Chapter 7

No one spoke. Everyone was too stunned. It was Jasper’s next proclamation that really elicited a reaction.

“As a result, you will also be taking your exams early. They’ll start in one week.”

Beside me, Tamsin gasped and put a hand to her chest. Other girls, wide-eyed, turned to each other in alarm and began whispering. “Hush,” warned Mistress Masterson. “Mister Thorn isn’t finished speaking.”

“I know this change in plans is unexpected,” Jasper continued. “But really, it’s a reflection of your outstanding progress that we feel confident in bringing you to Adoria early. In just a couple of months, you’ll be in a whole new world—adored and coveted like the jewels you are. I know my brother will be overcome when he sees this year’s class.”

Charles Thorn, the Glittering Court’s chief financial backer, alternated procurement with Jasper each year. He was in Adoria now and would sail back to Osfrid in the spring to recruit the next batch of girls while Jasper oversaw our progress in Adoria.

“I have no doubt you’ll all perform excellently in your exams,” Jasper continued. “I’d love to stay but must check in on the other manors as well. Cedric, however, will be coming soon to supervise during your exams and offer moral support.”

I cleared my throat and stepped forward. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

Jasper frowned. “Cedric offering moral support?”

“No. Making the crossing in late winter. Isn’t that still storm season?”

“I like to think of it more as early spring. And I’d hardly make the journey myself if I thought we’d be in danger. Surely, Adelaide, you haven’t gained some sort of nautical knowledge I don’t know about, have you? Surpassing mine and that of the ship’s captains who agreed to take us?”

It was a ridiculous question to answer, so I didn’t. Of course I didn’t have any seafaring expertise, but I had read the countless books on Adoria’s history that were part of the curriculum here. And there’d been plenty of tales about early settlers learning the hard way that winter crossings weren’t advised.

We were dismissed to our rooms, and Tamsin, as I expected, had a lot to say. She flounced down on her bed, uncaring of wrinkling her lawn dress.

“Can you believe this? They’ve moved up our exams! To next week.”

Mira also looked uneasy, and I remembered to appear appropriately concerned. We could’ve taken them today, and it would have made no difference to me.

“That’s not a lot of time to study,” Mira said.

“I know!” wailed Tamsin. “But on our way out, I heard Mistress Masterson say that at this point, we either know it or we don’t.”

“She’s right,” I said, earning astonished looks from both of them. “Come on, you don’t think we can all get passing grades in every subject? None of us are going to get cut.” A girl would have to fail in multiple subjects to get removed from the Glittering Court’s trip to Adoria, and anyone doing that badly would have long since been asked to leave.

“I don’t want to just get a passing grade,” said Tamsin. “I want the best grades. I want to be the diamond.”

“The what?” Mira and I asked in unison. I’d heard her talk about excelling many times, but I’d never heard mention of any diamond.

Tamsin leaned forward, her brown eyes alight. “It’s this year’s theme. When they present us in Adoria, they always have some sort of theme. They tailor our wardrobes around it and assign each of us roles roughly equivalent to our scores. Last year it was flowers, and the top girl was an orchid. The next was a rose. Then a lily. I think the year before that, it was birds. This year, it’s jewels.”

“And the top girl is a diamond,” I guessed.

“Yes. The top three girls across all manors get invited to the most parties in Adoria and get special introductions to the most eligible men. I mean, technically we’re all exceptional, but Jasper and Charles build up a lot of mystique around those three. It creates demand—and increases the marriage fees. And that increases the surety money that we get to keep for ourselves.”

Again, it was of little concern to me. I’d make sure I placed in the middle of the scores, just as I always did. Tamsin unquestionably did the best in Blue Spring, and I couldn’t believe there was any girl in the other manors who was more motivated.

As the exams loomed nearer, the next week became a flurry of activity. Our regular lessons were cancelled, so that we could each devote our time to studying in those areas that needed the most work. The instructors who rotated through all four manors stopped by more frequently, offering tutoring to those who requested it. The manor was in nonstop motion.

As for me, I had to contrive areas of study to make myself look busy. Tamsin became withdrawn, isolating herself with books, and I was surprised at how much I missed her frenetic energy. Mira didn’t even really need me to drill her in language anymore. She slipped into her accent during casual conversation, but when prompted, her Osfridian was nearly indistinguishable from a native’s. In fact, it was better than that of some of the other girls, who’d come in with atrocious lower-class dialects. Sometimes Mira even practiced the accents of other languages for fun.

I needed to look like I was doing something, so I spent my time rereading a book on what Mistress Masterson delicately referred to as “Female Studies.” Along with the particulars of pregnancy and childbirth, it also included information on what led to those. “A pleasing wife is pleasing in the bedroom. Your warmth and affection will ensure a happy husband,” Mistress Masterson had said in our lessons, often in what was perhaps the least warm voice imaginable. It was pretty much the only area of study that hadn’t been part of my previous life. Most of the girls had been mortified when we’d had those lectures, but I couldn’t help but regard it with a guilty fascination.

“Isn’t that the third time you’ve read that?” Mira teased on the day before exams. She was on her bed with language books while Tamsin, on a rare break, was writing another letter.

Flushing, I closed the book. “I just think it’s more puzzling than almost everything else, that’s all.”

Mira glanced back at her papers. “I don’t know. I think it’ll just work itself out when the time comes.”

“I suppose,” I said, wondering not for the first time if it was an area she already had firsthand experience with. Her cool countenance betrayed nothing.

“There’s nothing to know,” Tamsin said, not even bothering to look up from her letter. “Except that we need to wait until our wedding nights and then let our husbands teach us what they want.”

Mira set her book aside and leaned back against the headboard. “I don’t like that. The idea that it’s all up to them. That they’re in control. Shouldn’t we have the right to figure out what we want too?”

This drew Tamsin’s attention at last. “And how would you do that? I knew a girl back home who gave her virtue to a man who promised to marry her. And you know what? He didn’t. He was promised to another and told her it had all been a misunderstanding. It ruined her. So don’t get another crazy idea.”

“Another?” I asked.

“She was going on the other day about how she was going to pay her own marriage price,” said Tamsin.

“I didn’t say I was going to for sure,” Mira corrected. “Just that it was possible. The contracts don’t state we have to get married—just that our fees have to be paid. If you got the money, you could buy yourself out and be free.”

“You want to go to one of the workhouses?” I exclaimed. I remembered that first day with Ada, when Cedric had explained how girls unwilling to fulfill their contracts would be sent off to other, less desirable employment.

“No, no.” Mira sighed. “But I mean if you could find some other way to raise the money while you were meeting suitors in Adoria, you could just pay it off on your own terms. That’s all.”

“How would you raise that kind of money?” asked Tamsin. “The minimum price for any of us is one hundred gold. Sometimes higher.”

“I’m just saying it’s possible, that’s all.”

I smiled and returned to my scandalous book. Mira sometimes gave the impression that she could easily take or leave the Glittering Court. It wasn’t surprising she’d come up with such an idea—though Tamsin was right: It would be difficult to implement.

When the first exam day came, we were all called down to a meeting in the great hall. Our entrance was much different than the initial shuffling of our early days. We descended the grand staircase one by one, moving at a sedate, graceful pace that allowed us to be admired by those gathered below. As I made my way, I spotted Cedric standing with our instructors, making me more self-conscious than I would have normally been.

Still, I completed the journey perfectly and lined up with the other girls, standing in an elegant pose long drilled into us. Mistress Masterson inspected us, and when she’d moved past, I glanced over and saw Cedric watching me. He met my eyes briefly and then shifted his gaze to Mira.

Mistress Masterson issued some instructions about how the day would proceed and then turned to Cedric. “Any inspiring words?”

He smiled his showy smile. “Nothing to say except ‘good luck’—not that I think any of you’ll need it. I’ve seen you over the last eight months. You’re all exceptional.” Unlike his father, Cedric was telling the truth about keeping tabs on our progress. He’d always chatted with each girl on his visits, genuinely wanting to learn more.

As we dispersed for the exams, he caught my sleeve. “How was your visit with Aunt Sally?”

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, was that the best you could dredge up? I think I would have been better off alone and pathetic.”

“Not true. You’re too likeable for anyone to believe you don’t have at least one friend who’d show up to support you. And I didn’t have much notice to find someone. I only heard about the schedule change at the last minute.”

“Why did it change?”

“Along with you girls, Father transports all sorts of goods for trade to the colonies. If he can get there ahead of the other spring ships, he can turn a better profit. When he finally got a couple of ships willing to make the early crossing, he jumped on it,” Cedric explained. “And so, I had to find an actress for you.”

“Not just any actress. A great star of some of the biggest theatrical productions in Osfro. Or so I hear.”

Cedric raised an eyebrow at that. “Trust me, I did not find her starring in a big theatrical production. But it was better that people noticed your crazy relative than wondered how you had no one in the world.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Grudgingly, I added, “Thank you.”

“I’m always at your service. But you’d better go before you’re late. I hope you do well.”

“I won’t. I’ll do just good enough.”

And I held to that as the exams began. All the information we’d been drilled in over the last eight months was suddenly condensed into three days. Some of the exams were written. Some, like dance, had to be conducted in a more hands-on way. It was exhausting, even for me, particularly as I had to pick and choose which areas to succeed in and which to do poorly in. It was definitely a balancing act, but I was certain I’d place comfortably in the middle. I’d make good on my promise to Cedric to attract no unnecessary attention.

“Adelaide, dear,” Miss Hayworth said, halfway into my dance exam. “What are you doing?”

“The waltz?” I offered.

She shook her head, making a few notes in her papers. “I don’t understand. You executed this perfectly last week and completely botched the new rigaudon. Today, it’s reversed.”

I tried to keep my face blank. “Nerves will do that to you, ma’am.”

“Continue,” she said, waving us on and wearing the exasperated look I often brought out in her.

Nearby, I saw Clara smirk at my critique. In her time here, she’d come to excel in this area, so much so that Miss Hayworth had suggested she lead the opening dances in Adoria. She needed these scores to offset the abysmal ones she had in academic areas, and really, I didn’t care what she thought anyway.

Tamsin’s thoughts, however, were something I deeply cared about. Farther across the room, I saw her watching me with a puzzled look. She soon slipped back into the rhythm of the dance, but I could’ve kicked myself for my error. Alternately excelling and failing was easy enough to do around here. Keeping track of which areas I was allegedly deficient in was more difficult. This wasn’t the first time I’d mixed something up—and this wasn’t the first time Tamsin had noticed.

Written tests followed dance, something that made me much more comfortable. No one but the instructors knew if I mixed something up. But another slip followed on the second day, during our music exam. While we weren’t expected to be experts on any one instrument, we were supposed to have a passing knowledge of each one. Rather than quiz us on all of them for our final, our instructor simply selected three and based our score on that. I hadn’t anticipated that. The first two, the flute and harp, were ones I’d always purposely performed poorly on. I assumed the last instrument she’d produce would be a harpsichord or lute—which I always showed my true proficiency on. Instead, she chose the violin. It wasn’t played much by women in Adoria, so I’d always regarded it as a safe choice to botch here. Now, I realized, to pull a decent music score, I needed to excel in something. And so, to the amazement of her and my peers, I produced a perfectly executed melody on the violin.

“Well, look at that,” Mistress Bosworth said, beaming. “You’ve been practicing.”

“You have not been practicing,” whispered Tamsin later, once the exam was over and we were on break to go to dinner. “Where did you learn to do that?”

I shrugged. “From her.”

“The last time she brought out the violin, you couldn’t even hold the bow straight!”

“Tamsin, I don’t know. Sometimes I get anxious and mess things up. What’s it matter? You’ve been doing great.”

As hoped, that distracted her. “I have,” she said proudly. “I answered all of those religious and political essays for Mister Bricker perfectly. And I know I got almost everything on the Adorian culture and society test right too. That’s one of the most important, you know.”

I smiled, genuinely happy for her. “You’ll get your diamond rank in no time.”

“If I can beat out the girls in the other manors. I know I’m the best here.” She said it as a fact, not even bragging. “But who knows about the other three houses?”

I wasn’t worried for her, particularly as the rest of the exam days went by. That zeal and intense resolve I’d seen since the first day were fully turned on, and she threw herself into each exam. When she returned to our room each night, she’d fight her exhaustion and study more.

After the tests ended on the third and final day, we were all worn out, even those who hadn’t studied as much as Tamsin had. Everyone was weary and drawn, and I gratefully went to bed as soon as we were excused from dinner. Neither my roommates nor I said much of anything, choosing instead to drop into sleep with a sigh of relief.

The next morning was a different matter. Rested and free of exams, we were hit by the truth: We had done it. We’d completed what we set out to do when we’d joined the Glittering Court. We didn’t have our results yet, but the triumph of our accomplishment was heady. Mistress Masterson gave us the whole day off, with plans for our first big celebration that night in honor of Vaiel’s Day, greatest of the winter holidays. We’d all been assigned specific tasks to ready for the party, and none of us minded applying our hard-won abilities.

“I love Vaiel’s Day,” Tamsin said as we put on our day dresses. “The food. The smells. The decorations. Seems a shame we’re doing it all so last-minute.”

She was right. Usually, winter festivities started weeks ahead of the angel of wisdom’s holy day, allowing the cheerful atmosphere to last most of the month. “Well, if Jasper hadn’t moved up our timeline, our celebrations wouldn’t have gotten shoved aside for his profit,” I reminded her.

“At least we get some sort of celebration. You know those poor heretics of Uros—the barefoot priests? They don’t celebrate at all. Say it’s idolatry. But maybe nothing at all is better than what the Alanzans do. Who’d want to be out there worshipping trees in this weather?”

“Among the trees,” corrected Mira. “Vaiel’s Day is Midwinter for them—the longest night of the year. The Alanzans pray outside to Deanziel for insight and then will give thanks tomorrow to Alanziel for a return of the sun and the days getting longer.”

I regarded her with some surprise. It wasn’t often she pulled out a fact I didn’t know, but then, she’d also probably met real Alanzans. Like so many areas, her religious beliefs were something I never inquired about. She attended orthodox services to Uros with us, which was really all that mattered.

“Doesn’t matter what they worship. It’s all pagan superstition.” Satisfied with her appearance, Tamsin turned toward the door. “Well, time to get to work. I can’t wait until we have other people to do this for us.”

Most of the girls—like Tamsin—had been assigned to cooking the formidable feast that Mistress Masterson had planned. A few were in charge of games and music, and I was on decorating duty, along with Clara, of all people. She and I managed the task by splitting the rooms and staying out of each other’s way.

When it came time to decorate the drawing room, I was surprised to find Cedric and Mira talking inside. He’d made himself scarce during our exam days.

“You’re respectable today. Back to being a proper Adorian,” I said. He’d been dressed that way at our first meeting but often slipped into Osfridian styles for informal occasions. His overcoat, made of a heavy blue fabric edged in gold, hung nearly to his knees, as opposed to the shorter ones more common here. His boots were also higher than those of continental fashion trends. He didn’t just look proper. He looked dazzling—not that I’d ever tell him. “It’s like you’ve been to finishing school.”

“Well, some people might have trouble dressing themselves, but I never have,” he said. “We’ll be on our way in another month, so I figured I should look the part. My father and I need to be nearly—though not quite—as grand as the rest of you if we’re going to show we’re legitimate brokers. It’s all about image, or so my uncle says.”

In the months that had passed, I’d given little thought to Clara’s malicious accusations about Cedric and Mira. Now, having walked in on the two of them talking, my curiosity was piqued. “Are you distracting Mira from her tasks?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

Mira exchanged a knowing smile with him. “Cedric is explaining a game called hexbones to me. Mistress Masterson put me in charge of entertainment, but I don’t know many Osfridian games.”

“Hexbones?” I asked incredulously. “That’s just a dice game stableboys and messengers play.” I bit off any other words as Cedric shot me a sharp look.

“It’s a game played by many people,” he amended. “Most girls here grew up with it. The elite classes don’t play it, true, and it’s smart of you to be thinking ahead like that. But I’m sure for one night we can all relax a little.”

“Yes, of course,” I said. It’d been a while since I’d slipped like that. “But where are you going to get the dice? You think Mistress Masterson has a spare set?”

“Oh, I think Nancy Masterson might be more of a rebel than we think.” Although he still smiled, Cedric had an unusual air about him tonight. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but he seemed almost melancholy—certainly not a mood I generally associated with him.

“Did you call for me?”

Mistress Masterson stuck her head in the doorway, having just been passing by at that moment.

“Ah, no,” said Cedric. Mira and I tried not to laugh. “Adelaide was just discussing her plans for the room and was hoping you’d approve.”

Mistress Masterson looked at me expectantly, and I tried not to glare at Cedric for shifting the focus to me. Quickly, I mustered a plan. “Uh, candles in all the windows and those gilt-edged blue runners for the tables. And if I move that sofa over there, it’ll open up that corner for conversation. It’d be nice to get some of that spiced incense too.”

Mistress Masterson nodded in approval. “Sounds like you’ve got it well in hand, dear.”

“And holly,” I suddenly said, looking at the mantel. “We should’ve gotten holly to make boughs. We always used to do that for winter parties in the capital.”

“That would’ve been nice,” Mistress Masterson agreed. “I didn’t even think about it with everything going on. Too late to get any now—the sun’s almost down.” She nodded toward a darkened window and, seeing my disappointed face, added, “Don’t worry. Clara had the foresight to go get fresh ivy and make some garlands. That’s almost as good.”

That only made things worse, knowing that Clara had one-upped me. Mistress Masterson left, and Mira gazed at the window for long moments before turning to Cedric. “Weren’t there some things you needed to take care of?”

“Yes . . . I should do that soon.”

When he made no motions to leave, Mira added, “You’ll have plenty of time before the party. Everyone’s very busy right now.”

“Yes . . . yes.” His smile returned, but I could see a tightness behind it, reinforcing that odd sense I’d gotten from him. “I’ll take care of that now.”

He started to walk out of the room and then paused by me. “Here.” I smiled as he pressed a set of dice into my hand.

“Of course. Of course you have a set.”

“It’s my spare, actually. We play all the time at school.”

“Are you any good?” I asked. “Never mind. I already know you are. It’s a game that involves reading people and manipulating them.”

“Exactly,” he said. “You’d be a natural.”

Despite that jest, he still seemed tense. “He’s acting very strangely,” I told Mira when he was gone.

“Is he? I don’t know him well enough to know.”

“Don’t you?” I asked pointedly.

Her face was completely innocent as she shook her head. “I’m sure everything’s fine. Do you want me to help you move the sofa before I leave?”

She and I lugged it across the room, both of us surprised at its weight. “I’m starting to agree with Tamsin,” I said. “It’ll be nice to have flocks of servants to do this for us.”

Mira grinned back. “We’ll see. I don’t know if I did well enough to get a husband with one servant, let alone flocks.”

“Not like Tamsin,” I said.

“Not like Tamsin.” She laughed. Her face grew serious. “But I hope I did well enough to get . . . I don’t know. A choice. Or at least someone I can respect.”

“Still want to buy out your contract?”

She helped straighten the sofa. “I think Tamsin was right about that. I’d need some sort of job on the side—and I’m guessing that’s not allowed.”

“Um, yeah. Jasper would probably frown on that kind of thing. But it won’t matter. I know you’ll have your pick of amazing men. And if you’re worried about your scores, you can always retake the tests.”

“Right. They were so fun the last time.” She stepped back and joined me to survey our work with the sofa. “Do you need anything else before I go?”

“Not unless you can make some holly materialize,” I said wistfully. “It just doesn’t feel like winter without it.”

“I wouldn’t know, since we don’t have it in Sirminica, but I think this room will be fine.”

After she left, her remark made me feel worse—as though I owed her holly for a true Osfridian experience. When I finished with the drawing room, Mistress Masterson released me from my duties early to go get ready for the party. Neither Tamsin nor Mira had returned yet. I put on my best dress, a full-skirted gown of sky-blue brocade scattered with pink flowers. A pink chemise was worn under it, peeping through the slashed sleeves and around the boned bodice. As I laced it up, I thought ahead to what it would be like when we switched to Adorian fashions. The skirts were slimmer and more maneuverable, the bodices less structured.

I wandered downstairs, looking for ways to help. No one needed me, and Cedric was gone. I’d kind of wanted to brag to him about having laced up the dress in under a minute. So, I busied myself by going over my decorative handiwork but found no flaws in it—except the absence of holly. A check of the clock told me I had an hour until dinner, and I made an impulsive decision.

I traded my delicate party shoes for sturdy boots and donned a wool cloak. Even so, I wasn’t prepared for the blast of cold that hit me when I went outside through one of the back doors. I questioned my decision for a moment, watching as my breath made frosty clouds, and then plunged forward.

I knew what Mistress Masterson would have said about me traipsing alone through the woods at this time of day. My grandmother would have said the same thing. But I’d been all over Blue Spring’s property in my time here, taking walks and picnics with the other girls. No dangerous animals roamed the grounds, and we were too far out of the way to have any vagabonds coming by. The only person I was likely to see was the kindly old groundskeeper.

It was the shortest day of the year, and sunset had come early. The light was almost gone from the western horizon, and the rest of the sky already glittered with stars. A rising moon and my own memory of the way to the holly trees made navigation easy. The cold was my biggest obstacle, and I regretted not bringing gloves. A thin coat of snow crunched softly as I passed over it.

I found the holly trees where I remembered, on the farthest edge of the property. Here, the grounds gave way to what was left of the wilder, original forest. Those who’d built Blue Spring long ago had cleared the trees around the house, replacing them with vast manicured lawns and ornate specimen plantings. It was a common practice among fashionable estates, and these sorts of wild woods were becoming scarce.

I’d had enough sense to bring a knife, and set to cutting off branches of holly. I wouldn’t be able to fashion them into a true wreath, but I’d have enough to make some nice arrangements for the mantels that would certainly outdo Clara’s ivy. I’d just about finished when I noticed something in my periphery.

At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I could see fairly well out here. The moon reflected off the snow, and stars spilled across the sky. Squinting at what had caught my eye, I wondered if I was seeing just another reflection. But no—this wasn’t the pale, silvery light of moon and snow. This was warmer. The golden light of a flame.

It was coming from even farther into the old woods, in a copse of hazel and oak. I crept forward to investigate. Most likely it was the groundskeeper. If not, and it was some trespasser, I could easily sneak away without being seen, and report it. Again, I knew Mistress Masterson and my grandmother would have a lot to say about this reasoning, but I didn’t care.

Clutching my holly boughs and knife, I crept forward, keeping to the shadows and concealment of the trees. As I drew closer, I saw that there were actually twelve lights: tiny lanterns in the snow, arranged in a diamond formation in a clearing canopied by the skeletal branches of ancient trees. Standing in the middle of the diamond, facing the most venerable of oaks, was a man in a billowing greatcoat that glowed scarlet in the lantern light. He knelt down, facing the diamond’s eastern point, and bowed to it, murmuring something I couldn’t make out. Then he knelt to the south and repeated the ritual.

Terror filled the pit of my stomach as I realized what was happening. I’d dismissed Tamsin’s joking comments about Alanzans and Midwinter, but here, before my very eyes, was one of those heretics conducting some arcane ritual in the night. I might not know as much about them as Mira, but I’d learned enough from whispered conversations in Osfro to know that the diamond made of twelve points was sacred to the Alanzans. It represented the twelve angels, six light and six dark.

A heretic is using our lands! I needed to get back and report it. Quietly, I started to retreat, just as he turned toward the northern point—facing me. It illuminated his face, revealing features I knew. Features I’d seen less than an hour ago. Features I’d spent far too much time contemplating.

Cedric.