Spirit Binder

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  “Yesterday!”

  “Yes, darling. I am just trying to protect you.”

  “But prophecies never change. Why would you force him to be read so many times? You know how invasive it is!”

  Rhea turned to look at her, and Theo was startled to see so much of herself reflected in her mother’s face; she’d always thought she looked more like a female version of her father, who’d been killed when she was very young.

  “Prophecy can come in layers.”

  “Layers?”

  “Yes, as you age, as you experience life.”

  “Are you saying my prophecy has changed?”

  “No, darling. It was Hugh’s that … concerned me. It is his prophecy that ties him to you.”

  “But not mine to him?”

  “They are … it seems the Chancellor believes that one cannot exist without the other, though they are different.”

  “But you’ve spent some time trying to figure out how to interpret them separately.”

  “Yes, but this is not common knowledge.”

  “I imagine I am the only one who knows.”

  “And Jamin, naturally.” Jamin was Peony’s father, and her mother’s chief counselor. He was a sensitive, though not a prophecy reader, who often oversaw the Rite of Passage ceremony for the youth of the castle.

  Her mother stood up, and Theo realized the conversation had ended without any real answers.

  “Wait!”

  “I’m tired. So tired, darling. I just wanted to see that you were okay.” Her mother continued toward the door.

  “Mom, please.” That, interestingly, stopped Rhea, and she turned back with her hand resting lightly on the door handle. “Why is it that you cannot track me now, when I could never hide from you before?”

  “You’ve grown more powerful. Your shielding is strong. I can feel you within the castle, unquestionably. Your magic is everywhere. We’ll have to talk about that when you are feeling better.” Her mother eyed the carpet, which had found Theo the moment she’d reentered the castle. “But I cannot pinpoint you now.”

  “But Hugh can?”

  “You’ll have to discuss that with him.” Another not-so-subtle way of reminding her that everyone’s magic was his or her own business. Her mother opened the door and stepped through. The guards shifted to accommodate her, but did not look at Rhea or into the room. They were well-trained, oddly enough, by her Uncle Dougal, though they then swore an oath to her mother.

  “Mom? The tracking device the … would-be assassins carried?”

  “I know,” her mother whispered from the hall without looking at her.

  “Such a thing could only work if —”

  “Powered by something of yours, a piece of clothing, hair —”

  “Blood.” Her mother’s head shot up to meet Theo’s eye. Rhea shook her head, and then looked pointedly at the guards. Blood magic was illegal in Cascadia, and had been for the entirety of Rhea’s reign as Apex. Theo had heard of some wielders adhering to the old ways and still using their own blood to fortify their weapons. In such cases, the captain of the guard usually chose to look the other way. But healers and spellcasters were severely punished for mixing blood into their spells, no matter the intention. “You think someone in the castle? Close enough to get a sample?”

  “They wouldn’t have needed to be that close; you were rather generous when you first arrived.” Her mother looked pointedly, and distrustfully, at the magic carpet.

  “Iggy wouldn’t betray me.”

  “You’ve named the carpet?” Even tired, her mother could raise a rather intimidating brow.

  Theo deflected her mother’s disapproval by answering, “In the tunnel —”

  “It seems the tunnel was exceedingly well-cleaned,” Rhea answered. “It could also have been collected from before you returned. I could have been mistaken in my assessment of who held you, perhaps. Except …”

  “Except what?”

  “Except the device was very accurate. I sense … actually Jamin senses, that your magic might be a bit different since you woke.”

  “Different how?”

  “How am I to know, darling? It’s your magic. Your spirit is damaged, undoubtedly. And I thought it might have made a difference to the accuracy of such a … sophisticated … charm.”

  “I was unaware that the creation of such was now common place.”

  “You know such transmutation is highly unusual, Theodora,” Rhea sighed, and lifted a hand as if to rub her temple, but then thought better of it. “Your blood, if indeed it was used, transformed the rock into something that almost seems to have its own will.”

  “Then the Preacher is not someone to be taken lightly.”

  “Is that what you think of me? That I wasn’t able to keep you safe before, so now I shall surely fail you again?”

  “Hugh said —”

  “Why would I put any credence into drunken tales overheard in a public house when I didn’t even know where you were? How was I to protect you then? Some days I feared … I feared I’d lost you, that you may even be dead, though I felt like I would have known.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “None of this is anything you need to be sorry or worried about. I will take care of it all. I have already tasked Jamin such.”

  Her mother turned away and she let her go, though she did wonder why she hadn’t chosen to use the assassin’s tracking device, rather than Hugh, to find her this evening.

  “It was spelled to the user,” her mother answered. “It doesn’t work for me. Yet.” So much for respecting each other’s thoughts. “Plus it is always better to keep Hugh where I can see him, as I am certain you will discover.”

  Hmmm, that wasn’t annoyingly intriguing at all …

  “And darling, If you don’t want me eavesdropping then don’t project so loudly.”

  “Goodnight, Mom.”

  “Goodnight, Theodora.”

  ∞

  Theo snuck down to the dungeons. Yes, she’d been heading to bed, but she’d taken a wrong turn or two, deliberately, and found herself in the hallway leading to the prisoner cells. The carpet followed her, and she could almost feel the chastising energy radiating off of it; though perhaps she was projecting. What did she hope to accomplish — other than scaring herself further — by seeing her two would-be assassins?

  The guards allowed her to pass without commenting, or even looking at her too closely but, honestly, that was kind of the deal around here; the not-looking-directly-at-her. Familiarity doesn’t beget worship, according to her mother. The guards did have a bit of an issue with the carpet. It wasn’t as sly as it thought.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d find. Gibbering messes of humanity perhaps, but certainly not two men, sleeping what seemed to be peaceful, dreamless slumbers.

  Their cells weren’t even locked.

  She hovered in the hall between the two cells for a moment, unsure why she’d even come and then she settled and opened her mind, just a little bit.

  Hugh immediately registered, as he had from the moment he’d entered the castle, but it seemed he’d retreated to the stables. Theo was careful not to think of or touch on him too long in case he felt her presence in his mind. He’d made it very clear he considered her an obligation, and why wouldn’t he?

  She shifted her focus to the two men sleeping in front of her, but didn’t glean much from them other than their names; Sammy, a confirmation of what she already knew, and the traitor-marked was Ambrose. What she could clearly see was the damage her mother had inflicted. It appeared as dark slashes across veins of light that ran throughout each man’s very being. It was mostly concentrated in the area of their brains. Though some of these mental scars looked older, more ridged than others, so perhaps her mother wasn’t the only mage who’d ravaged the men’s minds.

  Looking at Sammy and Ambrose’s energy made Theo wonder if her own brain was slashed up with dark ridges impeding t
he light ones. Then she wondered if she could somehow show such things to Peony and help the healer to fade those scars as well.

  Ambrose shifted in his sleep, but if he was dreaming, or even capable of dreaming anymore, she couldn’t see.

  She left the men before she gave in to the urge to wake them to judge the ramifications of the damage, and returned to the guards.

  “Were the prisoners on their feet when they were brought in?”

  “My lady?” The shorter of the two, whose thoughts indicated his name was Davin, spat at her in his surprise at being spoken to. Thankfully, he raised a hand to his mouth to catch the bulk of the spit before it rained on her.

  The second guard, the one she should have addressed, as she could now see by his stripes that he ranked higher, smacked the now choking Davin on the shoulder. “Eyes front!” Davin had indeed been staring at her, but it was the polite thing to do when being addressed. Unless the addresser was some sort of deity-on-earth according to her mother. Then it was rude.

  The second guard, a corporal, was better mentally shielded than Davin, and wore his rank as his mental identifier instead of his name. He answered her question. “No, my lady. They were hovered in, but seemed physically unharmed, if that is your concern.”

  “Well, they wouldn’t be physically harmed, would they?”

  “No, my lady.” The Corporal had the decency to sound chagrined.

  “Will they be woken?”

  “Yes, my lady. At sunrise for breakfast, and then exercise, if they choose.”

  “Very well. I’ll check on them then.”

  “My lady?”

  “None of your concern, Corporal.”

  “Yes, my lady.” He’d met her eyes momentarily when he was startled, but he quickly dropped them.

  “Thank you.”

  “Just doing our duty, my lady.”

  “Yes. There is a lot of that going around.”

  As she turned to head off to bed, Theo beckoned to the carpet, which, currently sulking in the corner, pretended to ignore her. Though she was quite mentally exhausted, she realized the guards might be able to provide some details relevant to her kidnapping and where she’d been for the last ten years.

  “You were trained by my uncle Dougal before you were assigned here, were you not?”

  “Yes, my lady,” the Corporal answered. “Not by him directly, nor in his Elite Guard, obviously, but he oversees all the guards. I was head of my class last year, and I specifically requested assignment to the Apex.” The corporal grinned, very pleased to be able to express his pleasure at getting his choice of assignment.

  “And you, Davin?” Davin started a bit, perhaps by her use of his name, and stumbled over his answer. “I … I … came in the fall, my lady. Very pleased to be here.”

  “Have either of you met me before?”

  “No … no, my lady. Not until you returned four days ago. We were assigned to your guard, but … ah …”

  “Then I slipped by you without you noticing and almost got myself killed?”

  “Um, yes, my lady.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  The corporal straightened uncomfortably at her apology. “We failed you, my lady, not the other way around.”

  Theo sighed, and let the matter drop. “When you were training in the Midlands, you never saw me there?”

  “No, my lady. Should … should we have?” The corporal seemed confused by her question, but answered readily enough. Davin nodded, vehemently, in agreement.

  “No, I guess not. Thank you for your time.” Could Dougal have kidnapped her and kept her segregated for ten years? How large was the training facility? Even if she’d only been among the Elite Guard, could Dougal really enforce such loyalty that no one spoke of her presence there? Perhaps he’d some how cloaked her identity? She was disappointed at the guards’ lack of information, but also aware that she should still try to be polite. “Will you work though till morning?”

  “No, my lady. We should be seeing our relief at midnight. One hour.”

  “Sleep well.”

  The Corporal’s face flushed with pleasure and Davin bowed his head as if in reverence. “Thank you, my lady. I am sure we will now.”

  ∞

  She wandered, not at all hurried, back to her rooms. The carpet pretend to not follow her, though it showed up in her room right before she slipped into bed, and she found it curled at her feet by morning.

  Her thoughts became heavy and muddled each step she took closer to sleep. She fretted about the missing ten years, her increase in power, and what her mother was hiding from her. She fretted about the ultimate fate of the men in the dungeon. But, mostly, she fretted about Hugh. She wondered if he was going to sleep in the stables, and why. She wondered if it was easier for him to not be in the castle, to not be near her. Why did he stay at Hollyburn, if she was such a bother? Why had he come at all? It wasn’t as if the betrothal was scheduled to be formalized in the near future …

  She really was having a difficult time remembering she wasn’t sixteen anymore.

  ∞

  She dreamt again.

  She realized where she was, and what she was dreaming, the moment after she felt the smooth surface of the gilded column underneath her hand. She looked around the darkened ballroom. It appeared now as it had earlier in the afternoon when she’d wandered through it; neglected and unused, covered in a pallor that had nothing to do with cleanliness and everything to do with lack of joy. A room like this should be continually filled with laughter and gaiety.

  Though, honestly, if the reason it looked like this was because her mother had mourned the absence of her daughter, then she didn’t mind the dolefulness at all.

  She glanced down to see she was wearing her clothing from today, so this wasn’t a memory dream as it had been before. The observation made her glance around to see if she’d been pulled here by a dreamwalker rather than her own dream state.

  The ballroom was empty, but something about it put her on edge. Some sense-memory that she couldn’t access had triggered when she wandered through here this afternoon, and remained with her even in her dream.

  The upsetting thing was that this memory loss seemed to predate the loss she was currently struggling through. She looked deep within the memory to trace the feeling, but came up with nothing.

  “Theo.”

  She turned to see Ren, if that was indeed his name, standing in the middle of the dance floor. Even in the low light, he looked completely out of place in light armor and sporting a sword, but, then again, he wasn’t really there at all. She had an inkling that he’d never be invited to one of her mother’s parties with all their tedious politics. She was, once again, stuck by how fiercely handsome he was, though there was nothing at all beautiful about him.

  “Ren?”

  “You remember!” He quickly closed the space between them. His smile transformed all the hard lines of his face, but it faltered when she took a few steps back at his approach.

  He dropped his hands. They’d been raised as if to clasp her, which was odd for two reasons: he couldn’t touch her in a dream, but, if he could, why he voluntarily touch her at all?

  “You look more like yourself.” He spoke as if he wanted to say so many things all at once but was restricting himself. “I hope that means you are well?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I … I’m … I have … We’re looking for you. Are you in the castle?”

  “At Hollyburn? Yes.” It was odd that he was asking, as surely that was common knowledge by now? That she’d returned?

  “Has she got you locked up? In the dungeon? There’s been no ransom demand.”

  “Why would there be?”

  He looked as confused and frustrated as she felt.

  “Theo. You are so … so … formal, and, and, coolly poised. Do you not know me at all?”

  “No. Though I think your name might be Ren.”

  �
�Yes. That’s good you remember that at least.” He grinned and she loathed to mention that she’d read the name, his name, from the dreamwalker, not that she’d remembered anything. But, then looking at him … maybe if she just took some time to look at him, she could remember … something about the sun and sand … the wind lifting her hair … she was holding something heavy in her left hand, which was odd because she was right handed … then the feeling dissipated.

  “We met on a beach?” she guessed.

  “No. Not on a beach.” His grin was gone again, and he ran an exasperated hand through his hair, again as if something was holding him back from speaking. “I have a feeling that there are many things at play here that I don’t yet understand.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “A least we have some common ground.”

  “Is that why you are here? Why the dreamwalker is using you to access my dreams? Because we have common ground?”

  Ren looked sorrowful for a moment, and didn’t seem to want to answer her. Then she realized he was listening to someone on his side of the dream, someone she couldn’t hear, though she’d been able to hear the dreamwalker speak before. It was as if this was a different person, one she couldn’t feel or see, though a presence was there, if she looked for it. It was just heavily shielded.

  Ren nodded and squared his shoulders as if gearing up to relate something that he didn’t completely want to say, or was worried about saying. And suddenly, after spending the entire day seeking answers, she was afraid. Afraid in a way she hadn’t even been on the cliffs, or when she’d woken in the tunnel underneath the castle. Ren was going to tell her things she didn’t want to know … not yet … not now, at least.

  “Theo? What is it? Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, but didn’t want to look into his concerned eyes, didn’t want to see the intimate way he tilted his body toward hers, didn’t want to know that she was supposed to know him. She was supposed to know him very well.

  “I’ll find you, Theo. We’ll fix this,” he whispered fervently, like he was worried someone might overhear. “Whatever is really going on. No matter the obstacle. I promise.”