The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court, #1)(61)

Mira followed my gaze. “They’re around. But not as many as there used to be, now that most outside threats are gone.”

“Then who keeps order inside? The militia?” I asked. Cape Triumph had no official city guard as Osfro did. The military was usually charged with primary law enforcement in the colonies, with the rest delegated to volunteer and locally organized groups.

“Them. Other agents of the crown. Pirates.”

“Aren’t pirates, by definition, breaking the law?”

“Not always. Haven’t you heard how some of them walk the streets and help people in danger?” Mira’s face was alight, caught up in the heroic drama she loved.

“No. When did you hear that?”

“I talk to the guards sometimes. It’s more interesting than listening to all the visiting suitors.”

“Oh. You mean the visiting suitors who’ll play an influential role in your future?”

“Those are the ones,” she answered with a grin.

Our destination was a vast hall on the opposite side of downtown. It was large, wooden, and plain, nothing at all like the grand ballrooms of Osfrid that were housed in ancient estates and castles. But this was apparently the largest place for a social function, and as we took in the crowds and guests gathered out front, I hoped it would be big enough to hold everyone. Our carriages traveled to a back door so that we could enter in private.

We gathered in an antechamber inside and were subjected to another inspection as Mistress Culpepper made sure our dresses and hairstyles had survived the journey. I spotted the Thorns huddled together, joined by a tall woman I’d never seen before. At first, I thought she was Sirminican, with her black hair and dusky complexion. But there was something about her that was different, the set of her high cheekbones and a general sense of . . . otherness. Her outfit, though made of nice fabric, resembled a riding dress with split skirts. It seemed out of place here, as did her hair, lying in one long braid down her back. That wasn’t fashionable anywhere.

I turned back and started to say something to Mira about it when I discovered that Cedric had come up beside us. His hands were in the pockets of a long, fitted knee-length coat of a steel-blue damask that enhanced his gray eyes. I’d never seen him in that color and was struck by the effect. It set off the auburn of his hair and could have easily passed him off as Osfridian nobility. Except that I’d never met any noble who made me suddenly feel so flushed and warm.

I realized then that Cedric was staring at me too and that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the only one feeling flushed. “You clean up well,” I said.

“So . . . do you.”

“Like you’ve ever seen me not clean up well.”

“Well, I’ve seen you when you’re . . .” He stopped, realizing Mira was here. “. . . when you’re in less elaborate outfits. Like that, uh, one time.”

“Of course you’d bring that up.” I took a bold step toward him and twirled to show off the decadence of the dress. “But this is a serious improvement. It’s like a dream. Not so much that other outfit.”

“Well . . .” He looked me over in a way that made my blush deepen. “I guess it depends on the type of dream.”

Mira cleared her throat and asked, “Is everything okay with your family? I thought I saw you and your father arguing earlier.”

That seemed to pull him back to the present, and he finally looked away from me. “Just more of our usual dysfunction. We were ‘discussing’ who’d do Adelaide’s introductions. He wanted to, but I argued it should be me, as you’re my . . . acquisition.” It was a term he’d always used freely in the past, but he stumbled over it tonight.

“And?” I prompted.

“I won.”

I grinned. “When don’t you?”

A rueful look crossed his face. “Well, it’s on the condition that you meet Warren Doyle first. So long as I arrange that, my father’s fine with everything else.”

After we made our grand procession in the room, interested suitors would approach Glittering Court representatives to arrange dances and conversations with us. It was to prevent us from being mobbed.

“Are you making mine too?” asked Mira.

Cedric shook his head and gestured to the tall woman. “Aiana is.”

Mira studied the woman curiously. “Who is she?”

“She’s Balanquan,” he said. “Does various jobs for us.”

Mira and I exchanged astonished looks. The Balanquan people, like the Icori, had been in Adoria when Osfridians and others from across the Sunset Sea had arrived. There had been no wars or territorial disputes with the Balanquans as there had with the Icori. This was partially due to their northern lands being less hospitable and partially because they made a more formidable enemy than the less advanced Icori. Their culture was supposed to be sophisticated and rich—albeit very foreign from ours.

“What is she doing here?” asked Mira. The Balanquans had attempted some arbitration for the Icori and Osfridians but mostly stayed away from us.

“Uncle Charles contracts her,” Cedric explained. “Usually, her job is following up with girls after they’ve married. If she sees anything amiss or any bad treatment, she . . . deals with it.”

Before we could ask for more details, Mistress Culpepper called us into formation to make our grand entrance. Just as before, I would lead. My hands began to shake with nervousness, and I fiercely fought for control. I’d been announced and entered alone in countless parties back in Osfrid. I was no stranger to crowds or displays, unlike many of the other girls. They might have completed their training, they might look the part of nobility, but what we were about to do was beyond what many of them had ever experienced. Some were pale, others trembling.