Spirit's Oath ( legend of eli monpress )

by Rachel Aaron

  Last night, she’d been seriously ready to walk back to Zarin. If her father wanted to drag her before the Council, he was free to try. Personally, Miranda was willing to bet he wouldn’t have the stomach for it, but this was no longer totally about her. She stood and walked to the window, staring out across the garden toward the roof she could just barely see over the tall bushes at the edge of the grounds. She was not the only one trapped here, and she couldn’t leave, not without taking the ghosthound with her.

  But that was easier said than done. Durn could keep the ghosthound pinned, but he couldn’t move him, and she dared not let him out if the ghosthound’s first act in freedom would be to go for Martin Hapter’s throat. The ghosthound might be willing to give his life for Hapter’s, but Miranda wasn’t about to let something as beautiful and rare as a ghosthound die for someone as stupid as Hapter. But that left her in a bind. The ghosthound was clearly an abused spirit held against his will. As a Spiritualist, she couldn’t leave without freeing him, but she couldn’t free the ghosthound unless she could convince him not to go for Hapter, and she was running out of time.

  She had to talk to the ghosthound again and find some way to make him see reason, but the grounds were crawling with the other guests, and there would certainly be a confrontation if she tried to get out now. Things would only get worse if Hapter knew she was after the ghosthound. He might even move him, and then Miranda really would be in trouble. No, if she was only going to get one shot at this, then she would do it right. Tonight. She would go tonight.

  Decision made, Miranda walked back to her bed and settled under the sheets to catch up on the sleep she’d lost last night. If tonight went anything like she hoped, she was going to need it.

  * * *

  Her mother woke her up four hours later to get her ready for the ball. Alma came in with a whole train of maids carrying a dress that looked like a silk-flower shop had exploded over a wire frame, but the whole lot was sent back out again when Miranda set her heels and announced she was not going to any ball. The next two hours were an ugly scene of screaming and crying, but Miranda didn’t scream this time, and she was immune to Alma’s tears. She’d made up her mind, and no amount of hysterics, pleading, or weeping could budge her. It got so bad that her father was brought in, but even Lord Lyonette’s threats weren’t enough. Miranda would not be moved. Finally, they gave up and tromped off downstairs, leaving Tima to “talk some sense into her sister.” Tima, of course, was too smart to try that. Instead, she just sat in the chair beside her sister with her needlepoint while the music of the ball drifted up from below.

  Thirty minutes later, someone knocked on the door, and a deep, angry voice said, “Miss Lyonette?”

  Tima jerked and looked at Miranda with wide, worried eyes, but Miranda just shook her head. She’d known this was coming, she was only surprised he’d waited this long.

  Martin Hapter didn’t wait to be invited in. He opened the door and stomped inside, stopping short when he saw Tima.

  “Lady Whitefall,” he said, his voice tight. “I’d like a moment alone with my fiancée, if you don’t mind.”

  Tima looked at Miranda, but Miranda just smiled. “Go ahead, Tima,” she said quietly. “I can handle this.”

  Tima did not look happy, but she obeyed, slipping silently out the door with a last wary look. When she was gone, Martin locked the door behind her.

  “What do you think you are doing?” he said, his soft voice at odds with the anger that poured off his body.

  “Exactly what I told you I’d be doing,” Miranda said, crossing her arms. “I told you I wasn’t getting married, and I see no reason to attend an engagement ball when I’m not engaged.”

  Martin whirled around, stalking across the room so fast Miranda flinched back. “I have half the noble families in Zarin down there,” he hissed. “You will not make me a laughingstock.”

  “I don’t have to,” Miranda said. “You did that yourself when you kept pushing this ridiculous marriage after I’d rejected you.”

  Martin growled and started to reach for her, but Miranda lifted her hand, rings glowing like bonfires on her fingers. “I wouldn’t come any closer, Mr. Hapter,” she said quietly. “Spiritualists don’t take well to threats.”

  Angry as he was, Martin wasn’t stupid. He stopped and backed away. “You are playing a very dangerous game with me, Miranda,” he said slowly. “I am not a man to be trifled with.”

  “And I am not a woman to be pushed around,” Miranda said, letting her hand hang between them, rings lighting her face. “I am a Spiritualist of the Spirit Court, and this conversation is over.”

  Martin backed away, but the anger on his face only grew darker. “Fine,” he said. “Sulk in here all night if you like, but this changes nothing. We will be married tomorrow, one way or another, so I suggest you make peace with the idea.”

  Miranda leaned back in her chair. “Good-bye, Mr. Hapter.”

  Martin gave her one last glare and marched out, slamming the door and locking it from the outside with a heavy click. Miranda waited until the sound of his stomping boots vanished into the distant music of the ball before she let herself flop forward.

  That had been a gamble. Technically, it was against the law for her to threaten anyone with her spirits save in bodily self-defense, but apparently Mr. Hapter wasn’t quite as all-knowing as he seemed, because he hadn’t called her bluff. Miranda wouldn’t bet on it working twice, though, and so the moment she was sure he was really gone, she got to work.

  She pulled off her morning dress and wiggled into a dark green two-piece riding dress made of a sensible linen weave. She still didn’t have boots, but she’d found at the bottom of her trunk some sturdier slippers that actually fit her feet. She still felt overdressed, but it would have to do. She braided her hair back to keep it out of her face, tying it at the end with a bit of ribbon from the discarded bridal crown. When she was sure her hair would hold, she walked over to the window and slid it up.

  Her room was on the mansion’s third floor. The garden below was dark and deserted. Everyone was in the ballroom on the opposite side of the house. Still, the drop would have been enough to discourage most people, but Miranda wasn’t most people. She drew Alliana’s moss-green ring from her little finger and leaned out the window, dropping the ring when the wind died down. It fell silently, disappearing into the dark, but Miranda didn’t need to see the ring to feel her moss spirit cleanly, and she knew Alliana had landed just below her window. The moment the moss spirit hit the ground, Miranda fed a bit of power down their connection. The effect was immediate. All at once, a great springy bed of moss blossomed, pushing out the grass as it grew into a huge mound so vibrant Miranda could see the green clearly even in the dark. When the moss had finished growing, Miranda reached into her bodice and drew out Eril’s pearl pendant.

  “Eril,” she said firmly. “Time to work.”

  She wasn’t actually sure she’d gotten through to him until she felt his breath by her ear. “Must I?”

  “Yes,” Miranda said firmly, climbing onto the window ledge. “Ready?”

  Eril’s answer was a blast of wind that nearly blew her over. Smiling, Miranda nudged forward and slid out the window, plummeting into the night. Eril’s wind caught her as she passed the second story, slowing her fall and dropping her gently onto the bed of springy moss. Miranda took a moment to catch her balance, and then she leaned down, snatching Alliana’s ring out of the moss’s green folds. The beautiful moss vanished immediately, shrinking back into the ring as Miranda slid it onto her finger.

  “Good work,” she said, setting off across the grounds. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, mistress,” Alliana said.

  Eril just gave her hair one last puff before sliding into his pendant. Miranda rolled her eyes. Maybe the real reason most Spiritualists didn’t keep winds wasn’t because they were hard to catch; maybe it was because they were a pain to work with. But Eril was a problem for another day, and she
shoved his pendant back into her dress as she slipped into the dark garden, weaving her way between the tall plants toward the zoo house at the other side.

  The building was dark and shuttered for the night. She undid the lock as before, walking straight past the sleeping animals until she was standing again before the ghosthound’s cage. The animal didn’t even bother to feign sleep this time. He was awake and waiting when she came around the corner, his orange eyes wide and glowing in the ambient light from the torches far across the lawn.

  “Changed your mind?” he growled.

  “Yes and no,” Miranda said, stepping up until she was right in front of the bars, well within claw range. “I’m getting out of here tonight, and I’m taking you with me. I can’t let you kill Hapter, but I can offer you something else.”

  The dog snorted. “You think because you’re a wizard you have anything I want?”

  “I’m not just a wizard,” Miranda said. “I’m a Spiritualist, and what I can offer you is my solemn promise on my oaths and my name that if you leave here with me tonight, I will not rest until I have returned you to your home. It was wrong of Hapter to bring you here, wrong of him to lock you up. I can’t let you kill him for those wrongs, but I can help undo them. I will take you home, all the way across the sea to the land of ice, but you have to swear to me that you will not make any move for Hapter.”

  The ghosthound’s orange eyes widened, and then his long toothed mouth opened in a laugh that made her hair stand on end. “Take me home?” he said, the words so broken by his growling laughter that Miranda almost couldn’t understand them. “You stupid little girl. What makes you think I want to go home?”

  “How is that stupid?” Miranda snapped. “Isn’t that why you want to kill Hapter? Because he brought you here and keeps you against your will?”

  “Among other reasons,” the dog said.

  “So why won’t you let me make it right?” Miranda said. “I can put things back as they were, return you to your life before Hapter came.”

  “There is no more home for me,” the ghosthound growled. “You understand nothing, human. I do not want to kill the man who captured me because he brought me here. I must kill him because that is the last act left of my life.” He tilted his head, and his orange eyes grew bitter. “I have no more home to go to. My capture was a disgrace. If I were to take your offer and go back, my pack would hunt me down and kill me. Death is the only cure for such dishonor. I understand this, which is why I must kill the man you call Hapter. If I must die, I will at least die with a cleared name and my honor restored. My pack mates are proud, worthy hunters, and they deserve no less.”

  “Wait,” Miranda said. “That’s why you want to kill Hapter? To appease some kind of screwed-up honor system for your pack a thousand miles away across the sea? Powers, mutt, they won’t even know.”

  “I will know,” the ghosthound snarled. “And that is what matters.”

  “What matters is your life!” Miranda shouted. “You are healthy, strong, alive. You are worth so much more than the dishonor of being captured by some hunter who got lucky. Hapter’s a slime, his life isn’t worth a hair of your coat, and I will not let you die avenging yourself on the likes of him.”

  “I don’t see how it’s any of your business what I do with my life,” the hound said, lashing his tail.

  Miranda lifted her chin. “If you’re so willing to throw it away, then I don’t see how you can complain about me picking it up.”

  The ghosthound snorted. “And what would you do with it? Bind me to you with the rest of your pets?”

  “My spirits are not pets,” Miranda said. “They are my partners, my strength. They are what I have pledged my life to.” She stepped forward, plunging her hand through the bars. “Come with me. If you won’t go home, we’ll find something else.”

  The dog glanced at her hand, growling deep in his throat. On her finger, she felt Durn pull at their connection, but Miranda didn’t dare take her eyes off the ghosthound’s to see what the stone spirit was upset about. “Don’t die here,” she whispered. “Don’t let him break you. Come with me; run with me.”

  The ghosthound met her eyes one last time. “It is you who should run, little Spiritualist,” he said, his voice low. “Listen to your rock.”

  Miranda frowned and shifted her attention to Durn’s connection. As she did, the warning blared through her right before the hand closed on her shoulder, jerking her away from the cage.

  “What do you think you are doing?”

  The roar was Hapter’s voice, and the hand was his as well. Caught off-guard, Miranda tumbled back when he pulled her. The ghosthound’s claws snatched out a second later, going through the air where she had been to claw at Hapter. If she hadn’t been there, the blow would have landed, but the ghosthound apparently wasn’t willing to kill her to get to his enemy, because the dog shifted his strike at the last second to keep from hitting her and missed Hapter as a result. Hapter dragged them both back with a string of curses and threw Miranda against the wall, putting them both well out of the dog’s reach.

  “Are you insane?” he shouted, panting beside her. “What part of ‘dangerous animal’ do you not understand?”

  “He’s not an animal!” Miranda shouted back. “He’s as smart as we are. How dare you keep him in a cage like that?”

  Martin stared at her in disbelief. “I see,” he said at last. “It’s not enough for you to throw away all propriety, you have to try and steal my ghosthound while you’re at it.”

  “I’m not stealing anything,” Miranda said. “You have no right to lock up an intelligent creature against his—”

  “Enough!” Hapter roared, slamming her into the wall.

  The moment he touched her, Miranda reached for Eril. The wind flew out with a great whoop, hitting Hapter across the chest so hard he flew backward toward the ghosthound’s cage. She realized her mistake when she caught the glint in the hound’s eyes and grabbed her connection with Eril, turning the wind just before the dog’s claws snatched Hapter out of the air. The new gust blew him onto the ground at her feet, and the ghosthound snapped his teeth in frustration.

  “Stop it,” Miranda said, glaring at the hound before turning her eyes to Hapter, who was pushing himself up. “And just so you know, I did that for him”—she nodded at the ghosthound—“not for you. If he’d killed you, your men would have put him down, and that’s far more than you’re worth.”

  “Powers, woman,” Hapter wheezed, stumbling to his feet. “Don’t you know who I am? I could buy and sell your miserable life a hundred times over!”

  “My life is not for sale!” Miranda cried. “Get that through your head!”

  “And when will you get it through your head that you already belong to me?” Hapter said, tugging his jacket straight.

  There were other men running through the zoo building, their boots so loud Miranda didn’t need Durn’s warning, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off Hapter. “I belong to no one,” she said as Hapter’s private guard came into the room. “My oaths are to the Court and the spirits. You own nothing of me.”

  “There you are wrong,” Hapter said, his thin mouth breaking into a cruel smile. “You are a done deal, Miranda. Bought and paid for, just like him.” He jerked his head toward the ghosthound, who snarled. The sound only sent Hapter’s grin wider, and he glanced at the guard closest to Miranda. “Escort my fiancée to her new room, the one without windows, and see that she stays there. Don’t worry about her spirits. I’ve been informed by a reliable source that, since she’s not acting on behalf of the Court at the moment, she can’t use them except for self-defense from actual bodily harm.” He turned back to Miranda. “And since we’re only doing this to keep her safe, I don’t think there will be a problem, do you, dearest?”

  “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.”