Midnight Jewel

by Richelle Mead

  “What did you do to him?”

  “The usual. Let him know we’re watching. We stopped by his house, relieved him of a few things, put the fear of the wayward angels into him and his servants. No one died, if that’s what you’re wondering. I try to avoid friction with the militia if I can help it.”

  We came to a halt in front of the Dancing Bull, but I didn’t follow the other men in. “Tom—”

  “No more protests. You need more than money. There’s something burning in you. I can see it. You really want to be an avenging angel who rights the wrongs of the world? This is the way. Come back tomorrow night.” His face was alight with excitement. “I’ve got some grain from a job last week I’ve been meaning to dole out. Come see the other side of what we do.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said at last.

  Tom caught my hand and kissed it as I started to move away. “Do more than think, Aviel.”

  “Aviel?”

  “An angel needs a name. Why not the heavenly defender of women and the innocent? Unless you think that’s sacrilegious.”

  I laughed as I began backing away down the street. “After everything else we did tonight? Hardly.”

  He bid farewell with a grand bow. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Lady Aviel.”

  CHAPTER 20

  I DID COME BACK. AND IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG FOR ME TO become the hot topic of Wisteria Hollow’s nightly gossip. Well, not exactly me. Lady Aviel.

  In barely a week of working with Tom’s crew, the identity he’d given me had blazed through the city. Cape Triumph already had a few female pirates, but they didn’t seize the imagination the way I did. Part of that came just by being around Tom. As one of the city’s most flamboyant buccaneers, anyone in his company picked up a little glamour. He certainly had an abundance to share. But I was also younger than the other lady pirates, which somehow resulted in stories of incredible—and, in my opinion, exaggerated—beauty. Rolling that up with my angelic identity made me into something larger than life. Something otherworldly. A true angel of justice.

  And maybe that was because I really was out for justice, not just profit. Not every job was selfless, of course. Tom diligently sought out the city’s corrupt officials, but there was no question that his main focus was profit. I was amazed at how hard he worked for those luxuries and at how many he accrued. I was also amazed that, with the kind of prices he sold them for, he didn’t just build a palace outside the city and retire.

  Tom also kept to his word about having me distribute some of the more ordinary goods that fell into his hands. The people we helped knew I was one of his associates, and my work reflected well on him. But they also realized that the surge in his giving had happened at the same time I’d arrived. And they loved me for it.

  As for me? I earned five gold for that week’s labor. Five gold. Until working with Tom, I’d never even touched one gold coin.

  Those busy nights made for exhausting days with the Glittering Court. A handful of girls had already become engaged, and the Thorns were determined to see the rest of us locked into marriage offers as well. We didn’t get breaks.

  To everyone’s amazement, Adelaide wasn’t yet among the engaged girls. Warren had maintained his aggressive pursuit, and it seemed as though many men had backed off and conceded to what must be an obvious victory.

  “Have you seen Warren recently?” I asked her one night. We stood in front of our bedroom mirror, making last-minute tweaks before heading out to an evening event. “He hasn’t been at any of our recent parties.”

  She smoothed the skirt of her white silk gown. Its silver embroidery sparkled in the candlelight. “I think he’s busy preparing for his trip to Hadisen.”

  “Surely he’s not too busy for you,” I teased. His courtship left me conflicted. Whenever we did see him, he treated her like a queen—and with his impending governorship, he had the ability to make her one, at least by Adorian standards. On the other hand, it was hard for me to shake his role as an active organizer of the heretic hunters. I knew his opinions on heretics were shared by many residents, but I still wished she had a more open-minded suitor in the running.

  I had no idea if Grant had joined the patrols or not. I’d dutifully made note of any useful conversations or observations at the events I went to. I’d picked a couple of drawers in search of evidence. And I’d even gathered a few tips about the city’s underworld in my work with Tom. Everything I learned went to Aiana, but she never said how it was received. And Grant sent no message at all.

  Tonight’s dinner party had particular significance—because it was at the Chambers plantation. Cornelius had continued ardently pitching his father whenever we ran into each other. I knew he thought showing off the grandeur of their home would be the ultimate sell, and as our carriage pulled up to the opulent estate, I had to admit that he had good reason for pride.

  “It’s fantastic, isn’t it?” he said, almost as soon as I walked in the door. “There’s no way you can doubt our family’s standing.”

  “I never doubted it before,” I replied.

  He went on and on about their means until another guest pulled him away. Never once did he mention his father’s virtues. I supposed he figured that, with the age difference, material goods would mean more to me than the man who possessed them.

  I actually liked Rupert quite a bit and purposely sought him out after dinner. He sat in a plush, overly stuffed chair and surveyed the festivities with amusement.

  “Miss Viana. What a pleasure.”

  He started to rise, and I waved him down as I pulled up a smaller chair. “And for me, Mister Chambers. How have you been?”

  “Oh, the same. I lead a quiet life, you know. And now Cornelius insists I ease up on managing our workers. So, lately, my most exciting days are when new books arrive from Osfrid. I’ve kept my eyesight, but the arthritis is getting worse.” He opened one of his hands for emphasis and then curled it up again. “I’d had it in my head to write my life’s story, but I don’t think these old hands could manage it anymore. I’d have to dictate to a servant.”

  “I hope you do. You’re an inspiration to everyone who comes to Adoria for a better life. Look at all you’ve achieved.”

  He glanced around the great room but didn’t appear that impressed. “There’s certainly a bit more to it than there used to be, especially since Lavinia arrived. She has lavish tastes—very lavish—and Cornelius indulges her. But that’s young love.”

  “It’s all very grand,” I said diplomatically, but I caught his meaning. Lavish bordered on gaudy. Some thoughtful architect had built the room with simple but elegant lines, and I could make out remnants of what must have once been a very dignified aesthetic. Now, it was like someone had covered it up and hadn’t known when to stop adding embellishments. Curtains made of brilliant crimson velvet. Vases and sculptures on every surface. Enormous paintings that would have looked lovely, if only one of them had been centered on a bare wall. Instead, they sat side by side in a disorienting display. Our earlier dinner had been served with the finest crystal and china I’d ever seen. And everything in the house seemed unnecessarily gilded.

  “Lavinia’s even very particular about what we drink,” Rupert added, his voice wistful. “Only the elitist Evarian wines for her. I miss my rum. It’s the spiced kind, from Royal Point. Have you ever had it? Marvelous. But she thinks it’s too ‘common’ and had the audacity to store it away on the pantry’s highest shelf. Can you believe that? Out of my reach, like I’m some naughty child. Then she put the fear of the Six into any servant caught fetching it for me.”

  I studied the crowded room, filled with posh guests who were completely absorbed in their own affairs. I grinned, and suddenly, the party became a lot more interesting. “Would you like me to get you some?”

  Rupert’s complete lack of reaction made me think he hadn’t heard the question, but just before I c
ould repeat myself, a low chuckle started in his throat and then grew louder. He slapped his knee. “Oh, I wish you could. Don’t tease an old man.”

  I sprang up. “I’m not. Believe me, a high shelf isn’t much of a challenge, compared to half the things I do.”

  He laughed again. “That I believe, but flattered as I am, I don’t want you risking it. Lavinia’ll have your head.”

  I thought about how eager she was for me to marry her father-in-law. “Something tells me she’ll forgive me. I’ll be right back.”

  I hurried away amidst his protests and deftly slipped through a door I’d seen servants move in and out of all night. A long corridor extended before me, and I simply followed my nose from there. I passed one servant along the way, and as usual, acting like I knew where I was going got me ignored.

  Only one person stood in the vast kitchen, a boy washing dishes with his back to the door. With dinner over, most servants were now out delivering cordials to the guests. I crept to the other end of the kitchen, far from the dishwasher. A cavernous pantry loomed around a corner, filled with enough food to feed a party twice this size. I didn’t recognize half the items. High on the top shelf, golden bottles of rum gleamed. As I contemplated my strategy, an uneasy voice said, “I beg your pardon, miss. I . . .”

  I turned to see a nervous kitchen maid. “Thank goodness,” I exclaimed. “I hope you can help me. I’m trying to do a favor for Mister Chambers—the elder one. It’s a, uh, bit of a secret. He was hoping I could find something for him. Something from . . . Royal Point.”

  I was playing a hunch. After thinking about how Rupert had said Lavinia had threatened the servants, it occurred to me they might not be so fond of their new mistress and her changes. But someone as mild as Rupert? Loyalty to him would likely still run strong, and I might not even have to steal.

  Sure enough, the maid’s expression softened. “I do know where it’s at. And the Six knows he deserves it after such a good long life. But I could lose my job if Mistress Chambers catches me.”

  “Show me. I’ll do it. I’ll take responsibility.”

  “All right then,” she said after a moment’s deliberation. “There’s a ladder right over there.”

  She brought it to me, and I made the climb in high heels without any difficulty. When I stepped back down with a bottle in hand, the maid handed me an elegant china cup. Catching on, I poured a generous amount of the rum into it.

  “Hopefully the mistress will think it’s tea if she sees him with it,” my conspirator said with a wink.

  I replaced the bottle and thanked her. Careful not to spill the cup’s contents, I returned to the corridor and slowly made my way back toward the party. Smiling, I wondered if this counted as an act of great justice.

  Partway through the hall, I passed a darkened doorway, and a hand suddenly reached out and grabbed my arm. I stared in shock as Grant gestured for me to come inside. I followed him, too stunned to protest.

  He shut the door, and we retreated to the far side of the room, to a corner that held what I could barely discern as a piano. I set the cup on top of it. Only a little of the rum had sloshed out. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Getting ready to meet Barton Scarborough and some of the others after the party. I’m pretty sure he’s using the heretic patrols as a cover to deliver messages and contraband. He sends them out pretty far sometimes.”

  “Well, then what are you doing in here? The party’s not over, and I doubt he told you to come inside.” Very faint light edged the curtained windows, a combination of moonlight and outside lanterns. That and a little brightness peeking under the main door gave the room its only illumination. As my eyes adjusted, I saw Grant lean against the piano.

  “I was looking for you. I needed to tell you something.”

  My heart nearly stopped. Despite all the mental arguments I had with myself about why I was better off without him, despite all the excitement of the pirates . . . I was suddenly filled with hope and anticipation. An explanation at last.

  “Silas pulled strings over at the customs office,” Grant began, completely knocking my hopes down. But before I could feel too frustrated, he continued, “And we found your Lonzo Borges. Sort of.”

  I gaped. “What? How?”

  “His bond was resold to another broker when he arrived, and they all headed south to look for work. That was all we knew, but at least there was a paper trail. You got lucky. That doesn’t usually happen. When I found out one of our agents was going to be in that area last week, I had him make a few inquiries. He just got back today.”

  “And?”

  “An engineering firm bought Borges’s bond, and there was confirmation he’s currently draining swamps outside Williamston. Our man didn’t get a chance to go to him in person, but he’s headed back tomorrow for another visit. If you get a letter to me by noon, I could have him deliver it.”

  The world swam around me. Lonzo. Was it possible? Had I gotten this lucky so quickly? Williamston was a coastal city at the southernmost part of Osfrid’s Adorian holdings. There were no official colony lines drawn there yet, but the territory was firmly in Osfrid’s grip. Though rich in resources, most of that region was swampy and rugged. Few wanted to fight for it.

  Lonzo is alive.

  I wrapped my arms around myself. “I . . . I didn’t even know you were looking for him.”

  “I said I would.”

  “Thank you. Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”

  “I’m glad. I was hoping I could do something, seeing as you’ve been hating me for the last week.” I tried to picture the expression on his face as he said that. More sardonic than contrite, I suspected.

  “I haven’t been hating—” I stopped. “Well. Not all the time.”

  “I deserved it.” And just like that, he actually did sound apologetic. “Hopefully we can just let this go and move on to what’s important.”

  The subtext that I was not important promptly killed any credit he might have gained for that flash of earnestness. “Let it go? Like you let me go?”

  He groaned. “Mirabel . . .”

  “I realize I did something wrong, and I’m sorry about that, but you could at least—”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me, not you.”

  “Don’t dodge this by brushing me off. Obviously, I played some part! I know you’re touchy about your past, but if I’d had any idea how much asking about it would kill your interest—”

  “Damn it,” he interrupted again. “Why is everything such a battle? It wasn’t that you asked! It was the way you looked when you—” I recognized one of those rare moments when he got so worked up, he slipped and revealed more than he intended. He caught himself now. “Look, just let it—”

  The door slowly creaked open, spilling light into the front part of the room. The darkness still obscured us, but Grant took my hand and we crawled under the piano. We crammed ourselves into the corner behind it—no easy feat in my full dress—and went perfectly still. He didn’t let go of me.

  Two men entered the room, shutting the door behind them. One lit a small candle, and Grant and I shrank back even farther.

  “I got a message from White,” the man who’d come in first said. “He wants to know where the shipment is. I’d like to know too. The accounts don’t match.”

  “Everything’s fine,” said the other. “Sandler got delayed, but he’ll bring it to my place just before dawn. The militia stumbled onto their job, so they wanted to lay low a while. I’ll take them to Burleigh the day after tomorrow.”

  “Well, make a count before you go. I don’t want to find out they’re skimming too.”

  “Thieves stealing from thieves, eh?” asked the first man. He gave a harsh laugh. “I’ll take care of it. You just make sure the money’s ready.”

  “I will. Hey, do you smell rum?
”

  “I wish. I hate that pretentious port they’re serving.”

  One of them snuffed the candle, and they returned to the party. Grant and I stayed put for a few more minutes until we were certain they wouldn’t come back. We let go of each other’s hands, and I had to unkink my fingers after how tightly we’d been gripping each other.

  “That was Abraham Miller,” I murmured. Even alone now, I still felt the need for secrecy. “I don’t know the other. I’ve never heard anyone talk like him.”

  “That’s a North Joyce accent. I’ll have to find out who was on the guest list. That was definitely conspiracy talk. If I can identify him, maybe we’ll figure out who Sandler is. That’s a new player. Now I’ve got to hurry to get this to Silas and still be back to meet the patrol.”

  We both started to get up and then realized what a tangle we were in, half sitting on each other and surrounded in the layers of my skirts.

  “You and your clothes,” he muttered, shifting so that I could pull out a part of my overdress he’d been sitting on. “How can a dress that covers so little have so much to it?”

  “It might be low cut, but it still leaves plenty to the imagination.” Embarrassment flooded me as I recalled that he didn’t have to imagine much. I managed to free myself and get to my feet. As I did, my hand lightly grazed his face.

  “You’re lazy on your shaving again.”

  He rose as well, following as I made my way out from behind the piano. We paused in front of it, facing each other in the shadows. “It didn’t suit me,” he said. “And besides, I hear it’s the only endearing thing about me.”

  “It was until you brought me the news about Lonzo. Thank you again.”

  “Don’t forget the letter.” I just barely made out his hand lifting toward me—and then he swiftly returned it to his side. “I need to go. But whatever you’re thinking—it’s wrong.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “About . . . you know what I’m talking about.”