The Emerald Sea

by Richelle Mead

  “They’re guests of ours, and it’s a good deed you’ve done tonight, Jacob. You are welcome to stay as long as the storm lasts.” Samuel seemed to deliver both compliment and invitation with some reluctance. His eyes fell on me. “And as for you, I hope you appreciate how once again the angels have spared you from nature’s wrath.”

  “I do.” I glanced at one of the dark windows as it rattled from the wind. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done if I’d been out there much longer.”

  Gideon’s frown had deepened. “When this lifts, the council should reconsider the girls’ work arrangements—at least for ones like Tamsin and Damaris, traipsing around all over the town. That’s safe enough in the summer, but it’s too easy to get caught by a storm this time of year. This one was especially sudden, even for those of us who know what to look for.”

  “What work arrangement is this, exactly?” Jago’s voice was perfectly guileless, with no sign that he already knew something of our history. “And I hope someone will be so kind as to give me the names of your lovely visitors. I confess, I’m so dazzled by them that I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually still outside and just hallucinating.”

  Jago’s words drew answering smiles from my friends. He was a little disheveled from the storm, but even I had to acknowledge a kind of charm in his cheeky air.

  Samuel pointed to each of us in turn. “Winnifred, Vanessa, Damaris, and, as you know, Tamsin. Their ship ran aground on the eastern coast, and now they’re staying with us until they can continue to Cape Triumph in the spring.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jago asked. “What’s waiting for you there?”

  “Husbands, hopefully,” Winnifred explained, a note of intense longing in her voice. “We’ve worked and studied to become ladies of high culture so that we can meet distinguished suitors—if any are still available by the time we get there! Tamsin’ll probably snatch up whoever’s left. She never backs down.”

  For some reason, the praise made me self-conscious. “Come on, I’m alive and well. You don’t have to say nice things about me.”

  A mischievous smile crept over her face. “Who said I was trying to be nice? I’m just commenting on your relentless nature . . . which, by the way, I’m glad to have around. It’s no wonder we’re able to keep getting through these storms and other disasters alive.”

  I smiled back, thinking what a long ways we’d come from that first shipboard meeting. The touching moment was shattered when Dinah announced: “What I wonder about is why you all keep getting into one disaster after another. Perhaps it’s some kind of divine punishment.”

  Jago knocked back the rest of his tea and set the cup on its saucer with a clatter. “Seems more like divine favor if they keep coming through it just fine. You said yourself the angels are looking out for them, Mister Cole. Maybe your guests are carrying some divine message for the rest of us and we don’t even realize it.”

  Silence fell. Samuel cleared his throat and said, “While it’s wise for you to consider the way the angels influence everything in the world, interpretation is best left to those more versed in holy study.”

  “We’d be glad to have you at services someday if you’d like to learn more,” added Gideon.

  Jago shook his head with a grin. “Nah. Honestly, I feel more spiritual when I’m working outside in the fresh air. I mean, look around at the sun and the trees—even this storm. Uros made that. The church? You made that.”

  “Are you suggesting worshipping outside, like the Alanzans do?” demanded Dinah, horror twisting her features.

  “Oh, goodness, I’m no heretic, Miss Cole. I just live and worship by my own beliefs.”

  “That’s nearly the definition of heresy!” Samuel threw back his shoulders and looked on the verge of delivering a sermon.

  Noticing, Gideon quickly said, “Now, uh, it’s been quite a night. Perhaps we should focus on celebrating Uros, not debating Uros.”

  Samuel, still scrutinizing Jago, didn’t even blink. “Especially since there’s nothing to debate.”

  “Of course not. I’m just saying maybe we’d all feel better after some dinner.” Gideon might claim he choked up at the podium, but he could deflect beautifully. “Can you eat, Tamsin? We held off when the storm started.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Jago fixed his grin on me. “And how lucky you didn’t even miss it.”

  As we adjourned to the kitchen, Damaris took my arm and held me back. “Tamsin, I feel awful. I wish you wouldn’t have delivered those groceries for me. You wouldn’t have been running late if—”

  “Hush,” I whispered, giving her a quick hug. “It’s my own fault that I was running late. You needed that rest. Everything worked out, and it was almost worth freezing to death to have Dinah be nice to me. Or, well, just not be awful.”

  It was hard to poke too much fun at Dinah when she served up another of her excellent dinners. Once I thawed out, I developed a raging appetite and devoured the bean soup and greens without pausing. The others recounted their experiences with the storm, and Vanessa told how she’d walked home with a student who lived far outside of town.

  “The snow was just starting, and I’m so glad I decided to talk to his mother about getting a more advanced lesson book. Otherwise, I’d have been worried sick about him getting home! He’s so clever. It’s a shame they can’t afford anything new, but I’m going to create a makeshift reader so he won’t be bored.”

  Jago arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re the clever one. You must be quite a reader yourself.”

  Her eyes glowed. “Oh, yes. I love it. And I miss it. I used to finish a book every few days.”

  “No kidding? I didn’t realize there was such a scholar behind that pretty smile. And—wait? What? Are those dimples too? Wow. You know, you should keep your mind sharp. If you need new material, I’ve got a whole load of books I picked up in Sutton. Histories, novels.”

  “She needs no such things,” Dinah interjected. “The scriptures will keep her mind sharp.”

  “Of course, of course.” Jago fell into eating again but couldn’t stay silent for very long. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I ate something so delicious. Miss Cole, you didn’t do this all by yourself, did you? I can taste a dozen different spices. You must have had these girls chopping all day.”

  Dinah looked startled at the praise and then, astonishingly, flushed with pleasure. “Actually . . . I did it all, Mister Robinson. Cooking is something I take very seriously. And there are only a few spices in there, basic ones at that. You can do a lot if you know how to use them correctly.”

  Jago let out a low whistle. “My goodness. I’ll have to come by with my spice and oil inventory one day. If you’ve got the talent to create a meal like this out of simple things, I can’t even imagine what you’d do with ingredients from around the world.”

  Perhaps Jago’s flattery put her in a good mood, because later in the meal, Dinah reduced the punishment Winnifred had received for teaching the blacksmith’s daughter to plait her hair. “You’re excused from writing an analysis of that passage. Just be sure you remember its message.”

  “Oh, I will,” Winnifred assured her. “I already read it, actually. I adore that one section: ‘Remember your heart. Remember that others love you for it—not for your power or accolades. The conventions of man may lie, but the heart will tell the truth.’”

  Jago set his fork down with a clatter, and I wondered how many more shocked reactions he could contrive in one meal. “What a musical voice you have. Do you sing?”

  “Not often. I prefer playing.” Her musical voice became melancholy. “I miss the violin I used to practice on back at Dunford. Hopefully I’ll have my own when I’m married.”

  “Well, I have a lute for sale. Hardly the same thing, but some of the principles are similar. With your astonishing skill, you could practice before going south and then daz
zle your suitors. Not that you won’t already. In fact, I’m sure you’ll have so many, you won’t even be able to keep track of them.”

  Samuel sighed loudly. “Mister Robinson, did you hear nothing in that quotation?”

  “I heard a voice that made me think one of the six angels had come to recite for us,” Jago replied gravely. Damaris put a hand over her mouth to hide a laugh.

  “The passage was about guarding against vanity, and yet here you are, feeding into it by constantly doling out flattery to these girls while also encouraging materialism with your incessant attempts to hock your wares!”

  “Can’t help the selling. It’s in my blood. And I can’t really hold back the compliments either—not when there are so many worthy recipients.” Jago made a sweeping gesture around the table. “Besides, I’ve got to win over people with whatever skills I’ve got. I’m not as fortunate as Mister Stewart there, able to enthrall with just a glance.”

  Gideon started at the unexpected acknowledgment. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I’m not criticizing,” Jago said amiably. “Just stating the facts. One of us has to work a lot harder to win the attention of young ladies. Give you a sword and some wings, and you’d be Kyriel made flesh. Me? I get called ‘cute,’ but never ‘dashing.’”

  Samuel froze mid-bite, unable to believe what was transpiring at his table. Meanwhile, Gideon was blushing so strongly, even his ears were pink. Dinah sprang to his defense: “It’s Gideon’s fine character that earns him attention.”

  “I can believe that. He’s one of the finest people I’ve ever met.” Jago sounded sincere. “But you probably figured that out early on, Miss Cole.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, thinking she’d scored a victory. “I could tell how fine he was the moment I saw him.”

  “The moment you saw him, eh? Mmm-hmm, I figured as much,” said Jago.

  I looked down at my plate to hide a smile. Damaris, catching the joke also, kept her face serene, though laughter filled her eyes. “You sell yourself short, Mister Robinson,” she said. “I think if you grew your hair out a bit, you’d be quite dashing.”

  Jago put a hand to his heart. “You think so? I never thought about that. Sounds like you’ve got quite the eye for style. I have a mirror that—”

  “This meal is over.” Samuel shoved his chair back with a screech and stood up. “Jacob, we’ll make you a bed in the front room. The rest of you girls, help Dinah with the dishes.”

  “Can’t Tamsin be excused from it?” asked Vanessa. “After everything she’s been through tonight? Look how chapped those hands are.”

  “Most of that’s actually from the laundry,” I said, touched by her concern. “But if they recovered from over ten years of it in Osfro, I’m sure they’ll bounce back from . . . um, however long we’re here.”

  “There’s no shame in showing the marks of honest labor.” Dinah studied me, and either because she was still upbeat from Jago’s compliments or simply thought the others might judge, she said, “You may rest by the fire, Tamsin.”

  Jago followed me to the hearth and looked out one of the windows while I settled in a chair. “Quite a storm.”

  “Are you talking about the one you just made over dinner?” I asked.

  He laughed and settled in the chair opposite me, turning it around so he could rest his chin on its back. “I like to keep things interesting, that’s all.”

  “Seems like you could go a little easier on your poor host in the process.”

  “Seems like you could go a little easier on your poor savior.”

  I think he used “savior” to bait me, but it wasn’t far from the truth. “Thank you for that. I had no idea where I was.”

  “On the edge of wandering into the southern woods.” His levity disappeared. “When I found you, you’d gone off on a small track that branches from the creek road. I just barely caught sight of you as I was coming. A bit of luck there. Or divine favor.”

  I shuddered. “And here I was worried I’d just passed the house! Six. Why did you come looking for me at all?”

  “When I realized there was a storm coming, I didn’t think you’d make it back here before the worst hit. So . . . I had to go.” The teasing twinkle in his eyes returned. “I’ve got more heart than you think.”

  “I won’t apologize for what I said earlier, even if you did save my life.”

  “Understood.”

  We lapsed into silence, and I stared into the crackling fire, watching the gold and orange flames with their hearts of blue. When I glanced up, I found Jago studying me.

  “What?”

  “I should have given you the ribbons,” he responded unexpectedly. “Most of your hair was covered up earlier. If I’d seen it all like this, I would’ve handed them over for free.”

  “You’re just saying that because you want to save face now that you know I gave Orla the arnica for free.”

  He leaned his cheek against his hand, his grin widening as he regarded me sideways. “I’m thinking you might have a little heart too. Your friends seem to think so.”

  “If you weren’t so busy trying to make a sale, you’d have heard them call me relentless.”

  “I heard them fawning all over you. And I heard Damaris sounding pretty grateful on the way to dinner.”

  I groaned. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  “Nope. Just in the right place at the right time to make me wonder if maybe there was more to you storming into my house than a selfish need for champagne and silk. Maybe you were there for your friends as much as yourself. And then that makes me wonder if I should be on my guard. I mean, I hear you don’t back down. Are you going to come after me again?”

  “You bloody wish I was coming after you, Mister Robinson.” I held up my hand to cover a yawn. I was getting too tired to indulge his banter. “Don’t trouble yourself anymore. I’ll find a way, just like I always do.”

  He lifted his head and examined my hand. “What did you mean about ten years of laundry?”

  “I worked for my ma. I told you she’s a laundress.”

  “No . . . you just said she ran a business.”

  “She does. Unless you think that doesn’t count as a business?”

  The tone of my voice wasn’t lost on him. “Of course it counts. I guess I imagined other sorts of businesses. A fine dress shop. An event planner. I wasn’t thinking of anything so . . .”

  “. . . gritty?”

  His customary smile flickered back to life. “‘Gritty’? Not the word I’d use. But when you told me you were off to waltz and dine with Cape Triumph’s finest, I figured you must have already had connections to get a ride like that.”

  “A ride?” I straightened up, suddenly awake. “I’m not here because of a ride! I’m here because I worked hard—because I scraped and clawed in Osfro and then poured all that was left of me into being the best at Blue Spring. You have no idea how much I’ve sacrificed for the pleasure of sitting across from you right now, Jago Robinson, and I’ll be damned if you, the bloody Heirs, or even this weather is going to keep me from what I want.”

  It was a harsher response than he deserved; I knew he hadn’t actually meant to offend. But it all just burst out of me before I could stop it. I was bone weary, and the weight of this last twenty-four hours—Damaris, Jago, and the storm—was finally getting to me.

  Jago watched me, his face serious but otherwise unreadable, and I wondered if I’d shocked him to silence. That seemed pretty unlikely. And sure enough, a few moments later, he began, “Look, if you— Oh, hello.” His green-and-hazel eyes focused on something behind me, and his expression became lighthearted once more. “Mister Cole. Miss Vanessa. Pull up a chair and join us.”

  Panicked, I jerked around, expecting to see Samuel condemning me to Ozhiel’s hell for my language, but his stoic expression told me he hadn’t overheard. Vanessa stood b
ehind him, quilts in her arms. “We’ll clear some of this furniture and make you a bed,” Samuel said.

  Jago stood up and stretched. “Thank you, sir, but if it’s all the same, I’ll sleep out in the barn tonight.”

  “It’s freezing out there,” I protested. Was this another joke of his?

  Jago responded with a wink. “If the horses can survive it, so can I. I’ll feel better keeping an eye on them, and Mister Cole will probably feel better having me out of the house.”

  Samuel stiffened. “I wouldn’t have made the offer if I didn’t mean it. Our duty under Uros compels us to show compassion to anyone who needs it.”

  Jago tilted his head and stroked his chin in a sign of exaggerated contemplation. “Is it compassion if it’s duty? Shouldn’t compassion, by its nature, be freely given? And if memory serves, isn’t who needs compassion just a matter of opinion anyway?”

  Gideon slipped in to hear that last bit and see Samuel’s answering glower. Moving deftly between the other two men, Gideon asked pleasantly, “Jacob, will this be enough to keep you warm? I’m sure we can find extras.”

  Jago eyed Samuel a beat more before turning to Vanessa and her blankets. “That’s more than enough, thank you.”

  “You’re hardier than me,” she said. “We slept outside a few nights on the way here, and I felt like an ice block each morning, even with that massive bear fur Tamsin got along the way.”

  “How so?” Jago layered on his coats. “Did she relentlessly hunt one down?”

  “She traded with the Balanquans for extra things to keep the rest of us warm. She handed over her favorite gown, this lovely green silk that—”

  “Enough,” I scolded. “It’s just a dress. And stop before you give him ideas. He’ll try to sell me something.”

  “Who said I was thinking that?” He was all bundled up now, about to wrap the scarf over his face. “But if you do need more dresses, come to me first. Good night, ladies, reverends.” He took the blankets and disappeared through the doorway to the foyer. Several seconds later, the wind burst in as he opened the door and was then shut out once again.