tamsin

I smiled as I folded up the letter. I could practically hear every word of it coming from Tamsin’s mouth. “She’s always writing letters,” I told Cedric. “It’s nice to finally get one of my own.”

The day was already heating up when we reached the claim, but I hardly noticed anymore. I worked in rolled-up sleeves and a split skirt of light cotton that Mistress Marshall had helped me make, since the suede one was too warm these days. I’d done a lot of the sewing myself, and while my stitches still weren’t great, they were significantly improved.

Also improved was our efficiency once the sluices were set up. A sluice was a wide box that water could run through, filtering through a screen that trapped heavy minerals—ideally, gold. We decided on a few good spots in the river and placed them there, watching for several minutes as though we expected huge gold boulders to immediately get trapped.

“Not an instant gold strike,” I said. “But faster than panning.”

Cedric handed me my pan. “Which we still have to do.”

We’d been out panning in the river for a couple of hours when we heard a voice call, “Thorn, are you here?”

We looked up. Several riders were cutting across the claim and waved their hands in greeting. Cedric waved back and began wading through the water toward them.

I followed close behind. “Who are they?”

“Alanzans. I saw them in town the other day. They just finalized the paperwork on a claim on the far edge of Hadisen—far by design. I know a cousin of theirs. He was one of the Alanzans arrested at the Star Advent that later managed to escape. He’s waiting for them at that claim, and I told them to stop by when they made their trip out.”

Although I’d grown used to the idea of Cedric as an Alanzan, I’d yet to truly meet any others. This group looked perfectly ordinary, not much different from the Marshall clan. They wore rough, working-class clothes and hauled a wagon loaded with supplies. Cedric introduced them as the Galvestons, consisting of a middle-aged couple and their four children. Their oldest son was married and had his pregnant wife with them.

No sordid rituals or prayers followed. The Galvestons had been traveling that day and appreciated the break, especially from the younger children, who ran off to play. We sat with the adults and shared our water, mostly trading news. After a few weeks in Hadisen, Cedric and I felt like veterans and offered what expertise we had. The elder Mister Galveston, named Francis, proved to have more expertise as he surveyed the shanty.

“Why don’t you have anything to seal this roof?” he asked.

“There’s wood there. I nailed the boards in myself.” Cedric’s pride in that feat was obvious, and I couldn’t help smiling. I’d been there that day, and he’d hit his fingers with the hammer at least half a dozen times.

“And it’s going to let in a deluge as soon as this place gets one of its famous storms. You need to get some canvas to cover the gaps. We got the last of it from the supplier in town. You’ll have to wait until his new shipment comes in, or head back to Cape Triumph.”

“I don’t think we’ll be back there anytime soon,” Cedric said. “I’ll have to take my chances with the rain.”

Francis gestured for his older son and Cedric to follow. “We might be able to do some patches. Let’s take a look.”

That left me sitting with the women in the grass. Alice, the daughter-in-law, stretched and rested a hand on her swelling belly. “Are you uncomfortable?” I asked. “Can I get you anything?”