Home > The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court #1)(92)

The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court #1)(92)
Author: Richelle Mead

At last, Warren called for everyone’s attention. “It’s time,” he called, his voice ringing above the throng. “Time to claim our destiny!”

Settlers and well-wishers alike cheered, and even I couldn’t help getting caught up in the spirit of adventure. I hugged Tamsin and Mira goodbye and then climbed up into the back of the wagon. I was saving the split skirts for when we reached Hadisen. For the journey, I was in a calico dress that was as barebones as one could get. No chemise, no petticoats—just a simple lining underneath. If not for the floral print, it could have passed for one of the Grashond dresses.

My spot in the wagon was a cramped and narrow one between two bundled crates. The planks I had to sit on were dirty and worn, and trying to clean them only resulted in getting splinters. Five minutes into the ride, I learned that there was no shock absorption of any kind.

I leaned back against the wagon’s side, thinking of what we’d always called the “rose parlor” back in my family’s Osfro home. Elaborately designed rugs covering every inch of the floor. Velvet-covered wallpaper. One-of-a-kind paintings. Vases imported from the Xin lands far to the east. Chairs and sofas with padding so thick, you would sink into them. And of course, everything was meticulously cleaned on a daily basis by a flock of servants.

“What’s wrong?” asked one of the Marshall girls. Her name was Sarah.

I glanced over at Cedric riding that ridiculous horse. “Nothing. Just thinking I’ve come a long ways.”

Within an hour, we were out of the city’s limits, past the fort and its skeleton crew of soldiers. A few hours after that, we’d moved past all of Cape Triumph’s small outlying settlements. I’d thought the wilderness had a claim on that town, but I was wrong. The far reaches of Denham Colony looked as though no human had ever touched them. The towering trees that had stood like sentinels in Cape Triumph now formed a veritable army, side by side, at times making the rough road difficult to traverse. It was fascinating. Breathtaking. Terrifying. The real New World.

My starry-eyed enthusiasm didn’t last long. When we called a halt for the night, my legs nearly collapsed underneath me when I got out of the wagon. The constant shaking and close quarters had cramped my muscles, producing a soreness I would have expected only after running uphill for five hours. Dinner was dried biscuits and jerky, little better than the ship’s fare. Fires were built for heat and boiling water, and I was sent to gather wood from fallen branches. Mostly I seemed to gather splinters.

Cedric, like most of the younger men in the party, was kept busy with various jobs, so after a quick smile at dinnertime, he disappeared for the rest of the evening. When bedtime came, Mister and Mistress Marshall slept in the wagon while the rest of the kids and I made beds of blankets on the ground. The earth below me was hard and uneven. The blanket couldn’t keep me warm as night’s chill deepened, so I’d added my long leather coat. I was still cold. And I was pretty sure every mosquito in the colony had found me.

I tossed and turned, my frustration keeping me awake almost as much as the harsh conditions did. I found myself again thinking of my Osfro town house. This time, I was obsessed with memories of my bed. A mattress big enough for five people. Silk sheets scented with lavender. As many blankets as you needed on a cold night.

I didn’t realize right away that I was crying. When I did, I quickly got up before any of the children sleeping near me woke and noticed. Wrapping the thin blanket around me, I hurried away from the wagon, slipping through groups of other sleeping settlers. A few still sat by fires, dicing and telling stories, but they paid little attention to me. I moved as far to the camp’s edge as I dared, enough to give me privacy but not venture into the wild unknown.

There, I sat down miserably and buried my face in my hands, trying to keep my sobs as quiet as possible. I couldn’t stand the thought of my weakness getting back to Warren. I had this horrible image of him looking down at me with a too-kind expression, saying sympathetically: “You could have been my wife. You could have traveled in the padded carriage and slept in my tent.” I’d seen one of his men haul a mattress into it earlier.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I jumped to my feet. Cedric stood there, shadows playing over his startled face. He’d been busy with his own chores, and I hadn’t seen him all evening. “It is you. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I furiously wiped at my face. “What are you doing here?”

“I went over to the Marshall wagon hoping to steal you for a quick word. When you weren’t there, I started searching around.” He reached for my face, but I pulled back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Adelaide, I’m serious. What’s wrong?”

I threw up my hands. “Pick something, Cedric! Using my skirt as a napkin at dinner tonight. No bathrooms. I keep swallowing gnats. And the smell! I get that bathing will be limited on this trip, but didn’t any of them do it before we left? It’s only been one day.”

“You knew this wouldn’t be easy,” he said quietly. “Do you regret it? Do you regret . . .”

“Us?” I finished. “No. Not for an instant. And that leads to the worst part of all: hating myself for feeling this way. I hate listening to myself whine. I hate that I’m too weak to put our love above these conditions.”

“No one said you had to love it out here.”

“You do. I saw your face once we were truly clear of the Cape Triumph settlements. This is some kind of spiritual experience for you.”

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