Home > The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court #1)(43)

The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court #1)(43)
Author: Richelle Mead

I smiled at the thought, knowing she was right. “Her rivals are there, aren’t they? The girls who tied her?”

Mira nodded. “Maybe this was all a ruse so that she could spy on the competition.”

“I wish it was.” There was always an ache in my chest when I studied the other ship. It was amazing how much I missed Tamsin’s calculating ways, and the rift between us seemed to overshadow any pleasure I might have taken from this journey.

Mira, brave as ever, walked right up to the railing and peered down at the water. It made me shiver. I had a constant fear of her being pulled over the edge. Averting my eyes from her, I studied the far reaches of the bluish-gray sea. Not unlike Cedric’s eyes, I supposed.

“So beautiful,” I murmured.

“Your first voyage?”

I turned and saw the man who’d been watching me that first day, the one who either needed to shave or just grow a proper beard. In fact, the more I studied him, the more I just wanted to . . . well, neaten him up. His rumpled clothing was respectable enough but, as Cedric had pointed out, hardly in the class of someone who could afford us.

“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling. “We’re not supposed to talk without a formal introduction, right?”

“Well, these aren’t very formal settings,” I said as Mira came to stand beside me again. “I’m Adelaide Bailey, and this is Mira Viana.”

“Grant Elliott,” he replied. “I’d take my hat off if I had one, but I learned long ago that it’s not even worth wearing one out in this wind.”

“You’ve been to Adoria before?” Mira asked.

“Last year. I have a stake in a store that outfits people for exploration and wilderness survival. My partner ran it over the winter, and now I’m coming back.”

Mira’s eyes lit up. “Have you done much exploring yourself, Mister Elliott?”

“Here and there,” he replied, turning from her and focusing back on me. “Nothing you’d find interesting. Now, help me understand how your organization works. You’re ranked by gemstone, right? And you’re the top one?”

“The diamond,” I affirmed. “And Mira’s a garnet.”

“So, that means you’ll get to go to all sorts of—”

“There you are.” Cedric strolled up to us, smiling when he saw Grant. “Looks like the three of you have already met. Mister Elliott is one of the men who shares a cabin with me. Adelaide, I need to borrow you for a moment.” He nodded toward another group of our girls a short distance away. “Mira, will you be able to go back down below with them when they leave? I think they’re going soon.”

“Of course,” said Mira. “And perhaps Mister Elliott could tell me more about his business.”

Grant shook his head. “I’d love to, but I just remembered something I have to follow up on.”

He walked away, and Mira wandered over to the other girls. Cedric beckoned me to follow him, and I expected us to simply find some private part of the deck to talk. Instead, he went below, leading me through the ship’s narrow inner passages until we reached a cargo hold piled high with crates.

“What in the world are we doing here?” I asked as he shut the door behind us.

He waved me forward past several rows of crates and then gestured grandly. “Your art studio, madam.”

I peered into a narrow space shielded by a large stack of boxes and found a canvas and some paints.

“I smuggled them aboard and waited until I could find a place seldom visited,” he explained, clearly proud of his cunning.

I knelt down to look at the paints, spreading my skirts around me. I examined the pots one by one. “Oils.”

“Does that make a difference?” he asked.

“It affects what I can do. I can’t do a Florencio. His medium’s different.”

Cedric’s earlier pride faltered. “I didn’t know. Will you be able to do something?”

“Sure.” I ran through a mental list of various artists’ works I’d seen, including the types of pigments and canvases used. I had a pretty good memory for detail. The question would be choosing which style was within my skill set. “Thodoros,” I said at last. “A Myrikosi painter. I can do one of his. A lot of their trade goes through Sirminica, and with all the chaos there right now, a rogue painting being smuggled out wouldn’t be that extraordinary.”

“Can you do it in a little less than two months?”

I hesitated. “I suppose—especially if I can get a couple of hours each day.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” he said adamantly. “We’ll make this happen.”

When he simply stood there and watched me expectantly, I exclaimed, “What, right now?”

“Why not? We’re short on time.”

“I can’t just jump into a major work. Especially with you staring at me the whole time.”

He backed up—but not by much. “Well, I can’t leave you. I need to be around in case someone comes in.”

“Well, if they do, it’s not going to save us from being caught in art forgery,” I snapped.

“It’ll save you from some wandering sailor. Now. Is there anything else you need?”

“More space. More time. A ship that isn’t constantly swaying. And maybe something to eat that isn’t dried out and preserved. I’d kill for a honey cake.” Seeing his exasperated look, I said, “Hey, you try just jumping into reproducing one of the greatest artists out there. I want to help you, but I need to think this through.”

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