The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court #1) - Richelle Mead Page 0,8

a chance to be on the arm of a wealthy, doting husband who’ll drape you in silks and jewels?”

“I don’t get to choose him,” she argued.

“That’s not entirely true. When you arrive in Adoria, you and the other girls will have a three-month period in which you’ll be presented to those eligible men who’ve shown interest in our jewels—that’s what my uncle calls the Glittering Court girls.” He turned his smile to its most dazzling, trying to reassure her. “You’ll love it there. The colonial men go crazy when we bring new girls. It’s a season of parties and other social engagements, and you’ll get a whole new wardrobe for it all—Adorian fashions are somewhat different from ours. If more than one man makes an offer for you, then you can choose the one you want.”

Once again, I found myself brimming with jealousy, but Ada still looked uncertain. No doubt she’d heard tales of danger and savagery about Adoria. And, in fairness, some weren’t unfounded. When settlers from Osfrid and other countries had landed in Adoria, there’d been terrible bloodshed between them and the Icori clans living there. Many of the Icori had been driven away, but we still heard stories of other tragedies: diseases, storms, and wild animals, to name a few.

But what were those things compared to the riches and greatness that Adoria offered? And wasn’t there danger everywhere? I wanted to shake some sense into her, to tell her she should take this opportunity and never look back. Surely there could be no greater adventure than this. But she’d never had a sense of adventure, never seen the promise of taking a chance on something she didn’t know. That was part of the reason I hadn’t picked her to come with me to Lionel’s household.

After much deliberation, she turned to me. “What do you think I should do, my lady?”

The question caught me unprepared, and suddenly, all I could think of was my grandmother’s words: You’ll have people making choices for you your entire life. Get used to it.

I felt myself softening. “You have to make your own choices—especially since you’ll be on your own once you leave my service.” I looked over at Cedric, and for the first time, I saw uneasiness on those striking features. He was afraid Ada was going to opt out. Did the Glittering Court have quotas to meet? Was he on the hook to come back with someone?

“Mister Thorn has made it all sound very lovely,” she replied. “But I kind of feel like some trinket being bought and sold.”

“Women always feel that way,” I said.

But in the end, Ada accepted Cedric’s offer anyway because, as she saw it, she had nowhere else to go. Over her shoulder I scanned the contract, which was mostly a more formal explanation of what Cedric had told us. When she signed, I did a double take.

“That’s your full name?” I asked. “Adelaide? Why don’t you go by that?”

She shrugged. “Too many letters. It took me years to learn to spell it.”

Cedric seemed to struggle to keep a straight face. I wondered if he was starting to question this choice and if Ada could really be made into part of his “new nobility.”

Contract in hand, he stood up and bowed to me. To her, he said, “I have other contracts to deliver this afternoon and some errands to run at the university. You can take the day to pack your things, and our carriage will come to retrieve you this evening and take you to your manor. My father and I will join you along the way.”

“Where is this manor?” I asked.

“I’m not sure which one she’ll be assigned to,” he admitted. “I’ll know by tonight. My uncle maintains four for the Glittering Court, with ten girls each. One is in Medfordshire. Two are in Donley, another in Fairhope.”

They were true country houses then, I noted, placing each location on a mental map. They were each at least half a day from where we were in Osfro.

He delivered a few more last-minute instructions before making motions to leave. I offered to walk him out, which was a bit unorthodox, and took him back toward the garden I’d been in earlier. “University. So you’re a student then, Mister Thorn.”

“Yes. You don’t sound surprised by that.”

“It’s in your manner. And your coat. Only a student would set his own fashion standards.”

He laughed. “I didn’t. It’s actually an Adorian fashion. I’ve got to look the part when I