The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court, #1)(36)

It was hard for me to reconcile the brash Cedric I thought I knew with this one who was so seriously discussing spiritual matters—matters that sounded nonsensical to someone raised in the orthodox worship of the one god Uros, worship that took place inside solid churches with orderly services. When I looked away and didn’t respond, Cedric remarked softly, “It’s funny—I knew when this came out, others would look at me differently. Reject me. I braced myself for it. But somehow, I didn’t expect it’d bother me so much that you think less of me . . .”

I glanced back up at him, taken in by the tone of his voice. What I saw in his face confused me, especially when he drew the greatcoat more tightly around us. I swallowed and moved to a somewhat safer topic. “Is there some other way to get the money and get a stake in the colony? Can’t you ask your father or uncle?”

“You know my father,” Cedric scoffed. “He has no idea I’m part of this. He’d probably turn me in himself. I discovered the Alanzans when I started at the university a couple of years ago, and finally, something just made sense for me in the world. It felt so right, but I knew better than to breathe a word of it to anyone, even my own kin. My uncle wouldn’t help either—he just follows my father’s lead. As for other funds . . . I could find some kind of work over there, but it would take a while to make the money needed for the colony, especially if I don’t finish my degree here. I’d probably end up as a laborer, going when the colony opened to all settlers—but that won’t happen right away. Anyone outside the initial charter members settling in the colony probably wouldn’t get citizenship until next year.”

“Well, you can’t stay here to finish your degree,” I said firmly. “Surely there must be other ways of quickly making money.”

He chuckled. “If they existed, would your family have been struggling? I mean, yes, there are plenty of get-rich-quick schemes in the New World—and some of them work. But really, the Glittering Court’s one of the best. Moving any kind of luxury goods—even young women—can have big returns over there. They don’t have access to the kinds of things we do here.”

“What kind of luxury goods?” I asked, trying to ignore my increased shivering.

“Spices, jewelry, china, glass.” He paused to think. “My father makes a fortune on the side selling fabric. He brings it over with the girls, and it more than covers what gets spent on your wardrobes—which he then resells for more profit once you’re all married. One-of-a-kind things are valuable too. Antique furniture. Art.”

That pulled me in. “Art? What kind of art?”

“Any kind. There are no galleries over there, no great masters. And few people here go to the trouble of shipping their rare paintings or sculptures over the ocean to sell there. Too complicated. Too risky. But—if they did, there’s a huge profit to be made. Damn it—I can hear your teeth. We need to go.”

He started to lead me in the direction I’d come, but I pushed obstinately back, keeping us where we stood. “Then . . . if you could sell a painting, that’d go a long way in helping earn your fee.”

He shook his head. “If I could sell the right kind of painting to the right buyer, I could more than cover my stake in Westhaven.”

“Then you need to get a painting.”

“Valuable ones aren’t exactly lying around. I mean, they are in my uncle’s manors, but I won’t steal from my own family.”

“You don’t have to steal one if you can make your own,” I said excitedly.

“I can’t make any—”

“Not you. Me. Don’t you remember that day in Osfro? The poppy painting?”

He fell silent. His eyes were dark in the dim lighting, surveying me thoughtfully. “I thought that was some kind of game.”

“It wasn’t. Well, I mean it was . . . it’s hard to explain. But I can do it. I can replicate all sort of famous paintings. Or if you don’t want an exact duplicate, I can imitate an artist’s style and claim we found some lost work. That Florencio hanging by the drawing room? I could do that easily, given enough time.”

“You want to sell a counterfeit painting in Adoria?” he asked in disbelief.

“Do you think they’d honestly know the difference?” I challenged.

“If we were caught—”

“Add it to the list of the other things we could get in trouble for.”

“It’s becoming kind of a long list.” But that initial worry was giving way to a warmth and enthusiasm I knew. The Cedric I knew—the schemer and salesman. He looked down at me for long moments as the wind whistled around us. “Do you know what you’re getting into by doing this?”

“No more than what you did when you protected me that night at the Osfro city gates. I told you I’d owe you a favor.”

I could feel the decision settle around him. “Okay then. We’ll do this. But first—we need to get inside.”

We left the meager safety of the lean-to, both of us shivering. He doused the lanterns while I picked up my holly. Watching him, I felt that previous unease begin to stir within me as all the warnings from dour priests played through my mind. Then Cedric returned to me, his face alight and eager with a plan before us, and those warnings faded to background noise. He draped the greatcoat around me as best he could as we walked back toward the manor, huddled together.