Peony tittered away with both Davin and Georges now. Theo could hear them laughing and trading stories behind her, and she tried not to long for the ease that seemed to surround them. Hugh had kept pace with her since they’d left the farm. Ambrose brought up the rear.
Hugh interrupted her fretful and unhelpful thoughts. “Ten years is a long time. Enough time to fall in and out of love, long enough to become a completely different person.”
She really loathed that she didn’t have any idea whether or not he was taunting her. His tone was almost always even and cultured, and, for all its formal phrasing, casual.
“That doesn’t take more than ten seconds really, under the correct circumstances,” she replied.
“Really? I can’t imagine.”
“Falling in love?”
“Falling out, was what I was thinking, but we’ll go with your version if it makes you more comfortable.”
She had a distinct feeling that they were having separate conversations, though what his was about was a complete mystery. So, she decided she could be as obscure. “Love triumphs good and evil without discrimination.”
“Praise be,” he responded.
“It’s not my thought, just something said before.”
“And now you have said it. If it wasn’t true before, it is now. From your lips to my spirit.”
“You think we’re flirting!”
“Do I? Here I thought I was just making conversation … It is a pleasure to be allowed in your presence.”
There it was again, that sting in her heart, as if he’d stung her with a baby bee. She leaned toward him a little, which seemed to quickly dissolve the smug smile on his face, and as straightforward as she could, she said, “I don’t write prophecies. I don’t even interpret them. So be mad at fate or destiny or Spirit itself if you wish, but leave me out of it. You are only as tied as you want to be. You make your own choices.”
With that declaration, which came out more angry and hurt than she’d intended, she reined her horse and dropped back to ride alongside Ambrose.
“Praise be,” Hugh whispered to himself, as if she’d delivered some divine counsel. She wasn’t supposed to hear it, and maybe she hadn’t, not with her ears at least, but deeper still, in her core. It troubled her that he could speak there, because only truth should be heard in your inner self.
∞
The closer they got to the city, the more frequently they passed by farmers and livestock, craftsmen and carts, which considerably slowed their pace. Ambrose didn’t attempt to fill the remainder of the thirty-minute ride into the heart of the city with inane or barbed-filled conversation; in fact, he didn’t speak to her at all, which was perfectly fine by her.
Cracked slabs of concrete salvaged from the ruins of the Vanquished’s roads and highways soon replaced the hard packed dirt of the mountain road. Hugh glanced back at her, and mimed raising a hood over his head. She compiled begrudgingly, as she too had noticed that the traffic was coming to a standstill around her, and more and more people stopping to stare. With her hair covered, they were able to cross the bridge into the city without much gawking, though their fine horses and clothing still attracted some attention. Theo had always marveled at the Gateway Bridge when she’d been a child, and she didn’t think any less of it now. When her mother had chosen to reconnect the north shore and Hollyburn Mountain to the city, it had taken many spellcasters many months to raise and reinforce the broken steel from the ocean floor. Before Rhea’s reign, passage to and from the city had been made by ferry. The bridge encouraged more trade and bolstered the population of the entire NorthWest.
A grand park spread out between the bridge and the city. It was was a rehabilitation shelter for animals and birds displaced by the industrialization of the city and its immediate area. The concrete-tile of the bridge continued along a narrow road that cut through the park trees. Theo had spent many hours there as a child learning about different species, and feeding the ducks and turtles.
They left the park behind, and were soon surrounded by buildings rebuilt from the cement and steel of the Before, though now magic bound everything together. They had pictures and books, manuals of construction in the Before, but there was no need to mine materials from the earth to build their buildings and homes. They simply reused everything left behind, though their buildings did not scrape the sky as they once had.
The closer they came to the market area, which stretched several city blocks, the more people filled the streets. Passage slowed. Theo didn’t remember the population as so large before, and she felt pressed by their energy. Merchants called out descriptions of their wares. Couriers darted in and out of traffic. Restaurants and dress shops occupied every corner. These shops gave away to an open area where the local farmers and crafters set up their carts. The smell of roasting chicken and sweet pastries competed with that of livestock and fishmongers.
Peony, with Davin in tow, veered off into the market and quickly abandoned their horses to a hired stablehand. The healer waded into the crowd with her purse firmly clutched in hand. Davin dodged after Peony. It was a routine outing for them, and Theo found she ached a little over the natural familiarity in their actions. She too wanted to dive into a crowd without worry of consequences, or to buy salty buttered popcorn to share with a companion. She tamped down on thoughts that would be termed silly by her elders and turned away from the market.
Theo, following Hugh, continued onward to the First Spirit Church. Georges kept one hand on his sword and stayed at her side. Ambrose’s horse, which Ambrose made no attempt to lead, kept pace.
First Spirit was situated directly across the street from Second Spirit Church, but First Spirit had supposedly stood at this very spot in the Before, when the Vanquished still ruled the earth, before Spirit rose, and the religions were numerous. The stained glass windows were new; the originals couldn’t have survived the Rising, but the very stones that made up the walls had been salvaged from the Before and rebuilt. First Spirit held, as it did in each of its churches across Cascadia all the birth, death, tithe, and land registries in the county. Second Spirit Church was for ceremony and service. First Spirit collected and housed history. It was here that the church trained candidates who’d been selected by Spirit to carry the faith to the people.
Here, Theo had hoped to trace some family for Ambrose, but they had no immediate luck. The presiding Minister was out visiting some ill parishioners, and his Junior was rather reluctantly helpful. He was polite enough — they were unquestionably well-dressed and accompanied by a guard wearing the Apex’s insignia — but Hugh had not introduced himself or her, as was his right as a lord. The minister’s deference did not extend to Ambrose, and, though he promised to inform them if he discovered anything when the names and dates offered didn’t trigger his immediate memory, he obviously thoroughly disapproved of the traitor-mark Ambrose bore: a scar that this very church might have sentenced and inflicted.
She was momentarily tempted to draw her hood back. She wondered if the Junior would be more helpful if he knew who she was, but decided to let Hugh take the lead. She supposed that also was going to be his right once he and her mother locked her away in some gilded cage somewhere, maybe in this very church.
So, while the Junior Minister accepted Hugh’s coin and recorded as much information as they had about Ambrose’s family — Ambrose himself didn’t have much recollection — she wandered over to one of the candle-strewn offering tables. This one was dedicated To the lost spirit of unborn children and unwed mothers. There weren’t many candles lit here. Theo dutifully dropped a coin in the collection box and reached for a taper. She’d always lit a candle at this table when she was a child. There was one in every church. They’d attended worship in a set rotation back then. Her mother said sermon and then they stayed for the singing, an exultation of Spirit, because that was Theo’s favorite part of the service.
She’d always mourned the idea of unborn babies and their lo
st spirit, but now as she hovered her lit taper over an unlit candle, she wondered at the dedication. Unborn children and unwed mothers. The inference was suddenly obvious; even a threat, perhaps? Spirit was in everyone — everything — she could feel it pulsating around her at this moment, and not just from the magicals. True, Hugh radiated it so brightly she was surprised she wasn’t constantly blinded around him, but she also saw it in the Lackings, such as Ambrose, and the horses tethered outside, and the violets one of the horses had craned its neck to munch.
“There is no such thing as lost spirit,” she whispered, and touched her taper to light the candle.
It wasn’t her fault that every candle in the church chose that moment to flare.
It wasn’t her fault that the Junior Minister’s robe sleeve happened to be near enough a group of candles to catch on fire.
It wasn’t her fault that Hugh had to calm the Junior Minister, get Ambrose off his knees — he’d fallen into a worshipful pose in her direction — and explain away the candles blazing merrily throughout the church as a random magical flare.
She’d only spoken the truth.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Let’s stop by the public house before we pick up Peony.”
For a moment Hugh looked like he might have a fit of some sort, then he exhaled and started laughing. Ambrose was having trouble getting back on his horse, though his mount was standing patiently still tied to the hitching post outside the church.
“It doesn’t seem that funny, Hugh. I’ll keep my hood up.”
Hugh was now leaning against the Beast, and holding the left side of his ribs. He seemed unable to speak.
“You’ve heard rumblings about the Preacher there. It makes sense to stop on our way out of town.”
“No.”
“No?” She was a little thrown by his outright refusal to escort her.
“You just set the Junior Minister on fire.”
“Not intentionally.” Deliberately ignoring her, Hugh unhitched the Beast and swung up into his saddle. Then he reached over and helped Ambrose onto his horse. “So … you think you can punish me? For the candles? I am more than capable of going on my own.”
Hugh shared a grim look with Georges, who was already mounted by her side. “What are you going to do, Theo? When the patrons all stare at you, mouths open and minds closed? Are you willing to interrogate them?”
“You said they’ve spoken to you.”
“After a few meads and a bit of wine, maybe. But not dressed to escort the daughter of the Apex, and certainly not with a lady at my side.”
“He sent assassins, Hugh,” she cast her voice low, as a bit of a crowd was beginning to gather around them, though it was the horses that attracted most of the attention.
“I was there.”
“He forced my mother’s hand with Ambrose and —”
“She doesn’t need any convincing to protect you.” Hugh turned her horse with his own and started back toward the market. Georges flanked her other side. The crowd was larger than she’d initially thought, and they only parted reluctantly. “I, on the other hand, was foolish to agree to bring you into town without a larger guard. They gather to you like bees to honey.”
“Bees make honey, Hugh.” She pulled her hood further forward on her head, and cringed at the sight of small children dashing alongside, so dangerously close to the horses’ hooves. “Plus,” she cut off whatever Hugh was about to say, “What gives you the right to decide anything for me?”
“My birth,” Hugh spat. “My birth gives me the right.” And, without another word to her, he guided them to the market. She couldn’t figure out a counter to his statement, and indeed the crowd of people was beginning to make her second guess a trip to the pub. She found all their energy a little unsettling. As well, it felt like there was something dark underneath it all, some shadow she couldn’t quite read, so, instead of worrying, she attempted to block it out. Oddly enough, the press of the crowd eased a bit after she did so.
They headed back to the castle, though not before Hugh refused another request, this time to visit the technology museum. He actually blocked her from dismounting at the market. “I think you’ve caused enough trouble for one day,” he muttered. “Let’s not test our ability to keep you safe.” The guards seemed to agree without actually taking a stand against her. She thought about showing off exactly how much trouble she could cause, but decided, again, that Hugh was probably right, even if she had no intention of admitting it to him.
Peony, laden with packages of flowers and fabrics, had to borrow space in Theo’s saddle’s bags, so, for the entire journey back to the castle, she was surrounded by the aroma of chocolate mint, which, though it made a tasty tea, she was fairly sure didn’t contain any healing properties.
Less traffic shared the road back, most people — farmers and such — headed into the city early and spent the day. She was sorry that they hadn’t traced Ambrose’s family, but was pleased they at least had Sammy settled.
Hugh took point again, so it took him a few moments to notice that she’d veered off into the woods. The old growth was spaced far enough apart to allow a horse to pass. Brown needles softened the ground and dampened the horses’ hooves. Ambrose followed dutifully by her side, unquestioning of her sudden choice to leave the road.
Hugh was not so serene when he finally made it back to her side. Those few moments before had been almost peaceful … except for the sudden, gut-wrenching impulse to enter the forest in the first place. As she rode further into the forest, beckoned forward by a wary concern, she began to feel that something nearby was very wrong.
“Why, my lady, have we abruptly, and without warning or discussion, changed route?” Hugh, despite his clenched jaw, was rather attractive when riled up. Actually, she was only kidding herself, he was handsome, striking even, with his coloring so different from her own. His mother had been a princess from a far away land, wooed west by the Chancellor, and the promise of a better life. The Chancellor had been her mother’s ambassador —
“I asked you a question, my lady.” The delay on Hugh’s “my lady” was marked.
“I’m sorry, I got lost in my thoughts.”
“And here I thought you just enjoyed opposing me.”
“No, that would imply you have some sort of authority over me.”
“The authority to keep you safe.”
“I see. The woods are filled with attackers, are they? One would think I would be able to sense their presence.”
“For all I know, you’re leading us directly to some sort of threat out of curiosity. Also, you haven’t been so quick to sense danger in the past. Has she, Ambrose?”
“No, my lord.”
“Don’t take his side, Ambrose. He’s just playing with you. He likes to play games.”
Hugh’s horse reared, and, cursing, he struggled to bring it back under control. Horse and rider danced in a circle and her own mount shied away. Hugh seemed to be struggling to calm himself; funny that she couldn’t feel what looked to be strong emotions emanating from him. She’d hit some sort of major sore spot.
Hugh settled his horse. Then he pressed near enough to grab Theo’s reins from her and yank her horse closer. His eyes were flecked with gold. He was close enough that she could feel his warm breath buffet her cheek. “That’s calling the kettle black, my lady.”
“Release my reins.”
“Why are we cutting through the forest? By this route it will take hours to return to the castle. Did you sense a threat on the road?”
“Release my reins.”
“Your mother will worry.”
“Release my reins now!”
“Aren’t you going to make me?”
She’d thought about it. Thought about reaching into that stubborn, handsome head of his and giving him a nudge. It would be invasive and probably scare the piss out of him; that would teach him to question her, and yet she hesitated …
“Still scared, are you?” Hugh taunted. “It’s fine to play games with candles and carpets, but —”
“Hugh!” Peony shouted. “You’ve crossed a line, and your behavior is utterly inappropriate … on so many levels.” Peony’s voice dropped to a whisper, though the forest was quiet enough that the guards and Ambrose probably heard. “Lady Theodora hasn’t accepted your vow yet, and even then, you would have no right to hold or goad her … goad anyone into using their magic.”
Hugh dropped his eyes and the reins. Theo gathered them up. They sat in silence for a moment until the tension abated. The noise of the forest — birds, wind, and animals in the undergrowth — filled the quiet.
“The carpet and the candles were unintentional,” she whispered, feeling like she owed Hugh something. He was just as much a pawn of prophecy as she.
“I know.” He ran a weary hand over his face. “You don’t completely understand.”
“You don’t completely tell me.”
“True.”
“I don’t think to ask your permission.”
“It isn’t permission, it’s basic communication. We are here to protect you.”
“There is a woman, perhaps a hundred feet in that direction.” She cut Hugh off before another fight escalated. “She needs our help. The longer we wait the more she dies.” She looked at him and waited. He looked pained and then chagrined.
“I forget,” he started, and then had to search for the words to continue. ”I forget I don’t know what it is like to be in your head.”
“Nor I yours.”
He nodded his assent, and she urged her horse forward. She might not have known immediately why she’d suddenly veered off into the forest, but she could now feel the pain and terror of the woman, and she headed that way.
Spirit Binder Page 8
