Spirit Binder

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  Ren erupted, which was odd, as she certainly remembered him as being very restrained, detached even. “Oh, I see! He can haul you off, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, and for him you practically disintegrate a castle gate!”

  Theo whirled around to lock eyes with him. She could feel her own fury sparking off her skin. “No, I am the one who sees … everything … I see you care nothing for anything beyond yourself.”

  “Except you. You are beyond myself, and I am afraid I cannot do without you.”

  “I’m just some sort of possession, like a sword you brand with your blood.” She thrust her marked arm toward him in indignation.

  He grabbed the arm and pulled it toward him, so he could lay his marked arm alongside it. Her mark rippled uncomfortably at this flesh-on-flesh contact.

  “I took your mark as willingly as you took mine,” he spat. “Yet yours is faded and within your power to dissolve. You turn on me here with accusation and mistrust, when it is you who has not been true and loyal.”

  “It’s faded because I wasn’t my whole self when I accepted it.” Some of the heat had eroded from Theo’s anger. She was attempting to shield herself from all the energy whirling uncontrollably around the castle, trying to not focus on Davin and —

  “It’s faded because of him! Your soul was intact, Theo, when we were mated.”

  Again his archaic use of the word ‘soul’, and now the word ‘mated’, struck her … perhaps because he couldn’t see or feel Spirit, and therefore couldn’t be affected by it, he sought out other words to describe his feelings … and, yes, she did indeed remember being well mated to him.

  Just like that, as if he’d broken through some barrier in her memory, she was in his arms. His skin seared her own, and he held her so hard, not at all afraid of contact, for what did someone impervious to magic have to fear from her?

  She wrapped herself around him, legs and all. He yanked up her skirt impatiently to lift her up to his mouth, rather than leaning down. There was nothing tender or sweet about his embrace. She buried her hands in his hair, and met his tongue with her own. The sparks of anger that had been dancing over her skin exploded now into a throbbing heat, and she remembered she’d always ached this same way in his arms. There was comfort in this passion.

  He held her against the wall of the corridor and pressed his groin to hers, as he lowered his mouth to her neck. She threw her head back to give him access.

  His hand found her breast, and his thumb teased her already erect nipple. She groaned without meaning to, and he answered by moaning into the crook of her neck, “Theo.”

  For some reason, the use of her name called her back to herself, and she realized something was still missing … he was all touch and taste, heat and strength, but she wanted all of him.

  She tugged his head back to look him in the eyes. Ren smiled at her, his face softened by passion. His fierceness focused on pleasure.

  He moved his hips, and she gasped at the flare of pleasure he triggered in her lower belly. His grin widened … but still she wanted more. She opened up her mind to his. She tried to look into him, but he wasn’t there.

  “Theo,” his voice rasped, and the sound of it recalled something primal within her. He’d been everything to her, when she’d thought she had nothing. She breathed him in as before, seeking the comfort, the stability, she’d previously found with him.

  “Too much? Too fast?” he asked and settled his hands on her waist.

  “Ren,” she whispered, and cupped her hands to his face. She so wanted the connection they’d had in the past … so she, stupidly, threw open her mind as far as it would go, certainly she could see his spirit if she was just open enough.

  It was a mistake.

  Pain lanced through her brain: Davin’s pain. The very stone of the castle screamed with it. She almost fainted from the intensity of it, and would have fallen had Ren not been holding her.

  They were, no, her mother was, tearing Davin apart, but behind Rhea, she could feel Dougal and even the Chancellor. Their rage made her stomach heave, and she pushed away from Ren blindly, for she had no eyes of her own. She only saw through Davin now. She flung herself away to dry heave on the floor. She was trapped within Davin’s tortured mind.

  Ren shouted and tried to hold her, but she fought him as Davin couldn’t fight her mother. This wasn’t just questing for information, such as she’d done with Ambrose. No, her mother was indiscriminately ripping through Davin’s mind looking for anything, any tiny piece of information, and not caring what she left behind.

  Theo gathered all the pain and energy she could touch, from herself, from Davin, from the very castle. She gathered this all into herself until she convulsed with it. Ren shouted something, but she couldn’t hear his words for all the pain she’d pulled within herself.

  Then she focused on her mother, and with the hardest push she could muster, she threw all the pain and energy back at her.

  Later, they would tell her that anyone standing in the path of this energy wave was thrown backward when it hit, that the walls warped and glass shattered, but at the time, all she cared was that it stopped her mother. It forced Rhea to shut down and regroup.

  Hugh came running around the corner, and all of a sudden, she could actually see him, see his bright spirit as it filled her vision. She was no longer trapped in Davin’s mind. Hugh grabbed Ren and yanked him from her; it must have looked as if he was hurting her, rather than trying to stop her from hurting herself.

  They shouted. Ren blocked Hugh from reaching for her. Their hands flew to their swords.

  She trembled so violently she couldn’t even sit up. She felt the draw to Davin’s pain begin to ramp up. She hadn’t been able to close down her mind yet, as if she’d burnt out her power to do so. She fought against this pull, but she was losing.

  “Hugh,” she cried, and Ren stepped aside.

  Hugh knelt before her and placed his hands on either side of her head. She covered his hands with her own. She was still having trouble seeing with her own eyes, but she just tried to focus on Hugh’s spirit, and it helped.

  “Theo. Theo, you’re trembling, what is it?”

  She couldn’t answer.

  “We were, we were just … talking,” Ren offered.

  “Talking?” Hugh didn’t sound amused. “Did you touch her without her permission?”

  “Absolutely not! Besides my mark on her arm gives me permission. I couldn’t have triggered this. She was … we were kissing … and she pulled back and looked like … I don’t know! Like, like she was trying —”

  “Get Peony. She’s in the kitchen. Tell her … she’ll have already felt it, but I don’t think she can trace Theo, tell her she needs to bring something to calm Theo down.”

  Hugh gathered her into his lap and sat propped against the wall. Ren looked as if he would argue, but after another glance of her trembling in Hugh’s arms, thought better of it and ran down the hall.

  “Hugh,” she whispered, after what seemed like an eternity.

  “I’m here.” He rocked her lightly in his arms.

  “My mother. Davin,” she struggled to explain.

  “I know.”

  “But it’s my fault. I opened myself up.”

  “I know,” he sighed.

  She reached out and stroked the edge of his spirit. She tried to not think or see anything else. His arms tightened around her and then relaxed.

  “So bright,” she whispered, and he didn’t answer.

  She could feel her mother’s anger seeping in again. Dougal had taken over Davin’s torture. She tried to block it out.

  Hugh rocked her again … or maybe he’d never stopped.

  “He will grow tired of rescuing me,” she muttered to herself.

  “Never,” she thought she heard Hugh whisper, but it was lost as another wave of violent energy hit her.

  “Can’t block it,” she cried, even as she struggled to do so.


  Then, Peony was there, pressing a cup of foul-smelling hot liquid to her lips. She drank it, remembering it from when she’d first returned half-dead to Hollyburn Castle.

  Then she slept.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  She woke in Hugh’s bedroom with Bryan asleep on the carpet at the bottom of her bed. It was deep night. She’d lost another twelve hours of her life.

  She was immediately aware that the Preacher’s force had arrived: a large dark void spread from the castle’s northeast walls through the valley.

  She brushed the boy’s cheek with her fingers, supposing he must have snuck in to see her and then fallen asleep. She slipped out of bed without disturbing him, and wandered over to the balcony to see if she could lay eyes on this seething blackness. But, beyond the walls of the keep, she could only see a natural darkness; even the moon was hidden from view, though that was a trick of the cloud, not some all-powerful spellcaster. She shivered and sent a silent thank you to the Greatness of Spirit for the swift restoration of her mind shield.

  The keep below was lined with tents and bursting with warriors. Torches lit their steady preparations, as swords and armor were sharpened and mended. The air reeked of burnt magic — a combination of spells — and maybe even some blood, as the warriors equipped themselves with the mightiest armaments they could muster.

  Their generation had never seen a war. Rowen had died over thirty years before, and her death had allowed Rhea to reign in peace ever since, according to Dougal’s grudge. These preparations were now being done in Theo’s name. It was a sickening realization.

  She moved away from the balcony, and quickly dressed. Besides the resident children, no one was asleep in the castle tonight, and she had no intention of going back to bed either.

  She covered Bryan with her duvet and bade the carpet to keep watch over him. Then she headed back to the library. It was not where she wanted to go, but it was where she was supposed to be.

  ∞

  All was not well in the library.

  Ren and Hugh sat as far apart as the walls would allow. Dougal and the Chancellor paced, while her mother nursed a magical backlash headache at the desk.

  All eyes turned to her as she entered, and none of them were particularly welcoming.

  Residual magic lingered in the room from Davin’s torture. She tried to not flinch as she walked into it, but wasn’t terribly successful.

  “Did you get what you wanted?” she asked her mother, who sighed as if it hurt to hear her voice.

  “We got enough, and made an example of him, which is just as valuable,” Dougal answered.

  She shuddered to think what that meant, but still felt too bruised to open her mind to find out.

  “I am sorry such things hurt you so much, darling,” her mother said.

  “It’s a matter of reality, Rhea. She’s a soldier, not the savior you’ve groomed her to be,” Dougal turned on Theo with a growl. “Remember your place and everything will go as planned.”

  “I remember who you wish me to be, both of you, but I also know that all spirit is precious, and to destroy —”

  “Spirit cannot be destroyed,” her mother wearily interrupted. “Not that I agree with Dougal at all.”

  “Not one of us agrees with Dougal,” the Chancellor added.

  “Fine, so spirit cannot be destroyed, or created, but certainly that is no justification to destroy the vessel that contains it.”

  “To protect you, Theodora, I would do far worse,” her mother stated grimly.

  “And we will do far worse,” Dougal agreed.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “Finally,” the Chancellor declared, and crossed to speak with one of his spellcasters just outside the library. It was the man who’d approached her after she’d smoothed the castle’s wards. Even now he seemed to be attempting to get a glance of her over the Chancellor’s shoulder.

  She felt Hugh’s eyes on her and realized she’d been rubbing the mark on her arm. It was tingling from Ren’s nearness, she supposed, but it was an unwanted distraction. She dropped her hands. “So where are we now? Is there some sort of plan? Has he requested a parley?”

  “No,” her mother answered, but didn’t elaborate. She was listening in on the Chancellor’s conversation.

  Theo felt like joining Dougal in his pacing, but didn’t want to seem united with him. She felt dampened and restless, by both her own mental shields and the castle walls.

  The Chancellor returned, his eyes on Theo while he addressed Dougal and Rhea. “The spellcasters cannot break through the magic hiding the Preacher’s force from sight. Knowing the magic is based on Theodora’s blood, which is why it is so strong, only helped them actually see and identify the spell, not penetrate it.”

  So that was the ‘enough’ information they’d gleaned from Davin’s mind. The Preacher’s shield was built with her blood.

  “So we still have no idea how many men or what weapons he has brought. Nor do we know if we choose to face this darkness without sight if we can even fight within it,” Dougal said.

  “There is one thing,” the Chancellor hesitantly offered, and he looked to Rhea, who stiffened.

  “Absolutely not! I won’t have it!”

  “What?” Dougal asked.

  “Well …”

  “I said no.”

  “Rhea! We cannot fight what we cannot see and you cannot even feel!” Dougal seemed weary, like this was a fight they’d been repeating for hours.

  “It’s unnatural and far too dangerous.” Her mother refused to even acknowledge the Chancellor’s suggestion out loud, so Theo did.

  “How much of my blood?” she asked, and Hugh sprung out of his chair, but then didn’t protest further. “A drop, freely given, would be more powerful than his stolen bandages, would it not?” Blood magic, as far as Theo could discern, was temperamental and fickle. It could help a caster build and trigger powerful spells or it could simply destroy. Stolen blood was even more unpredictable, as if it was sentient, and could choose whether or not to cooperate.

  “I have already made my ruling, Theodora.”

  “A single drop contains my spirit in enough quantity to help the casters break through the Preacher’s cloak of darkness?”

  “They believe so.” The Chancellor was pained by ignoring Rhea’s protests. “The casters believe that blood recognizes blood, and therefore will obey a command pushed through even by a single drop.”

  “The use of blood magic is outlawed for a reason.” Rhea attempted to be calm. “The casters cannot know what such power will actually do. They could kill us all.”

  “That is a little much, Rhea,” Dougal chided. “One drop is unlikely to kill us all, even misused or misdirected.”

  “It is Theodora’s blood we are discussing. You would give the casters access to her power? Especially now, as you put it, that she is wholly empowered?”

  “No.” Dougal seemed unsatisfied with his own answer.

  “One drop?” Hugh verified.

  “Yes,” the Chancellor responded.

  “Overseen by us, not just the spellcasters.”

  “I will not participate. I will not have my daughter participate.”

  Hugh actually held up a hand to Rhea and she, shocked, actually shut up, though she looked like she might choke.

  “Blood magic is powerful,“ Ren attempted to join the debate.

  “As evidenced by the mark on your arm,” Hugh snapped.

  Theo hadn’t thought of that, that she had Ren’s blood underneath her skin as he did hers …

  “It’s barbaric!” her mother declared.

  “Yes,” Hugh agreed. “But I imagine it was the only binding that would work on Ren.” He looked to Dougal for confirmation. Dougal nodded. “And Ren, how much stronger were you after you accepted Theo’s mark?”

  “I was always strong,” Ren sneered.

  “Practically invulnerable,” Dougal announced, but looked
steadily away from Rhea’s incredulous expression.

  “Was that it? Why you encouraged them? To make your boy more powerful?” her mother spat.

  Theo caught Ren’s eye. He shook his head, as if to deny Rhea’s accusation as it applied to him, but she had no way of knowing whether or not he was telling the truth.

  “And that was when Theo didn’t have access to her mind mage powers,” Hugh continued, not acknowledging the new tension that rebounded around the room.

  “The power would have always been in her blood, even if she didn’t have access to it,” the Chancellor clarified.

  Hugh turned to Theo. “Dougal is right. We cannot fight what we cannot see. Can you feel anything? Can you penetrate the darkness that hunkers down outside my father’s home?”

  She couldn’t, no matter how formally Hugh asked. Not that she’d thrown everything she had at it, but she’d tested it enough times to know she could lose herself within that darkness.

  “One drop. We make sure the spell uses every trace of it, so nothing remains to be exploited by the casters. We oversee the casting. Like all magic, we should be able to feel if the spell is … correct?”

  “Correct!” her mother sneered. “There is nothing correct about blood magic!”

  “That’s how Rowen died, then?” Theo asked her mother gently, but it was the slump of Dougal’s shoulders that answered her question. So, yes. They’d lost their sister to blood magic. It must have been a mighty spell, or perhaps even a weapon fortified in blood, to vanquish a wielder as powerful as Rowen must have been given her familial connection. In fact, as triplets, they shared the same blood, which made Theo wonder if Rhea or Dougal had had their own blood used against their sister. That would explain a lot of the history between the two.

  “But you … both … taught me to not be afraid of magic or spirit, for they are the same thing. One just manipulates the other. I won’t have people die for me, but if I cannot help it, I certainly won’t have them die unseeing or in darkness. I know a little of what that feels like.”

  Her mother simply rested her forehead in her hand, and Dougal stopped his pacing to sit beside his sister.