Chapter 29

Aiana put together a makeshift pallet in the corner of her sitting room. When I woke the next morning, she was gone, and I set about preparing for the day. The dresses Mira had brought were nowhere near the extravagant affairs of the Glittering Court, but they were still something an upper-class Denham woman would wear. The one I chose was made of ivory cambric scattered with sprigs of pink and purple flowers. The dress felt foreign to me after a month in rough gear, the fabric dangerously delicate. I didn’t mind being back in something nice, but it was a reminder of how much my life had changed.

I just had finished arranging my hair when Aiana returned. “I thought you were going with Mira,” I said.

“I’m going with you. I saw her off—she’s on her way.”

Again, I felt that nervous pang about losing another friend. “Is she alone?”

“No.”

Aiana offered no other information, and I took it that I wasn’t meant to ask more about it.

A crowd had gathered outside the courthouse when we arrived. Even in a lively city like Cape Triumph, this was serious drama. The governor’s son, an illicit romance, heresy . . . citizens were dying to get a front-row seat. Aiana steered me by them and up to the entrance, where a court official waved us through.

The courtroom was already full, with seating set aside for principal players. One of those seats was for me, and I sat down, noticing that Jasper wasn’t too far away. He gave me a cold nod and then pointedly looked in the opposite direction. Over near the front, Governor Doyle sat with Viola by his side and other advisors nearby. Two rows of seats were still empty, and those I watched avidly. At last, a bailiff opened a side door and led in the held men. Warren was first, looking remarkably smug given the circumstances. Cedric came last, and my heart leapt at the sight of him.

He needed a shave, and his arm was still in the sling, of course. But otherwise, he moved well and had lost more of his bruises. I wondered if that was a good or bad thing. It might have helped our case if we’d had proof of how badly he’d been beaten. He scanned the room and caught my eye, giving me a small nod to tell me he was okay. He even managed a ghost of his usual smile, but it was strained.

Everyone rose when the tribunal entered, consisting of seven men. They were magistrates and other prominent Denham figures. Normally, the governor would lead the group, but Governor Doyle had to sit out for obvious reasons. A magistrate named Adam Dillinger had instead been appointed as the lead.

“We’re here to rule on a . . . complicated dispute that took place in Hadisen Colony. Here, we will seek out the truth in accordance with the laws of our mother Osfrid. Let us pray to Uros for guidance.”

He led us in prayer, and most everyone in the room bowed their heads solemnly. Peeking up, I saw that several people were watching Cedric, as though they expected him to stand up and conduct some black rite then and there.

“Mister Doyle,” said Magistrate Dillinger. “Please come up and tell your story.”

Warren strode forward. He’d washed and shaved and wore new clothes, which irked me. That came of having supporters here. Cedric looked shabby by comparison, but who did he have to rely on? Certainly not his family. And I hadn’t been able to dress myself without charity.

No one needed Warren’s background, but he gave it anyway, painting himself as a model citizen who’d followed in his father’s footsteps. He made sure to remind everyone of all the good things Governor Doyle had done and how Warren humbly hoped to emulate his father in Hadisen.

“As part of my new position, I knew it was crucial I seek a wife and advocate of righteous family values. When the Glittering Court began its new season, I began courting one of its girls—a young woman who called herself Adelaide Bailey.”

Half of the courtroom turned to stare at me, and I kept my gaze focused forward, refusing to meet any of them in the eye.

“By all appearances, Miss Bailey seemed like an honest, virtuous girl. She led me to believe she was interested in me and was on the verge of contracting a marriage. It was then that I found out she’d been . . . involved with Cedric Thorn, one of the Glittering Court’s procurers.” There was no mistaking what he meant by “involved.”

“That’s a serious accusation,” said one of the tribunal members.

“Miss Clara Hayes of the Glittering Court witnessed their indiscretion firsthand,” said Warren. “Several others saw the aftermath. You may question any of them for further clarification.”

“What did you do next, Mister Doyle?” asked Dillinger.

“What could I do?” Warren spread his hands wide. “I’d hardly push for a woman whose heart was with another. I felt sorry for them, really. So I decided to help.”

He detailed the arrangement he’d had with us in Hadisen, again painting himself as an exemplary—and charitable—man. Several spectators shook their heads in a mix of anger and sympathy, clearly showing they thought Warren had been taken advantage of.

“I gave Mister Thorn every opportunity to succeed,” Warren said. “Equipment, training. But it soon became clear that he’d taken on more than he was capable of. He’s a businessman—a scholar. Hardly suited to the kind of labor needed on the frontier. His ineptitude resulted in accidents, one fall in particular being especially bad. And he’d make grandiose claims of huge gold strikes but never actually unearth said gold, no matter how long we kept waiting for it.”

I didn’t realize I was starting to stand up until Aiana pushed me back down. “Wait,” she murmured.

The true atrocity came when Warren described that last day. “I wanted to believe his stories of gold on the claim—especially since Adelaide’s contract expiration was approaching. I brought several men out to the claim with the intent of excavating the gold, though things almost ended before they began when more of Mister Thorn’s inexperience nearly resulted in him blowing all of us up. It was clear he and Miss Bailey were growing desperate at this point. There was no way they were going to pay off their debt in time, and things grew worse when we discovered Alanzan artifacts in Mister Thorn’s possession.”

Scandalized murmurs slid around the room, and Dillinger called for silence.

“I needed to talk things out with them, clearly,” Warren continued. “I was certain there was a misunderstanding. I sent my men away for lunch and sat down to discuss how I might better help this couple—and that’s when the treachery started. With me alone, Mister Thorn attacked, intending to kill me and make it look as though claim raiders had done it—thus freeing him of the contract. Through the greatest stroke of luck, two of my men returned to retrieve something and were able to save me in time. They subdued Mister Thorn, but the danger wasn’t over. Miss Bailey took up her lover’s fight and then brazenly offered herself in an attempt to distract me. As I was refusing her, she stabbed me with a knife. I can’t imagine what would have happened if Silas Garrett of the McGraw Agency hadn’t arrived.”

The tribunal asked more clarifying questions, and I was amazed at how Warren had an answer for everything. Each event, each detail was twisted in a way that favored him and supported his lies. When he was dismissed, it was clear he had almost everyone on his side.

Cedric was called next. One of the magistrates held out a holy text of Uros. “Please swear to tell the truth . . . if you’re able.”

I was shocked at the insinuation from a group that claimed impartiality. More buzz stirred in the room, especially when Cedric placed his hand on the book without it bursting into flames or something equally absurd.

Normally, in cases with conflicting views, Cedric would be asked to retell the story from his point of view. Instead, Dillinger asked, “Mister Thorn, are you an Alanzan?”

Cedric blinked in surprise. I was sure he’d prepared for this question but hadn’t expected the irregular order. “I simply had Alanzan artifacts in my possession. But no one saw me worshipping with them.”

“Why, then, would you have such items in your possession?”

“Curiosity,” said Cedric, keeping his tone mild. “I knew Alanzans at the university in Osfro. They gave me the items, hoping to convert me.”

“And you didn’t report these deviants?” asked another tribunal member.

“They were young and rebellious. I thought it was a phase they’d outgrow before returning to Uros and the six glorious angels.”

Dillinger held up a piece of paper. “We have a signed testimony from a convicted Alanzan—one Thaddeus Brooks—who was caught in the act of worship. He swears you participated with him in some heathen rite called a ‘Star Advent.’ How do you respond to that?”

Cedric gave no sign of distress. “I think an imprisoned man would say anything to get himself freed.”

“Alanzan worship is illegal in both Denham and Hadisen,” Dillinger stated. “Illegal religions are punishable with execution if you have no protection from another colony or a royal exemption.”

“I am aware,” said Cedric.

“Is the young woman who calls herself Miss Bailey an Alanzan?” asked the tribunal member to Dillinger’s right.

“No,” Cedric replied swiftly. “Miss Bailey made it clear on many occasions that she believes they’re misguided pagans. I’ll swear to that as much as you like.”

The tribunal pushed the Alanzan angle a while longer, but Cedric remained firm on his defense: that no one had caught him worshipping. But Dillinger made it clear that he thought Thaddeus Brooks’s testimony was proof enough.

They finally let Cedric tell his side of the story. The tribunal questioned and commented in a way that made the details sound improbable and even silly. The members made no attempts to hide their derision, and the courtroom echoed that sentiment. And as I’d feared, the improvement of his injuries disguised just how excessively brutal his attack had been. One magistrate pointed out that a broken arm wasn’t out of line when two men tried to stop a murderer.

Cedric was released, and Dillinger called, “Lady Elizabeth Witmore, Countess of Rothford.”

Anyone who hadn’t noticed me in the courtroom before noticed me now. I moved to the front with all the haughty confidence of a girl who’d spent her life being told her bloodline was superior to all others. I took my vow to Uros and then met Dillinger’s gaze with a coolness that told him he was wasting my time.

He cleared his throat. “Lady Witmore . . . please tell us how you came to be part of the Glittering Court under an assumed name.”

I’d expected this and had my answer well prepared. I spoke of how my family’s fortunes were fading and that I realized I’d have more opportunity in the New World. I told them my maid had run away, and I saw a chance for myself. “A title is nothing without substance,” I declared. “Perhaps I acted impulsively, but others have fought to find a place in the New World with success. I decided to join them.”

This earned a few approving nods until Dillinger declared: “So you lied and deceived others to get your way. Did Cedric Thorn know your true identity? Did he help cover it up?”

“No. He’d never met my lady-in-waiting. He didn’t learn my true identity until much later in Adoria.”

I told my Hadisen story, repeating almost everything Cedric had said in his version. When I reached the point about Warren assaulting me, the men on the tribunal showed obvious skepticism.

“Do you have any proof of this alleged attack?” asked one man.

I regarded him with narrowed eyes. “I have my word.”

“Plenty of women make claims like that. It’s an easy thing when there are no witnesses. The man says one thing, the woman another.”

It dawned on me then that I’d been wrong in thinking my title would give me an edge in this trial. The edge here was in being male. Women were easy to dismiss.

“Also,” added Dillinger, “I find it unlikely a woman of loose morals would object so violently to a man’s advances.”

The statement was so ludicrous that it took me several moments to form my response. “I . . . think any woman—moral or immoral—would object when forced against her will. And I don’t appreciate what you’re implying about my virtue.”

“Weren’t you Cedric Thorn’s lover?”

I had my imperious mask back on. “Preserving my virtue until marriage has been a principle I’ve adhered to my entire life. I didn’t give up my virginity to a man I wasn’t married to, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“You swear to that?”

“Yes.”

“Then why were you drinking cinnamon thorn tea?” I saw a few whispers at Dillinger’s words, which I found comical. Plenty of women drank it to prevent children. Everyone pretended they didn’t.

“Do you have proof I was?” I asked. I’d thrown away the dregs before serving Warren his tea, and there’d been none in my possessions at the Marshall house.

“Mister Doyle states he smelled it.”

“Just as I’ve stated he assaulted me. The man says one thing, the woman another.”

As more details were examined, I became certain this tribunal had been bought off to cast everything Cedric and I said in a negative light. My virtue was constantly brought up in my examination, as was my allegedly deceitful nature.

We broke for lunch after that, and I told Aiana my thoughts.

“Bribes go a long way,” she said.

I watched wistfully as Cedric was led out with the others. He sent a quick parting glance my way, slightly less confident than before. “Our so-called bribe money can’t match theirs. If we can even get that money.”

Aiana nodded toward the door. “Why don’t you find out?”

I turned and saw Mira entering, impeccable in a luxurious riding dress. I hurried over and hugged her, relieved she was safe. “How’d it go?” I whispered.

She grinned. “Easy. I could have sold him on anything.”

I hugged her again. “Thank you.”

“How’d it go here?”

“Let’s just say . . . not as successful as your task.”

We caught Mira up over lunch, and then the proceedings resumed. Silas Garrett gave a wonderfully impartial testimony that didn’t favor either side but did throw a couple of questions up about Warren’s story. I didn’t know if it’d be enough, though. Elias gave a predictably convoluted statement after that, and then the tribunal adjourned for the day. Cedric and Warren were escorted out separately, in different directions, and as luck would have it, Cedric was led toward the opposite side of the room and Warren was taken in my direction.

He paused in the aisle next to me, acting as though he needed to adjust something on his jacket. “How sad this must all be for you, Lady Witmore. First you traded security and a title to play house with scullery girls. When you got a chance to salvage your life from that downfall, you threw that opportunity away too for some romantic daydream. And just when you thought things might finally be going your way, poof!” He held his hands outstretched. “That crumbles away too. So much you’ve given up. So much you’ve endured. And when all is said and done, the only thing you’ll walk away with is . . . well, nothing.”

I clenched my fists, lest he see how I trembled. I couldn’t let him know how his words had struck me. Because in many ways, he was right. I’d made sacrifice after sacrifice in my life over the last year until I was left with one thing, the only thing that mattered: Cedric. And now they were threatening to take him too.

I met Warren’s gaze unflinchingly. “Just as you’ll have nothing when you walk to the gallows. I’ll see you hanged for what you’ve done to my loved ones. I know you had something to do with Tamsin’s disappearance.”

I saw the slightest glint of surprise in his eyes, but whether that was from shock at being found out or confusion at the accusation, I couldn’t say. The delay had gone on too long, and his escorts moved him along.

“There are only a couple more witnesses tomorrow, but I’m sure it’ll all be the same,” I said as Mira and Aiana walked with me back to town later. Not being able to talk to Cedric had been the final blow of the day.

Mira slung her arm around me. “Stay strong.”

They ate dinner with me at Aiana’s place, and then Aiana said she had to take Mira back to Wisteria Hollow before curfew. “I’ll be out on my own errands after that. Stay inside, and keep the door locked. There’s no telling what this may have stirred up.”

I hated to see Mira go, but there was a good chance her absence had been noted. She’d done more than enough for me today, and I didn’t want her to get in trouble.

“Your contract’s coming up,” I said. “What will you do?”

She shrugged. “Something.”

I cast a glance over toward where Aiana had gone in her bedroom. “Is the reason you haven’t chosen someone . . . are you and Aiana, I mean . . .”

It took Mira a few moments to understand, and she shook her head. “No, no. Aiana’s been good to me . . . a, uh, mentor of sorts. But I like men. I just don’t like any one of the ones I’ve met.”

Seeing as I’d already embarrassed myself, I figured I should go the whole way. “Before you came to Blue Spring Manor, did anything ever happen between you and Cedric?”

She seemed to find that even more incredible. “No. Why would you think that?”

I flushed. “He’s always liked you. And he did so much for you.”

Mira’s smile was gentle. “He did so much for me because he’s a kind man. And we’ll find a way to save him.”

They left me alone with my whirling thoughts. I’d come up with some brilliant, outlandish idea—like breaking in and rescuing Cedric—and then the reality would hit, plunging me into despair. It was mentally exhausting, and I’d decided to go to bed when a knock sounded at the door.

Remembering Aiana’s warnings, I nearly made no response at all. Then, I crept forward and asked, “Who’s there?”

“Gideon Stewart.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“I’m a minister—from Grashond. I helped bring your friend Tamsin back.”

Memories of the day of her return stirred in me. Most of the Grashond delegates had blurred together, but the more I thought about it, the more his name began to sound familiar. I was still reluctant to open the door.

“What do you want?”

“I might know a way to save Mister Thorn. It involves the colony of Westhaven, but I’d need your help.”

At the mention of Westhaven, I couldn’t resist. I opened the door and found the handsome blond man who’d come to Wisteria Hollow. He wore the same drab attire as before. After casting a quick glance down the hall, I waved him in and shut the door.

“Well?” I kept my arms crossed over me. Religious purist or not, I wanted to be cautious.

“I was at the courthouse today . . . and I’m very sorry for what you’re going through,” he said. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think they’ll be able to rule on the dispute. Too many contradictions, no proof. With no one killed, they’ll write it off as a brawl.”

My heart sank. Of course I was glad that meant Cedric wouldn’t be implicated, but I hated the thought of Warren going unpunished.

Gideon made a face. “Unfortunately, I think the Alanzan charge will hold. Even without actual worship, those artifacts are damning. I’ve seen men convicted for far less. Those in power will accept that witness’s statement, and I’m sure Warren Doyle has enough sway to get the full punishment enforced—probably immediately.”

“Death.” I sank into the chair. I was on a precipice with Cedric again. If he died, I would fall and fall forever. “So what miracle can you pull out? Do the Heirs have some special power?”

He gave me a small smile. “No. But the colony of Westhaven does. Those who’ve bought a stake would technically be citizens of it. The reciprocal privilege between the colonies allows citizens from outside to practice certain things, even if they’re illegal in that colony—so long as they don’t break any other laws. This would apply to Cedric. The fight in Hadisen had nothing to do with the Alanzans.”

“That’s great,” I said, “except Cedric’s not a citizen of Westhaven. Though it hasn’t been for lack of trying.”

“There are representatives from Westhaven in the city right now, and they’ve been selling stakes. If Cedric was able to purchase one, and you found an attorney to go over the paperwork and, how shall I put this, modify the date, Cedric could claim retroactive protection as a citizen of Westhaven. Assuming you could find that kind of attorney. I suppose in this town, you can find anything.”

I sat up straight, too shocked by this possibility to even reflect on a righteous minister suggesting something so illegal. “I might . . . might know an attorney who would.”

Gideon brightened. “Then you just need to buy the stake.”

“There’s no ‘just’ about it. I know how much those cost. And we don’t have—” I groaned as the answer hit me. “I know where I can get the money. Maybe. But it won’t be easy.”

“I’m sure it won’t. I wish . . . I wish I could help you on that front. But I’ve already spent my savings buying my own stake.”

I regarded him in astonishment. “Why would a minister from the Heirs of Uros buy a stake in a religiously tolerant colony—one that’s already getting a reputation for wild ways?”

He gave me a wry smile. “Because this minister isn’t so sure he agrees with his brethren anymore.”

“Is that why you’re sympathetic to Cedric?” I asked softly.

“Somewhat. If someone’s beliefs aren’t hurting others, I don’t believe they should be punished for it. And . . .” His face fell. “You were her friend. She spoke of you often. I couldn’t help her, but maybe . . . maybe I can help you.”

“Tamsin,” I said. Familiar tears stung my eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I did what I could to find her—to find out what happened to her that night . . .” He looked genuinely distraught, melting my earlier wariness.

“It’s okay,” I said. “There’s nothing any of us could have done.” But as I reflected on the bizarre inconsistences around Warren’s story about what had happened to Tamsin, I wondered if that was true.

“I don’t know if that’s the case, but I’ll have to come to terms with that later.” He shook off his grief and focused on me again. “For now, tell me how I can help.”

I thought about it. “Can you get me a horse?”

“I have one downstairs. I rode it out from Wisteria Hollow.”

“Well, that’s the first thing that’s worked out for me in a while. Give me a few minutes.” I left him to change out of the dress and into my split skirt and blouse. They’d been laundered and looked a little better. As expected, I also found various weapons hidden around Aiana’s home and helped myself to another knife. Then I penned a quick note and gave it to Gideon with instructions to deliver it to Nicholas Adelton.

“He’s the attorney who’ll help?” Gideon asked.

“I think so.” I considered. “I hope so.”

We went downstairs and found a perky mare tethered in front of the tavern. Gideon patted her. “Her name is Beth.”

I couldn’t help a laugh. “Lizzie and Beth. I can’t escape my past.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just get that letter to Mister Adelton.”

Gideon scrutinized me nervously. “You aren’t going to do anything dangerous, are you? Should I . . . should I come with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” I said, hoping that was true. “Just going for a short ride.”

My short ride, of course, was actually a two-hour one outside the city to Walter’s contact, the one holding my painting. Dusk was falling, and I rode out with my hat pulled low, hoping it wouldn’t be immediately obvious I was a woman. Denham was an established colony and certainly not lawless, but it had its dark element just like any other place. And until the world changed drastically, a woman riding out alone in the night was at risk.

But as I left the city limits and rode down the darkened road, I couldn’t let the possible threats slow me down. Fear was only another enemy, and I had far too many others to worry about just now. Cedric’s salvation was within my grasp, and I would not be defeated.

Mira had given me back the sheet with Walter’s names and locations, and I carried it now. I also had a letter he’d written, authorizing his contact to yield the painting. It was a two-hour trip south, then back to the city, and then another two hours up north to the buyer. I’d be out all night, and there was a good chance I might not make the trial’s start tomorrow. I urged Beth on, knowing I risked exhausting her.

Amazingly, I encountered almost no one on the road. Those I did pass didn’t give me a second glance. It was deep night when I rode into Idylwood, a sleepy village that showed the promise of eventually becoming a flourishing town. Walter’s contact was the town’s blacksmith, and I found his home easily. I tied Beth up near a trough, which she drank from gratefully.

The blacksmith was surprised to see me—even more surprised that I was a woman. He read the letter and handed it back with a shrug. “I guess Walter employs all types now. Come with me.”

He led me to a locked shed in the back that, when opened, revealed mostly a lot of junk. I worried what shape my painting would be in. He moved things aside and finally pulled out a cloth-wrapped, rectangular object. I unwrapped it and examined it by the light of my lantern. It was my painting, in exactly the same condition as I’d last seen it in Wisteria Hollow’s cellar.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“Very. Thank you.”

I wrapped it back up in its padding, and he helped me tie it to the back of Beth’s saddle. It wasn’t ideal for transportation, but I felt confident the canvas wouldn’t tear. A little bouncing wouldn’t hurt it much.

Beth and I rode off back on the black road to Cape Triumph. A quarter moon offered little guidance, and I was glad this was a well-worn and traveled road. When I reached the edge of the city, I ended up circling around it. Taking the extra time seemed like a better choice than being recognized.

The road north was narrower than the one south, surrounded by thick woods that made the way even darker. I knew I should go slowly in case of unseen obstacles, but I was growing uneasy about the passing time. It had to be after midnight, and I still had a lot of traveling to do—not to mention finalizing the paperwork back in Cape Triumph. There were only a few more witnesses in the trial. I didn’t know how soon the tribunal would make a ruling. It was possible the paperwork might overturn a conviction. But I knew sometimes, especially for heretics, punishment was enacted immediately. I couldn’t spare the time.

I urged poor tired Beth into a hard gallop. For all my fine talk about being a great horsewoman, what I was doing was incredibly foolhardy. That was confirmed for me only a few minutes later when Beth suddenly stumbled, nearly throwing me and the painting from her back. She managed to catch herself just in time but came to a quick stop, refusing to go further. I dismounted and tried to see what obstacle she’d tripped on. As it turned out, she’d lost a horseshoe.

“Damn it,” I cried into the night. An owl answered in return. Further examination showed Beth didn’t seem to have damaged her leg or hoof, but there was no way I’d be able to ride her at the earlier rate. And from her exhausted appearance, she probably wouldn’t have let me do it much longer anyway.

I got back on her. Even at an easier trot, every equestrian instructor I’d ever had would chastise me for this. It risked further injury. I hoped that wouldn’t happen—just as I hoped the painting’s buyer would sell me a horse.

But Beth refused to budge. I was finally forced to go on foot, leading her behind me. Each step down the road was agonizing—not because of the physical toll, but the mental. I was weary and frustrated. The moon was traveling farther and farther across the sky, and all I could think about was how each delay put Cedric at risk. At least two hours had passed when I heard a thunder of hoofbeats behind me. I instantly became guarded, not knowing if this would be a help or hindrance. At the rate the riders were coming, there’d be no chance to divert into the woods, so I simply moved to the side and waited for what was to come. I put my hand on my knife.

Five men rode up, slowing when they reached me. One held a lantern. They all had weathered faces, with worn clothing suggestive of a laborious life. I didn’t recognize any of them. But they recognized me.

“Countess,” one said cheerfully. “We’re here to escort you back to Osfrid.”