“It’ll make you look more Osfridian for this first event, which isn’t a bad thing,” added Miss Bradley. “We want to be part of this society, obviously, but it’s important you represent the Old World too—which is, of course, the pinnacle of fashion and culture.”
So part of my hair was pulled up in the Adorian way, with the rest of it cascading in long curls in the Osfridian way. Strands of crystals had been woven into my hair, and everywhere I turned, I sparkled.
Mira’s dress, also of silk, was a deep bloodred with a lower neckline than mine. The skirt opened in the front, revealing a ruffled black petticoat, a highly unusual color choice that had made Mistress Culpepper raise an eyebrow. The seamstresses in Osfrid had insisted it would look striking with the rest of the outfit—and they were right. Multifaceted beads of sparkling jet trimmed her neckline and sleeves, rather than the usual lace. Her hair, worn down, was adorned with a matching black crystal band from which hung strands of deep red hair that mingled seamlessly with her natural black. With Mira’s rank unexpectedly moved up, the Glittering Court’s heads were trying to pass her off as a ruby, rather than a garnet, now.
Mira came to stand with me in the mirror and smoothed the red locks with a frown. “Do you think these are real? Am I wearing some other woman’s hair?”
“Does it matter when you look so stunning?” I asked.
Mira’s expression told me it did matter, but she didn’t pursue the topic. “Good luck,” she said. “Not that you’ll need it. You’ve already got an offer.”
“You’ll have plenty too,” I assured her, my mind wandering to Warren. I’d been so uncertain that first day, wondering if I should have taken the deal. Now, I’d had more time to think, and I was glad Cedric had intervened. I wanted my options, even if it meant I might have sacrificed an unheard-of payment.
A call outside the door told us it was time to go. We squeezed each other’s hands—no hugs, as that might wrinkle the dresses—and hurried to join the others. They too were a bright, sparkling array of jewels, some with natural hair like me and others with colored wigs. Clara wore a sunflower-yellow one that I thought looked kind of awful. Mistress Culpepper and Miss Bradley gave us one more inspection.
“Remember,” said Miss Bradley. “Keep powdering—don’t let your makeup run or turn greasy.”
“And,” added Mistress Culpepper sharply, “behave pristinely the entire night. I do not expect to see any of you frequenting the wine or punch.”
Extra servants, guards, and carriages had been hired for this trip. We were put two to a coach in order to leave enough room for our dresses. Temporary maids came along in another carriage, ready to help any of us who need primping at the ball. Still another carriage was loaded with extra dresses, wigs, and jewelry, should an emergency occur. I didn’t see the Thorns but knew they would be coming in their own carriage.
It being early evening, we could still see out the windows, and both Mira and I studied our surroundings eagerly. We passed other houses, none so big as ours, and I was again struck by the newness and jumbled layout. In Osfrid, even in a rural area like this with lots of land, each home’s plot would be precisely laid out with clear boundaries, often with small stone walls to separate them. Everything would be claimed. Here, it was as though people had built at random and didn’t seem to care about ownership. And of course, there were trees. Always trees.
They thinned out a little as we reached the heart of Cape Triumph, and here, I found Mira was right. Cobblestones covered the narrow roads, and the buildings were higher, with a greater sense of permanence. Shops of all kinds lined the streets, as well as places of entertainment—some looking more reputable than others. With evening approaching, brightly colored lanterns lit up the doorways. Groups of people moved through the street, displaying a diverse variety of backgrounds as they came home from work or sought evening entertainment. Most were dressed humbly or showed signs of the middle class. But obviously affluent citizens walked right among them with no indication there was anything unusual. And rich or poor, many seemed to make their own fashion choices, defying both Adorian and Osfridian customs. The populace was exotic and lively and impossible to look away from. In keeping with Adorian demographics, the majority of those I saw were men.
“I would love to get out and explore this,” said Mira.
“I don’t think Mistress Culpepper would approve.” The streets didn’t look unsafe, exactly, but it was certainly no place any of us would be allowed to go alone—especially after some of the behavior I’d observed at the docks. I pointed toward a man standing on a corner, wearing a deep green uniform. “Hey, a soldier. That’s the first I’ve seen. I’d think there’d be more.”
Mira followed my gaze. “They’re around. But not as many as there used to be, now that most outside threats are gone.”
“Then who keeps order inside? The militia?” I asked. Cape Triumph had no official city guard as Osfro did. The military was usually charged with primary law enforcement in the colonies, with the rest delegated to volunteer and locally organized groups.
“Them. Other agents of the crown. Pirates.”
“Aren’t pirates, by definition, breaking the law?”
“Not always. Haven’t you heard how some of them walk the streets and help people in danger?” Mira’s face was alight, caught up in the heroic drama she loved.
“No. When did you hear that?”