The Glittering Court (28 page)

“I've never doubted it.” He kissed the top of my head.

“You can give me a better kiss than that if you want.”

“I
do
want to, but you need to sleep. Maybe tomorrow night, when you're better rested.”

I fought another yawn. “Some things don't change. You're so full of yourself, Cedric Thorn. Certain I'll just sleep next to you again tomorrow. We're not married yet. I haven't taken any vows to lie with you under the moon.”

He kissed the top of my head again. I melted into the security of his body and felt true happiness burn through me. After several minutes, I asked, “Cedric?”

His breathing had grown steady, and I wondered if he was asleep. Then: “Yes?”

“You smell good. You're the only thing that smells good out here. Is that from putting on the vetiver this morning, or did you bring it with you?”

“I brought it with me.”

I moved closer to him. “Thank Uros.”

As promised, Cedric woke up just before sunrise so that we could each go back to our respective places before we were missed. My body
still ached, but waking up next to Cedric made me not notice the pain as much.

“Is that some Alanzan thing?” I whispered before we parted. “Are you synced with the sun?”

“It's something I've done since childhood. I've always been a restless sleeper.” He squinted over at the eastern sky and raised a hand in salute. “But maybe it's some gift I didn't even know I had, right from Alanziel herself.” Seeing the golden dawn play over Cedric's features and cast a fiery hue to his hair, I could very well believe he was favored by the patron angel of passionate love.

As I returned to the Marshall wagon, I felt better than I had the previous night. Both venting and getting rest had given me new perspective. Cedric had been right. There was no question these were harsh conditions. Anyone would have difficulty. But it was truly the most out of my depth I'd ever felt in my life—which was saying something, after assuming someone else's identity. I had to be patient with myself as I figured this out.

And I did, in the days to come. I still didn't like the food or sleeping on the ground. But at least it didn't rain. Cedric and I continued spending our nights together at the camp's edge, and as the caravan fell into a routine, he spent more time with me in the day. Having such a large party, we moved pretty slowly. He and I could walk together, leading the horse, and easily keep pace with the others. The rough terrain and increasing elevation made it tiring, but I gradually toughened up.

“Grant Elliott was right about the sun,” I told Cedric one day. It was a few days into our trip. We were on a lunch break, sitting off by ourselves in the shade.

“What did he say?”

“That it was brutal.” I held up my hands for examination. “Look how tan these are already. I can't even imagine how my face must look.”

“Beautiful, as always,” said Cedric. He tore apart a piece of jerky and handed half to me.

“You didn't even look.”

“I don't have to.” But he did glance up and study my face. “I think you're getting a few freckles. They're cute.”

“Don't tell Tamsin that—she's always trying to hide hers. And my grandmother would faint if she could see me.” I'd started off flippant but felt my heart sink as I thought of Grandmama. “You know, when I heard she was looking for me, I first worried because of the obvious trouble I could get in. But what really bothers me about it now is knowing that she's still searching. She doesn't know what happened to me but still wants me. She hasn't given up.”

“Of course she hasn't. It isn't in the Witmore blood. Er, I mean Bailey blood. At least I assume it isn't in the Bailey blood to give up.”

I thought about my former maid. “Well, Ada kind of gave up . . . or did she? If she's at the dairy farm she wanted, I suppose it all worked out for her.”

Cedric put his arm around my shoulder, letting me lean against him. “Once we're married and everything is stable, you can send word back to your grandmother. Let her know you're all right.”

Afternoon sunlight shone down on us through the branches of the great maple behind our backs. If I weren't feeling so melancholy about Grandmama, I could have thought of it as an idyllic setting. “I just hope she can forgive me for—”

“There you two are,” snapped a harsh voice. We both looked up to see Elias Carter, Warren's chief assistant in Hadisen, striding toward us. “The party's getting packed up and nearly ready to move again. I should've known I'd find you two off here doing immoral things.”

“Eating lunch?” I asked.

Elias fixed me with a beady glare. He'd made it clear many times on this trip that he disapproved of us. “Don't be impertinent with me, Miss Bailey. How the governor ever found it in his magnanimous heart to forgive you and offer you this chance is beyond me. I wouldn't have. But then, he is a great man. I am not.”

“That's certainly true,” said Cedric, deadpan.

Elias's brow furrowed, as he seemed to realize he'd inadvertently insulted himself. Before he could respond, we heard a scream coming from the direction of the main camp. Without a backward glance at us, Elias ran off toward it. We followed close behind.

The first thing I saw was that the party hadn't been “nearly ready to move again,” as Elias had told us. There were signs all around that others had been in the middle of their lunches too. But no one was eating now. Everyone was on their feet. Some people, particularly those with children, were rushing toward the back of the camp with their little ones. Others—mostly men—were stalking toward the front. Until now, I hadn't realized how many weapons were in this caravan. Guns and knives abounded.

“What's going on?” I asked one woman.

“Icori,” she said. “Best hide with us.”

Cedric and I looked at each other in disbelief. “Icori haven't been in Denham in nearly two years,” he said. He put out an arm to stop me when I started to move forward. “You don't have to hide, but we probably shouldn't go bursting into the middle of this until we know what's going on.”

“I just want to see.”

Cedric reluctantly moved through the crowd with me. He wasn't the type to try to tell me what I could or couldn't do. But I had a feeling that if there was any sign of danger, he'd toss me over his shoulder and carry me away kicking and screaming.

We stopped near the edge of a group of would-be prospectors, all with guns drawn. It gave us a clear vantage down the dusty trail through the woods. There, Warren and several other armed men stood in front of two men on horseback who met every description of the Icori I'd ever read or heard. Well, except for the part about them being bloodthirsty demons.

Dress and styling aside, these two looked pretty human to me. One was an older man, late fifties perhaps, with a bushy red beard and a tunic of green plaid. He was the size of a bull, and despite his age,
something told me he could hold his own against a younger man in a fight. Probably a dozen younger men. The rider beside him didn't look much older than Cedric. His bare, muscled chest was painted with designs of blue woad. A tartan in that same green plaid was draped over one shoulder and held with a copper pin. White-blond hair hanging loosely to his shoulders contrasted with his skin. He was the one Warren seemed focused on while speaking.

“And I told you, you have no business here. Icori are not welcome on Denham lands—or any civilized Osfridian lands. Go back to the territories you were ceded.”

“I would gladly do that,” the blond man replied, “if your people would stop trespassing onto our lands.” There were two notable things about the way he spoke. One was that he was remarkably calm, given all the guns pointed at him. Second, his Osfridian was nearly perfect.

“No one wants your lands,” said Warren, which seemed slightly inaccurate given all that Osfrid and other countries across the sea had taken. “If anything, I've heard rumors of
your
people harassing our lands up north. Should that be true, you'll have real visitors in your lands in the form of our soldiers. A little more serious than these delusions you're prattling on about.”

“The burned villages I've seen aren't delusions. We demand answers.”

Warren scoffed. “Forgive me if I don't really feel the two of you can make demands. There's a lot more of us than there are of you.”

“Shoot 'em!” someone called from the crowd. “Shoot the savages!”

The Icori man remained unfazed and never looked away from Warren. “I'd hoped we wouldn't need shows of force to open a dialogue on protecting innocents. I'd think that's what civilized men do.”

“Civilized,” sneered Elias. “Like you're ones to talk.”

“This civilized man is going to give you the chance to leave with your lives.” Warren's words suggested generosity, but his tone was pure ice. “Not far ahead is a northward trail that cuts through the corner of Denham and leads over to the western territories. I'm sure
you know it. I'm sure it's what you took to get here. Turn around right now and go back. If you move fast enough, you should be out of Denham by sunset. I'm going to leave a group of men to guard that trail's intersection and scout it out in the morning. If there's any sign that you are still in our lands, you will die.”

“Shoot 'em anyway!” someone yelled.

The Icori murmured something to his companion. The bearded man scowled and answered back in their own language. The blond man turned back to Warren. “We will take our conversation elsewhere. Thank you for your time.”

The Icori turned around on their horses, and I held my breath as several men held up their guns and aimed at the Icoris' backs. Warren noticed this too and held up a hand of warding. The Icori horses quickly moved from a walk to a gallop and were soon out of range.

The Icori encounter was all anyone could talk about for the rest of the day. Opinions were understandably mixed. Plenty were in the “shoot 'em” camp. Others thought Warren's act of compassion only showed what a noble spirit he had.

“It was all a bluff,” an older man told Cedric and me at dinner that night. He paused to turn his head and spit. “He had no other choice. If he'd killed him, there's always the chance of triggering another war. No one knows how touchy the Icori are these days. And that whole nonsense about men guarding the trail is . . . well, nonsense. Icori don't need trails. If they want to slip away and melt into the woods, they can.”

I looked across the heads of the other settlers, off to where Warren sat on the opposite side of camp. He had a bigger group of admirers than usual, all lauding him on his masterful act of diplomacy. I'd thought it was well done myself until I heard our companion's commentary.

“The Icori were much more composed than I expected,” I remarked. “I'd be a lot more hostile if I'd been forced from my land.”

“Twice,” the old man reminded us. “Don't forget the heroes
who threw them out of Osfrid in the first place. Good King Wilfrid. Suttingham. Bentley. Rothford.”

I tried not to wince at hearing my ancestor's name. The settlement of Osfrid had taken place so long ago that it was easy sometimes to forget that the savages Rupert had fought there were the ancestors of those who'd fled across the sea and made new lives for themselves in these lands. Or tried to, at least.

“This place is so vast,” I told Cedric later. “Adoria's a hundred times the size of Osfrid. Shouldn't there be enough room for all of us this time?”

He gazed around us. Nightfall was upon us, but we could still make out the enormous trees as they reached up to the stars. “Greedy men never have enough room. I don't know what'll happen to the Icori—or this land. Osfrid was once this wild too, and now it's clear-cut and parceled.” He looked back down and slipped his arm around me. I caught the scent of his vetiver, reassuring me not all civilization was lost. “One thing I do know is that they've increased nighttime watches. You and I are going to have to go separate ways tonight.”

“Are you sure?” But even as I spoke, I knew he was right. I could already see patrols assembling. “I won't sleep nearly as well.”

“I'll actually sleep better,” he muttered.

“You don't like sleeping by me?”

“I like sleeping by you too much. I spend half the night thinking about—”

“Hey,” I warned. “There are children nearby.”

Cedric gave me a look of mock chastisement. “What I was
going
to say is that I spend half the night thinking about when we're getting married. The places your mind goes. Someone should have sent you to finishing school.”

“Technically,
you
sent me to finishing school. So you've got no one to blame if you want me to behave differently.”

He drew me in for a kiss. “Now why would I ever want that?”

So there was no more shared sleep between us for the remainder
of the trip. I missed it—achingly so—but I kept reminding myself this was all just another step along the path to our future. We would endure.

“You and your young man didn't have a fight, did you?” Mistress Marshall asked me one day. We were both riding in the wagon, and I was wondering if I should be concerned that I no longer noticed the rattling.

“Why do you think that?”

She gave me a knowing look. “Just noticed you've been sleeping by our wagon again these last few days.”

I felt a flush sweep over me. “Mistress Marshall—it's not—it's not anything like that. Nothing happened. We were just sleeping together. I mean, like, actually sleeping. Then we decided it'd be best to stop after the watches increased.”

“Very sensible of you,” she said. I couldn't tell if she really believed me.

“I mean it,” I insisted. “We've behaved—that is, well, exactly as we should. And we'll keep doing that.”