Midnight Jewel

by Richelle Mead

  “You’re pretty skilled with a plank,” Tom said. He gestured toward the board I had dropped.

  I held out my knife. “It seemed more effective than this.”

  He leaned closer, but it was only to look. “A pillow would be more effective than that. At least then you could suffocate someone. A proper guardian angel needs a proper sword. But first things first. Let’s get in out of the cold and find a drink.”

  Leave with him? Absolutely not. There was only so much benefit of the doubt I was willing to give. “I’m sorry, I can’t. There’s somewhere I’m supposed to be.”

  “Right here, apparently.” Tom waved around. “You help saved innocents. Sounds like fate to me.”

  “Why were those men attacking her?”

  “Her husband is one of my associates, and that lot thinks they’ve been wronged. It was pure and simple revenge.”

  “So you were the one in the right?”

  “Always,” he said, chuckling again. “Always.”

  I didn’t know if I believed him, but his smile was infectious. “I’m just glad they’re okay. And you. But really, I can’t stay.” I kept my tone light . . . and my hold on the knife strong.

  Tom didn’t push any further. “Suit yourself, but I’ll feel terrible for the rest of the night, you know. I hate unpaid debts. Here.” He made a big show of producing a coin from his pocket and handed it to me. It looked like a standard Osfridian copper, but the side with the king’s face had been heated and re-engraved with a feather. On the other side, the seal of Osfrid had been crossed over with “TS.”

  “Defacement of the king’s coin is illegal,” I said.

  “The king’s coin? I don’t see his initials on it.” Tom closed my fingers around the coin and held my hand in his. “This is my personal token, given out to only a few when I owe a debt. So if you need a favor, come cash this in at the tavern of the Dancing Bull.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, wondering what favor I could possibly need from him.

  “Do.” He stepped away and bowed, again making a big show of throwing back his cape, before disappearing into the darkness. “Until next time, angel.”

  Just when I didn’t think my night could get any weirder, I crossed paths with Aiana as I neared the entrance by the fort. She’d seen me in the blonde disguise before but still did a double take. “Mira? Is that you?”

  I stopped and hoped the mask would conceal my feelings. “It’s me.”

  She beckoned me toward a building, away from the busy pedestrian thoroughfare. I caught the faint scent of wine on her. “Did you give Grant what he needed?”

  “Eh, that’s debatable, but I delivered the news I had.”

  “Then I’ll walk you home,” she said.

  I shook my head. “You’re on your way somewhere else. I don’t want to delay you.”

  She nudged me forward. “I was just going to my place. My night is done. Come on.”

  I didn’t think I needed an escort, but tolerating her company was probably easier than arguing with her. And she wasn’t Grant.

  We walked in companionable silence until we reached the highway. She exhaled. “What a night.”

  That was an understatement. “Was yours good at least?” I asked.

  “No, not at all.” Her voice sounded more upbeat than I’d expect for that kind of statement. No, not upbeat. Rueful. “Iyitsi will enjoy telling me all about how he warned me.”

  I frowned, vaguely recalling Grant’s earlier words. “He said . . . he said something about a romance.”

  Aiana laughed at that. “Did he? I can imagine the way he said it.”

  “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

  “It’s fine. I just hate that he’s always right. It makes him smug—more so than usual.” She sighed again, her voice growing sober. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m not cut out for love.”

  “No!” I exclaimed. “You’re wonderful. You just haven’t met the right person yet. Don’t listen to him.”

  “You’re sweet. And he is probably the last person I should be getting advice from. I mean, you’ve been around him enough. He’s not that sentimental. Certainly no romantic.”

  I hesitated, unsure if I really wanted to know the answer to what I asked next. “That one night you two fought . . . you mentioned something to him about how you at least learn your lovers’ names . . .”

  She groaned. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was mean. And to be fair, I’m sure he learns their names first. Though I doubt he remembers them.”

  “It’s hard to picture him, um, having any lovers.”

  “Well, ‘lover’ might be too generous a term. Maybe ‘partner’ is better? I always think a lover is someone you see more than once. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not exactly a common occurrence for him. He doesn’t usually have the patience to charm anyone.”

  “I can’t really picture him charming anyone either.”

  “Oh, he can do it if he really tries.” We wound along a trail as she pondered my question. After a few moments, she chuckled. “I remember one time we were traveling up north and stopped at an inn for the night. We were eating in their common room, and they had this lovely barmaid waiting the tables. The most beautiful blue eyes in the world. And he came to life.”

  Suddenly, I was absolutely certain I didn’t want to hear this. “Aiana, you really don’t need to—”

  “You wouldn’t have recognized him. I barely did. Who’d have thought he could be so charming? I suppose it’s just another one of Iyitsi’s masks. He put everything he had into wooing her—and it seemed to be working. After she finished her shift, she sat at our table all evening. She laughed. She smiled. She was having a good time. He was so proud of himself too. And why not? Since she stayed so long, she must have been interested, right?”

  When Aiana paused, I realized I was supposed to say something. “Um, I guess?”

  “Oh yes. She was definitely interested. Just not in him.” Aiana laughed so loudly that I glanced around uneasily. “You should’ve seen the look on his face when she went back to my room. I almost feel bad about it sometimes. Almost. He had better luck with some other girl the next night, so things worked out for him. Then we were on the road again, and he never looked back. He never does. He doesn’t want to be attached to anyone. He doesn’t want them to be attached to him.”

  I was past the point of even trying to carry my half of the conversation. One foot in front of the other. That was all I had to do. We’d reached the marsh, so Wisteria Hollow wasn’t much farther.

  “So, that’s him. But me? I don’t know.” Aiana’s voice continued in the darkness, suddenly more subdued. “A night like that is fun, but it’s not what I really want. I want to wake up to the same person every morning. I want to be able to tell her anything. I want honesty and understanding. I want to be dizzy with love and feel it grow more and more each day. But maybe that’s too much to ask. Maybe you and Iyitsi have it right after all.”

  “What?” Was it possible she’d found out?

  “I see you at those parties, Mira. You’re like him. You aren’t looking for attachment either.” The lights of Wisteria Hollow peeped through the trees ahead. Her earlier sadness returned. “You stay cool. You don’t lose your head. And you know what? You should probably keep doing that—because then you won’t lose your heart either.”

  I stared up at the sky, noting the position of Ariniel’s star. “Thanks,” I said dully. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  CHAPTER 18

  I SPENT ALMOST THE ENTIRE NEXT DAY PROCESSING WHAT had happened with Grant. His rejection filled me with humiliation. I’d brushed off a lot of advances over the years, and as much as I hated to admit it, they had left me with the egotistical assumption that of course men wanted me. All I had to do was show up. Discovering that wasn’t true still stung.


  Aiana’s tipsy recounting of Grant’s past left me unsettled too—but that was a more complex feeling to understand. Why should I care that he sought impersonal, one-time liaisons? His dislike of attachment had never been a secret. And I’d made my own intentions very clear. I wanted my own shot at passion before being locked into marriage. I’d even gone so far as to say it didn’t matter if I liked him or not. So, why had he sent me away? I’d offered him exactly the type of arrangement he liked.

  “You look like I feel.”

  I blinked out of my dreary thoughts to find Cedric leaning against the staircase’s bannister. Everyone had returned from the evening’s social affairs, and I was the last one to come inside from my group. I stifled a yawn and paused at the bottom of the steps. He was as dashing and impeccably dressed as ever, but an obvious gloom hung over him.

  “You look pretty down yourself,” I said. “What’s your excuse? Too much dancing and small talk? That’s what’s worn me out.”

  His expression stayed dark. “I wish that’s what it was. Did you hear about the Alanzans who were taken?”

  “What? No . . .” But then I remembered Grant mentioning how Warren Doyle’s patrols had succeeded in arresting their first batch of heretics. I hadn’t known what sect they’d captured. I peered around, verifying we were alone. “Were you there when they came?”

  “I got away. I was one of the lucky ones.”

  “If you were recognized—”

  “I wasn’t.”

  I repressed the urge to chastise him about the dangers of worshipping with others of his faith. I’d been around enough Alanzans in my life, however, to realize the futility of that argument. Their principles were too strong. “What will happen to them?”

  “They’re being held in a city jail right now. Tomorrow, they’ll get split up. Some will be locked away at the prison in Archerwood. Others have been sentenced to penal servitude. Do you know what that is?”

  “Unfortunately.” I felt sickened, thinking of those poor prisoners’ fates and the abuses of the system. In my head, those Alanzans wore the faces of Pablo, Fernanda, and countless other friends.

  “And there’s nothing I can do about it.” He gave me a wan smile. “I wish I could be like your father. He wouldn’t let them sit there. I wish I had the courage—and skill—to march up there and set them free. But I’d probably just get myself arrested. Or killed.”

  I patted his arm. “Don’t do something reckless or blame yourself. You show your courage in other ways.”

  He looked skeptical of that and bid me good night. But as he retreated, I felt my heart start to race. Cedric was right about one thing. My father wouldn’t let those Alanzans suffer in prison or forced servitude. He wouldn’t prance around in jewels and finery while they awaited grim fates. He would take action. He would march up there and set the Alanzans free. He would call me selfish for standing to the side. He would call me a coward . . . again.

  But I wasn’t my father, no matter how much I wanted to be sometimes. The desire to help the Alanzans burned in my chest. I needed to act, to strike out and save the innocent. But I couldn’t break into a jail. I didn’t command a network of freedom fighters.

  Or did I?

  I sprinted to my room and lifted my mattress, retrieving the coin Tom had given me. I squeezed it in my hand. I commanded one freedom fighter. Well, maybe “commanded” wasn’t the right word. But he did owe me a favor. What was that favor worth?

  It was time to find out.

  I made my usual escape, and along the woodsy trail, I noted that the ground was softening even more as the weather warmed. I wore pretty kid leather shoes tonight, which were an upgrade from dance slippers, but they still sank deep in the mud. I’d have to scrub them before Mistress Culpepper saw.

  In Cape Triumph proper, I had to ask for directions a few times before locating the Dancing Bull Tavern. Inside, I found it just as packed as the tavern Grant and I had hid in, but it didn’t have the same sleazy edge. It was more brightly lit too. Sure, there were made-up women there—women whose intentions were obvious. But they moved about discreetly, with no vulgar public displays. Only two women were roughly dressed, like me. They sat at their tables and drank with hardened eyes, giving the impression that anyone who harassed them would soon regret it.

  The rest of the patrons were men. Many wore masks. Some huddled in corners, furtive expressions on their faces. Others, more boisterous, played cards and dice in large groups. Attire ran the full range of common work clothes to the showier looks of the pirates. Some of that pirate attire appeared well-worn, but a number of men displayed the excessively flamboyant, impractical look of pirate pretenders. A man in a white apron scurried around to keep everyone’s ale filled, and a woman working the bar made sure there was plenty on hand.

  I didn’t see Tom anywhere.

  Suddenly doubting myself, I lingered just inside the door and contemplated my next move. Tom hadn’t provided detailed instructions. A few men eyed me curiously, and I realized I needed to do something decisive before I attracted unwanted attention. I walked over to the bartender.

  “Excuse me,” I told her in the Belsian accent, “I need to see Tom Shortsleeves.”

  She was an older woman and didn’t look up until she’d finished pouring ale into a wooden mug. When she spoke, her voice was harsh. “You and everyone else. Get in line.”

  I pulled his coin from my pocket and held it up. “Will this get me to the front of it?”

  She grimaced as she studied it and then gave a swift nod. “Jenks,” she yelled across the room. “Get over here.”

  A giant of a man rose from a card table. He wore a mask and had haphazardly shoved it up over his forehead. “Whatcha need?”

  “This one’s looking for Tom,” she said.

  A lopsided grin filled his face as he took me in. “Aw, you don’t need him, sweetheart. Let me buy you a drink.”

  The woman gestured impatiently. “Show Jenks what you have.”

  When I took out the coin, his smiled diminished but not his good humor. “Oh, well, aren’t you lucky.”

  “I need a favor,” I explained.

  Jenks’s eyes glowed. “I always love those favors. Lemme cash out, and I’ll track him down.”

  He disappeared in the crowd, leaving me to wait awkwardly at the bar while the woman continued her work. Casks of ale and bottles of wine filled the shelves behind her, and I noted a gun lying on a lower one. At one point, the man delivering drinks hurried up to her.

  “The ones in the corner want a bottle of the Harkford red.”

  Her displeasure deepened. “That’s all the way in the back of the cellar.”

  He placed a handful of silver and gold coins on the counter. “They’re serious about it. I’d go get it, but you know how he is . . .”

  “I know, I know.” She set down a mug with such force that its contents sloshed out. “I’ll take care of it.”

  The server returned to his work, and I watched as she bent down out of view behind the bar. When she straightened up, she held a key ring. She lifted up a section of the bar that allowed her to step out and walked away without comment to a small, nondescript door in the back. She unlocked it with the key and disappeared. I stared at the closed door, fascinated.

  “Well, well, as I live and breathe. My angel has decided to grace me with her presence.”

  I turned at the sound of the theatrical voice and found Tom striding toward me, Jenks at his side. Here, in the light, I had a better sense of Tom’s features. He was older than me, by at least five years or so. His hair was a honeyed blond, pulled back into a tail, though much of it had loosened. The black mask emphasized green eyes. And once his cloak was pushed back, I could see peacock feathers trimming the edges of his elbow-length shirtsleeves.

  “Well, I know you hate unpaid debts.” I pointed at one of his arms. “Which came fi
rst: the sleeves or the name?”

  He grinned back. “Does it matter? The one can’t exist without the other anymore. It’s part of my image.”

  “It’s still pretty cold outside. Is image worth that?”

  “Image is everything,” he assured me. “Now, Jenks claims you came flashing the coin around. Tell me he’s wrong and that you just wanted to see me.”

  Adelaide’s advice from the ship suddenly struck me with perfect clarity. If you’re ever in some situation that needs a crazy solution, just be confident. If you act completely convinced about something, people will go along with it. This situation was unquestionably crazy, and I knew I had to play up my persona to stay afloat. I smiled slyly.

  “Why can’t it be both?” I proffered the coin again and lowered my voice. “But it is mostly business, I’m afraid. I have some friends who are in trouble—friends currently being held in the militia’s jail. They’re going to be moved out tomorrow.”

  “Ah,” said Tom. “Those prisoners. I never took you for a worshipper. I figured an angel would have her own circle of devotees.”

  “I’m not Alanzan. But I don’t want them held there—or transferred to a worse place. I thought you were someone who could help.” I paused, as if reconsidering my decision. “But maybe you can’t.”

  Jenks had been standing a respectful distance away, pretending not to listen, but he let out a great bellow. “She’s calling your bluff,” he told Tom.

  Tom snatched the coin from me. “Nothing to bluff about. Mostly I’m disappointed she didn’t ask for something more challenging. How many men do you think they’ve got on watch there?”

  “Two usually.” Jenks scratched his head. “Probably double if they’re keeping a bigger group of prisoners.”

  “Easy enough then. Let’s go rustle some of the others up.” Tom beckoned me to follow as he and Jenks moved back toward the crowd.

  I glanced between them. “Right now?”