The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court, #1)(129)

Gideon brightened. “Then you just need to buy the stake.”

“There’s no ‘just’ about it. I know how much those cost. And we don’t have—” I groaned as the answer hit me. “I know where I can get the money. Maybe. But it won’t be easy.”

“I’m sure it won’t. I wish . . . I wish I could help you on that front. But I’ve already spent my savings buying my own stake.”

I regarded him in astonishment. “Why would a minister from the Heirs of Uros buy a stake in a religiously tolerant colony—one that’s already getting a reputation for wild ways?”

He gave me a wry smile. “Because this minister isn’t so sure he agrees with his brethren anymore.”

“Is that why you’re sympathetic to Cedric?” I asked softly.

“Somewhat. If someone’s beliefs aren’t hurting others, I don’t believe they should be punished for it. And . . .” His face fell. “You were her friend. She spoke of you often. I couldn’t help her, but maybe . . . maybe I can help you.”

“Tamsin,” I said. Familiar tears stung my eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I did what I could to find her—to find out what happened to her that night . . .” He looked genuinely distraught, melting my earlier wariness.

“It’s okay,” I said. “There’s nothing any of us could have done.” But as I reflected on the bizarre inconsistences around Warren’s story about what had happened to Tamsin, I wondered if that was true.

“I don’t know if that’s the case, but I’ll have to come to terms with that later.” He shook off his grief and focused on me again. “For now, tell me how I can help.”

I thought about it. “Can you get me a horse?”

“I have one downstairs. I rode it out from Wisteria Hollow.”

“Well, that’s the first thing that’s worked out for me in a while. Give me a few minutes.” I left him to change out of the dress and into my split skirt and blouse. They’d been laundered and looked a little better. As expected, I also found various weapons hidden around Aiana’s home and helped myself to another knife. Then I penned a quick note and gave it to Gideon with instructions to deliver it to Nicholas Adelton.

“He’s the attorney who’ll help?” Gideon asked.

“I think so.” I considered. “I hope so.”

We went downstairs and found a perky mare tethered in front of the tavern. Gideon patted her. “Her name is Beth.”

I couldn’t help a laugh. “Lizzie and Beth. I can’t escape my past.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just get that letter to Mister Adelton.”

Gideon scrutinized me nervously. “You aren’t going to do anything dangerous, are you? Should I . . . should I come with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” I said, hoping that was true. “Just going for a short ride.”

My short ride, of course, was actually a two-hour one outside the city to Walter’s contact, the one holding my painting. Dusk was falling, and I rode out with my hat pulled low, hoping it wouldn’t be immediately obvious I was a woman. Denham was an established colony and certainly not lawless, but it had its dark element just like any other place. And until the world changed drastically, a woman riding out alone in the night was at risk.

But as I left the city limits and rode down the darkened road, I couldn’t let the possible threats slow me down. Fear was only another enemy, and I had far too many others to worry about just now. Cedric’s salvation was within my grasp, and I would not be defeated.

Mira had given me back the sheet with Walter’s names and locations, and I carried it now. I also had a letter he’d written, authorizing his contact to yield the painting. It was a two-hour trip south, then back to the city, and then another two hours up north to the buyer. I’d be out all night, and there was a good chance I might not make the trial’s start tomorrow. I urged Beth on, knowing I risked exhausting her.

Amazingly, I encountered almost no one on the road. Those I did pass didn’t give me a second glance. It was deep night when I rode into Idylwood, a sleepy village that showed the promise of eventually becoming a flourishing town. Walter’s contact was the town’s blacksmith, and I found his home easily. I tied Beth up near a trough, which she drank from gratefully.

The blacksmith was surprised to see me—even more surprised that I was a woman. He read the letter and handed it back with a shrug. “I guess Walter employs all types now. Come with me.”

He led me to a locked shed in the back that, when opened, revealed mostly a lot of junk. I worried what shape my painting would be in. He moved things aside and finally pulled out a cloth-wrapped, rectangular object. I unwrapped it and examined it by the light of my lantern. It was my painting, in exactly the same condition as I’d last seen it in Wisteria Hollow’s cellar.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“Very. Thank you.”

I wrapped it back up in its padding, and he helped me tie it to the back of Beth’s saddle. It wasn’t ideal for transportation, but I felt confident the canvas wouldn’t tear. A little bouncing wouldn’t hurt it much.

Beth and I rode off back on the black road to Cape Triumph. A quarter moon offered little guidance, and I was glad this was a well-worn and traveled road. When I reached the edge of the city, I ended up circling around it. Taking the extra time seemed like a better choice than being recognized.