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First published in the United States of America by Razorbill, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2018
Copyright © 2018 Richelle Mead LLC
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Ebook ISBN 9780698406018
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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For Aunt Sheri and Uncle Curt
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
BEING BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE WAS EXHAUSTING WORK.
That had been true for most of my life. I couldn’t remember a time when I wasn’t helping support my family, fighting for every copper we earned. If you slacked off in Osfro’s bustling market district, even for an instant, then you were just opening the door for someone else to move in and snatch your triumph for themselves.
That hadn’t changed when I moved into a household of girls all vying to marry wealthy men in a far-off land. Others here at Blue Spring Manor might think they could ease up, and that only worked to my advantage. Let them think they could coast now. Let them all hate me. I wouldn’t lose my edge. I’d stay focused on my prize, never getting distracted by people or frivolity.
“Happy birthday, Tamsin!”
I stumbled to a halt in the doorway to my room, clamping a hand to my mouth to cover my shock at the sight that met me. Intricately cut garlands of paper hung along the walls. A little box wrapped smartly in silver tissue rested on my bed. A vase of rainbow-hued gladioli stood atop my dresser. And a plate of something lumpy and pink sat nearby.
As it turned out, not everyone hated me.
“What is this?” I swiftly shut the door. “Wait. How did you even know?”
My two roommates stood side by side, grinning broadly. “We have our ways,” said Mira.
“Though we shouldn’t have had to use them,” chastised Adelaide. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I didn’t want to make a fuss. It’s not a big deal.” I walked over to one of the walls and touched the garland. “This is lovely.”
“I made it,” said Mira. At ease, a lilting accent crept into her voice, the result of having lived most of her life in Sirminica. Looking at her, so neat and proper in a pink poplin dress, one would never guess she’d had to fight her way out of a war-torn country. “Miss Shaw gave me the supplies the last time she visited.”
“And I made the cake,” piped up Adelaide. “It’s strawberry.”
I frowned. “What cake?” She pointed, and I turned to the plate with the oozing pink blob on it. “Did you now?” I asked. “All by yourself? Like, with a recipe and everything?”
“You’re lucky it’s your birthday, or I wouldn’t tolerate that kind of sass,” she returned.
I didn’t believe that for an instant, seeing as she tolerated my “sass” on a pretty regular basis. Adelaide had one of the wittiest, most cheerful dispositions I knew, which worked as a good balance to my unending restlessness and Mira’s quiet reflection. Everyone at Blue Spring was trying to rise from our roots and learn the ways of the upper classes, so you’d think Adelaide would be the one with an edge after working as a genteel lady’s maid. And she did have occasional bits of brilliance about obscure aristocratic behaviors. But that was often overshadowed by her complete lack of practical life skills. Like sewing. And cleaning. And . . . cooking.
“Well, thank you . . . though you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. Um, especially the cake. It’s kind, but you two shouldn’t have wasted that time on me when you could have been studying.”
Adelaide sat on the edge of her bed, swinging her legs. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t have spent that time studying.”
“Mira might have,” I shot back.
Mira took a spot beside Adelaide and tossed her long black hair over one shoulder. “I don’t think I would have either.”
“Oh, come on, you two! If you really wanted to get me something for my birthday, it would be to get more serious about your studies. Time’s running out.”
“I am serious about them,” Mira said indignantly. “Just not like you are. No one is.”
“And we have loads of time,” said Adelaide. “I’m not going to worry yet.”
There was no point in chastising her. Adelaide would be Adelaide. I’d learned that six months ago when I’d joined the Glittering Court. Like me, she and the other girls in our house had committed to a year of learning etiquette, politics, music, and what felt like a hundred more subjects. These grueling days would pay off when we sailed to Adoria in the spring to find upper-class husbands who would elevate our standing in the new colonies. Some days I wished my two roommates would remember that. Of course, I still had to be the best, but I would like to see them be, say, second and third best.
Mira did take her studies more seriously than Adelaide and, ever observant, had noted my late return. “Was there some sort of trouble downstairs? It looked like Clara and some others were trying to talk to you after class.”
“As if that lot could give me any real trouble,” I scoffed. “They were just sulking because I interviewed Florence about all the eligible bachelors in Cape Triumph.”
Adelaide’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. Florence was an alumna of the Glittering Court, and had returned from Adoria last week to tell us about her experiences. “You did what with Florence?”
“Remember how she wanted to rest after lunch? She’s apparently gotten used to having a maid help her all the time—which is silly, since she started where
we did—so I volunteered to help get her settled in the guest room. And then I used the chance to get as much information out of her as I could about all the men she knew over there.”
Silence and stares met me. Then, Mira said: “Yes. Of course you did.”
“I’ve been using what she told me to study up on some of their interests. For example, there’s a prominent banker who’s looking for a wife, and he’s very into lawn tennis. Do you know what that is? I didn’t, though I do now, of course. I’ve been reading about it on my breaks.”
“Actually,” said Adelaide, “I do know what it is. But how come you never told us about this?”
I shrugged. “Do you want to know? Do you want to start researching these men?”
“No,” they both said.
“See, that’s why I didn’t say anything, though I’d gladly share . . . some . . . of it with you. But as for everyone else? Not a chance. And that’s what I told Clara and her cronies just now.”
“Tamsin, there is no one else like you,” said Adelaide, her voice full of both admiration and disbelief.
Mira nodded, her earlier smile back. “And we wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Tease all you want,” I said, “but I’m telling you, something’s going on around here. Each time Jasper visits—I don’t know. I can just feel it. We have to be ready.”
Adelaide was getting bored with the shop talk. “Can we be ready after you open your present and have cake? Please?”
I picked up the silver box. “Ah, well, I’m not so hungry just yet, but let’s take a look at this.” When I opened the gift, I found a polished wooden pen with a steel tip. It was nothing fancy, but it was clearly new and well made. “Where in the world did you get this? Neither of you have money to spare.”
“Cedric picked it up in the city for us. After an absurdly rich husband, we knew this was the present you’d want most,” Adelaide explained. “That other pen you were using was barely staying together.”
“You’re right. Thank you.” An unexpected wave of emotion swept me. I didn’t need friends to succeed in the Glittering Court, but it was certainly nice to have them. “And thank Cedric too.”
“Hopefully you’ll stop slacking on those letters to your family,” said Mira, remarkably straight-faced. “I think I saw you write only three of them yesterday.”
“Then you missed one. I did four.” I looked down at the pen, feeling an ache in my heart at the thought of my family. Everything I did here was for them, but ironically, it came at the cost of being away from them. “The six blessed angels know how I miss them. First birthday I’ve ever been away.”
“You’re lucky,” said Adelaide, growing uncharacteristically solemn. “To have a family like that—to be so close to them.”
The wistful note in her voice reminded me that she and Mira had lost their families. Maybe mine was far away in Osfro, but at least I had them. At least I’d see them again.
“I am lucky,” I agreed. I set the pen down and walked over to my friends, pulling them into a shared hug. “Because I have a family like this too.”
We held each other for a few moments and then Adelaide said, “So. Is it time for cake?”
* * *
I’d meant it when I told them I felt like something was going to happen. It took almost two months before I was proven right. Before then, life marched along to its normal rhythm at Blue Spring Manor. Instructors came by each week to teach their subjects, rotating between us and three other Glittering Court manors. I studied. I relished Adelaide and Mira. I tolerated the others. And always, always, I wrote my letters home.
One winter afternoon, Jasper Thorn—one of the two brothers who’d founded the Glittering Court—summoned us to the ballroom. That change of routine immediately put me on alert. When we arrived and saw blankets spread out on the floor and caterers setting up around the room, I panicked even more.
“I knew it,” I kept telling Mira and Adelaide. “Maybe this is a surprise test. One to get us thinking about the big exams at the end.” Mistress Masterson, who ran the house, wouldn’t tell us anything, and I watched anxiously for Jasper’s arrival in the hopes of getting answers.
But the next person who walked through was a man I didn’t know. I didn’t recognize the couple who came in after him either. Or the woman and four little boys who soon followed.
I knew who the next people were, though. With a cry of surprise, I raced across the ballroom. “Merry! Ma! Pa!”
In an instant, I was engulfed by people whose hair was the same autumn red as mine. My thirteen-year-old brother, Jonathan, was trying to keep a stoic face but failing. His twin, Olivia, had no such reserve and cried openly as she hugged me. Little Merry, at three years old, had a much simpler reaction to a happy occasion. She squealed with delight and launched herself out of my father’s arms, nearly knocking me over in the process.
“Careful there, love,” I said with a laugh. “These shoes I’m in are meant for dancing, not acrobatics.”
She squirmed and peered down at the shoes. “Ooh, look at the buckles! Look at your dress! Look at all of this!” Her green eyes stared around the room, growing wider with each new wonder she saw. “Everything is so beautiful. Is this where we’re going to live? Can we see the rest of it? Can I see the dress from your letter? The one with green flowers?”
“Hush, child,” said Ma, her eyes misty. “You aren’t letting her get a word in.”
I hugged Merry tighter and showered kisses on her. “That’s fine with me. I hear myself plenty. I can’t believe you’re here! What’s going on?”
Pa scratched at the red beard on his chin. “Not sure. We got the invitation a week ago, and they sent a carriage for us today.”
“Well, I don’t care what it’s for, so long as you’re here.” I tucked Merry’s curls behind her ears so I could better look at her beloved face. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed all of you so much.”
The room buzzed with happy reunions. Laughter and tears surrounded us as other girls reunited with longed-for families. I spun around, suddenly concerned about Mira and Adelaide, but then I saw them with their own guests. Mira was beaming at an older couple who looked to be Sirminican too, and Adelaide was giving a stiff hug to a boisterous woman in a tacky red dress. I urged my family over and made introductions. Mira explained that the husband and wife, named Pablo and Fernanda, were fellow refugees. The woman with Adelaide was Sally, a distant aunt.
Jasper finally arrived and called us to attention. Though old enough to be my father, he was handsome and always smartly dressed. He was also something of a showman and knew how to sell.
“First, let me welcome you here today to Blue Spring Manor.” He held up his hands in a grand gesture. “You are our guests, and we are all at your service. Second, I want to thank you for the sacrifice I know you must have made in the last eight months by lending us your daughters. But it has been our privilege and our honor to have them, to help them develop the potential you surely knew they had all along. Today you’ll get a glimpse into the world they’ve entered—a world that will be dwarfed by the riches and splendor they’ll get when they marry in Adoria.”
When we’d joined the Glittering Court, we’d done it with the understanding that we couldn’t visit our families back in Osfro, and they couldn’t visit us here. I’d had to accept the dreary prospect that I could very well be facing two years without seeing them. I’d long hoped for a reunion of this type but never dreamed it would happen. So, that vigilant, always planning part of me warned that something like this wasn’t being done as a random act of generosity. I shelved those concerns—for now. Just this once, it felt good to relax my guard and be with these people I loved. Jasper urged us all to get food, and we brought it to the blankets, eating picnic-style.
Merry, never leaving my lap, found the setup delightful and chattered on about it and any other thoughts that c
ame to her mind. I listened contentedly, nearly bursting with joy. The others got a chance to share their stories too, the twins telling me about school, and Pa describing a building project he’d just been hired onto.
Ma, at one point, exclaimed, “Look at your hands! You’ll never be able to do a load of clothes again.”
I felt a flush of pleasure. I’d worked with her for years washing laundry for households throughout the city. It had taken a lot of care at Blue Spring to repair the damage of soap and lye, and while my hands weren’t perfect yet, they’d improved by leaps and bounds.
“Not much longer and you’ll be relaxing your hands too,” I told Ma after we ate. “I’ll make sure of it. I wish I could do something about it now. I hate the thought of you shouldering most of the workload.”
She tsked. “Don’t give it a second thought. You have better things to focus on today.”
Merry, head leaning against my chest, said, “We all love and miss you so much. But I love and miss you the most.” The poignancy of her words was underscored with a challenge as she glanced at the rest of our family, daring them to say otherwise.
I held her tighter. “I believe it, sweet one. I believe it.”
And yet, as much as I reveled in every moment of being with her and the others, I was always conscious that it would have to end. At some point, they would be taken away from me again. I smiled, laughed, and gazed at their beloved faces while my dread grew and grew. Nausea stirred in the pit of my stomach; my hands sweated as I held on to Merry. When Jasper at last called an end to the gathering, I felt as though I was going to throw up.
Merry noted the signs of departure, like people gathering their things and exchanging hugs. She turned to me in a panic. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you.”
“I wish you could, love.” My voice cracked. “You have no idea how much I wish you could.”
“Then can you come back with us?”
“No. I have to stay here a little longer and finish my studies. But I’ll keep writing every day. Twice a day, if I can. And before long, I’ll see you all again in Adoria, and we’ll live in a fine house—finer than this—with all the things you could ever want.”
The Emerald Sea Page 1
