The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court, #1)(125)

Walter produced a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here’s his name and address. And that’s the location of the man holding the painting right now.”

“You don’t have it?” I exclaimed. The second address was in a neighboring town in Denham.

“I survive in this business by making sure nothing’s ever linked directly to me. The painting’s safe, but certainly not hanging in my own bedroom,” he said. “If he agrees to the deal, you can complete the transaction yourself or wait until I’m back to do it. Just don’t spend my commission.”

“We’ll help you with the rest,” said Mira. “We’ll make it work.”

“All for money that may or may not help Cedric,” I muttered.

Aiana rested a hand on my shoulder, a steely look in her eyes. “Having a backup supply of money isn’t just about helping him. You need to accept that there’s a chance Cedric may not get out of this. And if he doesn’t, you’re going to need your own resources to escape.”





Chapter 29


Aiana put together a makeshift pallet in the corner of her sitting room. When I woke the next morning, she was gone, and I set about preparing for the day. The dresses Mira had brought were nowhere near the extravagant affairs of the Glittering Court, but they were still something an upper-class Denham woman would wear. The one I chose was made of ivory cambric scattered with sprigs of pink and purple flowers. The dress felt foreign to me after a month in rough gear, the fabric dangerously delicate. I didn’t mind being back in something nice, but it was a reminder of how much my life had changed.

I just had finished arranging my hair when Aiana returned. “I thought you were going with Mira,” I said.

“I’m going with you. I saw her off—she’s on her way.”

Again, I felt that nervous pang about losing another friend. “Is she alone?”

“No.”

Aiana offered no other information, and I took it that I wasn’t meant to ask more about it.

A crowd had gathered outside the courthouse when we arrived. Even in a lively city like Cape Triumph, this was serious drama. The governor’s son, an illicit romance, heresy . . . citizens were dying to get a front-row seat. Aiana steered me by them and up to the entrance, where a court official waved us through.

The courtroom was already full, with seating set aside for principal players. One of those seats was for me, and I sat down, noticing that Jasper wasn’t too far away. He gave me a cold nod and then pointedly looked in the opposite direction. Over near the front, Governor Doyle sat with Viola by his side and other advisors nearby. Two rows of seats were still empty, and those I watched avidly. At last, a bailiff opened a side door and led in the held men. Warren was first, looking remarkably smug given the circumstances. Cedric came last, and my heart leapt at the sight of him.

He needed a shave, and his arm was still in the sling, of course. But otherwise, he moved well and had lost more of his bruises. I wondered if that was a good or bad thing. It might have helped our case if we’d had proof of how badly he’d been beaten. He scanned the room and caught my eye, giving me a small nod to tell me he was okay. He even managed a ghost of his usual smile, but it was strained.

Everyone rose when the tribunal entered, consisting of seven men. They were magistrates and other prominent Denham figures. Normally, the governor would lead the group, but Governor Doyle had to sit out for obvious reasons. A magistrate named Adam Dillinger had instead been appointed as the lead.

“We’re here to rule on a . . . complicated dispute that took place in Hadisen Colony. Here, we will seek out the truth in accordance with the laws of our mother Osfrid. Let us pray to Uros for guidance.”

He led us in prayer, and most everyone in the room bowed their heads solemnly. Peeking up, I saw that several people were watching Cedric, as though they expected him to stand up and conduct some black rite then and there.

“Mister Doyle,” said Magistrate Dillinger. “Please come up and tell your story.”

Warren strode forward. He’d washed and shaved and wore new clothes, which irked me. That came of having supporters here. Cedric looked shabby by comparison, but who did he have to rely on? Certainly not his family. And I hadn’t been able to dress myself without charity.

No one needed Warren’s background, but he gave it anyway, painting himself as a model citizen who’d followed in his father’s footsteps. He made sure to remind everyone of all the good things Governor Doyle had done and how Warren humbly hoped to emulate his father in Hadisen.

“As part of my new position, I knew it was crucial I seek a wife and advocate of righteous family values. When the Glittering Court began its new season, I began courting one of its girls—a young woman who called herself Adelaide Bailey.”

Half of the courtroom turned to stare at me, and I kept my gaze focused forward, refusing to meet any of them in the eye.

“By all appearances, Miss Bailey seemed like an honest, virtuous girl. She led me to believe she was interested in me and was on the verge of contracting a marriage. It was then that I found out she’d been . . . involved with Cedric Thorn, one of the Glittering Court’s procurers.” There was no mistaking what he meant by “involved.”

“That’s a serious accusation,” said one of the tribunal members.