Spirit's Oath (7 page)

“Why you—” Miranda was unable to finish before the guards moved in. They surrounded her in a ring of muscle, and for several moments, Miranda contemplated letting Durn have his way with them. But Hapter was technically right. She wasn’t acting on the Court’s behalf, which meant her right to use her spirits against others was severely limited, especially considering he was her fiancé. If she wasn’t careful, this could reflect very badly on the Court, and that was a chance she wasn’t willing to take out of temper. So she relaxed and let the guards take her, muttering insults at Hapter the whole way. Behind her, the ghosthound’s growl was loud enough to rattle the stone walls, but he didn’t say another word as the guards escorted her to the house.

Hapter made good on his threat. The room they put her in was right beside his in the interior of the house. It was very nice, but it was clearly a prison with no windows, no fireplace, and a door solid enough to be a vault. She was deposited there without fanfare and left alone all night. When the door finally opened the next morning, Miranda almost wished Hapter had left her to rot.

“Well,” Alma said, shuffling past the guards with a small breakfast tray. “You finally went and did it, didn’t you? Just when I thought there was no possible way you could embarrass me further, you found one. I only wish I could say I was surprised.” She set the tray down on the washstand with a huff. “Your father can’t even bear to hear your name spoken, you know.”

“I don’t really care what Father can or cannot bear,” Miranda said. “I’m the one locked up.”

“And whose fault is that?” Alma snapped. “I get you a rich husband and all you can do is put on like it’s the worst thing in the world. And then, to escape out the window like a-a…” She began to sputter. “Like a
thief
in the night. Oh, it is not to be borne, Miranda. I’m just glad the wedding’s today. You’ll be married before Hapter can come to his senses.”

“Considering how far he seems to be from his senses, he’s got a long trip ahead of him,” Miranda said.

Alma threw up her hands and marched back to the door. “The maids will be bringing in your dress shortly. I’ll be back to help with your hair, not that you deserve it. The wedding is at midday, so I suggest you take the time to think about the mountain of blessings you’ve decided you’re too good for.”

She gave her daughter a final sniff and stomped out, slamming the heavy door behind her with enough force to rock the water in the washbowl. Miranda just shook her head and walked over to the breakfast tray, devouring what her mother had brought with quiet efficiency. It wasn’t much, just some bread and fruit, and Miranda sighed in disappointment as she picked up the last crumbs with her finger. She needed energy for the plan she’d spent all night on. It had a decent chance of success, but it was going to take a lot out of her. Fortunately, anger more than made up for the small breakfast, and by the time the maids came in with her dress, Miranda was ready.

She stood passively as they dressed her, letting them move her arms like a doll, but her mind wasn’t on her body. She was deep inside herself, sunk nearly to the bottom of the well of her soul. Durn’s solid spirit was with her, the thread of his connection wrapped around her hands like twine as she fed power into him until they were both humming with energy. After the first hour, it was so strong that even the spirit-deaf maids seemed to feel it, but her mother, who’d come as promised to yank Miranda’s hair into an elaborate pile of curls, was completely oblivious. Her running commentary went on without a hitch as Miranda’s power grew, doubling and redoubling. Had Durn’s ring not been hidden on Eril’s chain beneath her dress, it would have lit up the whole room. The maids had already fled without knowing why or what the terrible prickly feeling was, and Miranda was glad to see them go. Fewer people meant fewer chances of things going sour.

Thirty minutes before the wedding, Alma finally left with dire warnings about what would happen if Miranda moved so much as one inch out of place before they came to bring her down. When the guards locked the door behind her, Miranda closed her eyes and plunged herself completely into the last of her preparations. By this point, the power was so large it took all of her attention to hold it in, which was why she didn’t know Hapter was there until he took her hand.

Miranda caught the power with great effort, holding it still as she looked down to see Hapter slipping the tiny opal engagement ring back onto her pinkie.

“Your mother found it in the pocket of your dress,” he said. “It’s not very considerate to leave other people’s gifts lying around.”

Miranda had a lot she’d like to say to that, but she didn’t trust herself to speak with so much power in the air. Instead, she let her hate of him shine through her eyes as he gently took her chin, turning her head side to side.

“You are a pretty thing,” he said at last, smiling. “I think I’ll enjoy bringing you around.”

She bared her teeth just a little, and Hapter’s smile grew wider. He dropped her chin and took her hand again, raising it to his lips. “See you downstairs, wife,” he said, winking at her before he slipped out the door. Miranda watched him go, scrubbing her hand on her dress until all feel of his lips was gone.

When her mother came in ten minutes later to bring her down, Miranda was ready.

“Well,” Alma said, radiant in her green gown. “I see you’re still dressed and the room is still in one piece. Have you decided to make the best of things, then, dear?”

Miranda just smiled, and then, without warning, she opened her soul. All the power she’d been building poured out of her, and her mother’s smile faded as the house began to rock like a ship at sea. All around the room, things fell off the walls. The washstand toppled over, spilling water everywhere, and cracks sprouted along the ceiling as the mansion’s foundation groaned. But the foundation’s complaints were soon drowned out by the cracking sound coming from the wall behind them. The plaster wall bulged and groaned, and then broke completely as an enormous stone hand punched through, sending a bright shaft of daylight into the dreary room.

“Ready, mistress?” Durn’s voice boomed from everywhere.

“Past ready,” Miranda said, snatching the marriage crown out of her hair and throwing it at her shocked mother. The crown bouncing off her seemed to wake Alma from her shock, because her face went scarlet as her voice returned.

“Miranda!” she shouted. “What do you think you are doing?”

“What I should have done days ago,” Miranda said, lifting her skirts as she vaulted onto Durn’s outstretched hand. “The right thing.”

She waved one last time, and then Durn yanked her out of the house into the glorious sunshine. Miranda took a deep breath of freedom and pointed across the garden at the zoo. Durn obliged. The great stone hand, which had sprouted from the ground outside her room like a weed, grew farther still, reaching across the garden to crash through the roof of the zoo building. Miranda jumped down when they reached the floor, panting from the effort. This much power was far beyond Durn’s usual ability, and they were quickly nearing their limit, but there was one last thing she had to do. As planned, they had landed at the entrance to the ghosthound’s room. Gathering the last of their strength, Miranda marched across the room to the cage. Durn’s hand followed, and when Miranda gestured, he reached out and grabbed the heavy bars, wrenching them aside.

Through it all, the ghosthound had sat perfectly still. Miranda walked through the large hole as the last of Durn’s strength faded and the stone spirit fell back into her, collapsing with a happy sigh back into his ring.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” the hound asked as Miranda stopped just inside his cage. “I was wondering what all that power was. I see you’re a clever sort, Spiritualist. But your power is spent. Now is not the time to stand between me and my freedom.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Miranda said, planting her feet firmly to show she was serious and to keep herself from falling over as Durn’s exhaustion hit her. “I’ve come to make you an offer.”

The ghosthound flicked his tail. “An offer?”

“Yes,” Miranda said. “You told me you could not go home because you had been dishonored, that your pack would not have you, and that this was why you were willing to die. You felt you had nothing left. I say it doesn’t have to be that way.” She held out her hand, palm up, directly in front of the hound’s nose. “I offer a pledge,” she said. “Power for service, strength for obedience, and my own soul to replace the pack you lost. I swear mutual protection, my honor for yours. Come with me, and together we will do things that will make Hapter nothing but an insignificant memory.”

The ghosthound stared at her, his orange eyes unreadable, but Miranda could feel his hot breaths quicken on her palm. “You would offer yourself as my pack?” he said. “What would I do, Spiritualist? Your oath has no power over me. I have a body; I can’t leave it and live through your soul like the rock or the wind or the moss you’ve already tied to you. You cannot bind me.”

“I can’t,” Miranda admitted. “But that’s not what matters. My oath is more than magic, ghosthound. It is a promise between you and me.” She reached up, pulling off the tiny ring Hapter had slid on her finger. “This will be your ring, and though it holds no spirit, it will be dear to me as any other I take. I need no bond to make me honor my promises or give you my strength. From this moment forward, I will guard you as I guard myself. I swear by my Court and my soul that I will honor, defend, and support you. I will never abandon you, never betray you, and all I ask in return is that you swear in kind and agree to abide by my judgment.”

Miranda smiled then, reaching up to touch the ghosthound’s nose. It was warm and dry under her fingers, quivering as he took in her scent. “Let me be your Spiritualist,” she whispered. “Come with me, help me make a better world where things like what happened to you and me can’t happen anymore. A world where no abuse is tolerated, where no soul is forced against its will. Let that good work be your honor, ghosthound, and I promise I will take the life you were so willing to throw away and cherish it as I do my own.”

The hound stared at her a long time, and then he snorted against her hand. “And our loss will hurt Hapter, do you think?”

Miranda grinned. “It will kill him.”

The hound’s muzzle lifted in a toothy grin. “What’s your name, Spiritualist?”

“Miranda Lyonette,” Miranda said.

The ghosthound grinned wider still. “I’m Gin, and I accept your offer.”

“Good,” Miranda said. “Because we have a wedding to crash.”

The dog laughed at that, showing all his sharp, sharp teeth, and then he lay down so swiftly Miranda jumped.

“Get on, then,” he said. “Unless you’re scared?”

“What’s there for me to be scared of?” Miranda said, struggling up onto the spot between his shoulders. “We’re a team now, remember?”

Gin’s answer was to nudge her roughly into place with his nose, and then he jumped up so fast Miranda nearly snapped her neck. She couldn’t help a squeal as they flew through the hole Durn had left in the roof. She’d never expected a ghosthound to be able to jump like that, but Gin cleared the leap effortlessly, running along the roof before jumping into the garden. The wedding was spread across the front lawn, a great sea of colored tents and banquet tables. Hapter was standing at the front, talking hurriedly to a group of guards. He stopped the second Miranda and Gin came into view, his face going scarlet as he opened his mouth to shout.

He never got the chance. Gin moved faster than the wind. He jumped up on the longest banquet table, cracking it beneath his weight before leaping again to land right in the middle of Hapter’s guards. They scattered like thrown sticks, leaving Gin nose-to-nose with Hapter himself, who was now white as the tablecloths. From her perch on his back, Miranda leaned down between the ghosthound’s ears, resting her elbows on the dog’s head as she met Hapter’s terrified face with a wide smile.

“I told you,” she said. “I’m not the sort of woman you push around. Have a nice wedding.”

Gin growled as she finished, slamming his nose into Hapter’s chest so hard the man fell. For a moment, Miranda was afraid Gin would forget that killing Hapter wasn’t part of the deal, but the dog turned away and began running full tilt down the drive.

“Thank you for not killing him,” Miranda said.

Gin gave a loud snort that could have meant anything. “So, where to now?”

“Home,” Miranda said, pointing across the fields toward Zarin.

Gin picked up the pace, shooting across the fields so fast Miranda had to cling to his fur for dear life. After a few minutes, though, she got the hang of it. Finger by finger, she released her death grip, and then she lifted her hands out to her sides, throwing back her head with a laugh as Gin flew over the green hills toward the white towers of Zarin rising in the distance.

One month later

“How many pigs can you eat?” Miranda said, leaning on the fence that was the only thing separating the world at large from the slaughter currently going down in the Spirit Court’s butcher yard.

“I don’t know,” Gin said, eyeing the next squealing pig in the paddock. “How many do you have?”

Miranda made a disgusted face and turned to Rector Banage, who was dressed for traveling and leaning patiently on the fence beside her. “I’m so sorry, Master Banage,” she said. “We’ll get on the road as soon as my glutton of a dog is full.”

“A few more minutes won’t hurt,” Banage said. “We’re just going to confirm the death of an Enslaver and the freeing of his spirits, not to chase him down. If there weren’t so many spirits involved, I’d have left it to the local Tower Keeper.”

“He won’t be long,” Miranda promised, glaring at Gin. “Will he?”

Gin’s answer was a low growl as he started on his next pig.

Miranda shuddered and turned away. “I will never get used to that.”

“The price of keeping a predator,” Banage said sagely, glancing up. “I wonder what he wants?”