The Spirit Thief

dressed crowd.

She ran to catch up. “Lady! Where are you going?”

“To hold him to his words,” Miranda said, pushing past a pair of old ladies waving their lacy handkerchiefs at the prince. “He says he wants to help, so I’m going to make him give me that note.”

Marion shrank from the nasty looks they were getting, but before she could start apologizing, a boy in page’s livery popped out of the crowd right beside Miranda.

“Lady Spiritualist,” he said, bowing nervously. “Lord Renaud wishes to meet you right away.”

“Well,” Miranda said. “That saves some trouble. Lead on.”

The page turned and led them away from the crowd to a small door just off the back half of the main throne room. This opened into a small, richly decorated parlor. As soon as they were inside, the page vanished back into the crowd, letting the door close softly behind him.

“Well,” Miranda said, dropping into one of the silk couches, “that was all very neat. We were swept up and tucked away before we could cause trouble.” She glanced at Marion, who was still standing by the door, looking slightly dazed. “Your Renaud seems to have gained quite a bit of influence in a very short time for a banished wizard prince. His speech wasn’t that good.”

“Prince is the key word there, I think.” Marion sighed, padding across the carpet to take a seat on one of the straight-backed, carved wooden chairs under the window. “With the king gone, Mellinor’s been headless. Since our founding, we’ve never been without a king for more than a day. There’s no precedent at all, so it’s no wonder the masters are in a panic. I shouldn’t say this, but they’d probably follow the king’s dog at this point if it could prove a royal lineage.” She glanced at the door. “Lord Renaud sure picked the right time to come back. Only in a situation like this could his status as a prince outweigh his stigma as a wizard.”

“How very convenient for him,” Miranda said thoughtfully.

Marion paled. “Please don’t take offense, lady. Stigma’s the wrong word. I-”

“It’s fine.” Miranda smiled. “Don’t apologize. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“It’s just…” Marion pulled at her dress. “I’ve never had to think about things from a wizard’s-Spiritualist! Spiritualist’s point of view, and-”

She stopped midbabble and sprang out of her chair. Miranda looked at her, confused, but Marion shook her head fiercely and pointed at the door before dropping into a low curtsy.

A second later, Prince Renaud himself swept into the room.

CHAPTER 8

He was alone, which struck Miranda as unusual, and he bowed as graciously as any servant as the door drifted shut behind him.

“Lady Spiritualist,” he said, “I’ve very much looked forward to meeting you.”

Miranda stood up and bowed as well, hoping Mellinor had no special deviations from common court etiquette. “Lord Renaud, I appreciate your taking the time to see me. There are several things-”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Renaud said, rolling right over her. “The masters told me you’ve been up since you got here.”

Miranda stiffened. “I appreciate your concern, but time is of the essence. If we are to save your brother, I must have access to the king’s original ransom note.”

“Oh, it’s far too late to question the spirits, if that’s what you’re after.” Renaud smiled sweetly.

“I’ll make my own decision on that,” Miranda said flatly. “The spirits in that note are our only connection to Eli. If you will not give it to me, then tell me where to find it and I will fetch the note myself, but do not waste my time, or your brother’s, with assumptions about my methods.”

Renaud’s smile did not waver. “I’m afraid that simply won’t be possible.”

“Excuse me?” Miranda’s glare seemed to lower the temperature in the room. Lord Renaud continued as if nothing had happened.

“The court of Mellinor was in a panic when you arrived, and the officials you bullied into permitting your free reign of this kingdom had no right to grant you the freedoms they did. Now that I have restored order, I’m afraid your assistance in this matter is no longer needed.”

“Forgive me, prince,” Miranda said, “but it is not your place to decide my duties. Panic or no, my aid was requested by officials acting on the king’s behalf. My duty lies with Henrith now, and only his rescue or death can relieve me of it.”

“Your dedication is admirable,” Renaud said. “But Mellinor will deal with Mellinor’s problems.”

“A bold statement.” Miranda eyed him. “But how will you go about it? A wizard dangerous enough for a twenty thousand gold bounty is not one to be taken lightly. No matter what boasts you make, you are going to need my help if you plan to face him.”

Renaud paused and flicked his eyes pointedly to Marion. The girl, who was trying to make herself as small as possible, froze. He made a slight shooing motion with one finger, and Marion, palace trained as she was, leaped to obey. After a series of overly polite curtsies, she hurried past him and out of the room. Only when the door was shut completely did Renaud continue.

“That’s better.” Renaud smiled. “As I was saying, your statement might be true, if we intended to fight him. The masters and I went over the ransom note as soon as it arrived, and we found Eli’s demands to be quite reasonable.”

Miranda stared blankly at him. “You’re joking.”

“I can assure you I am not,” Renaud said, meeting her gaze levelly.

“Five thousand in cash and thirty-five in bounty pledges? In what world is that reasonable?”

“Is my brother not worth five times as much?” Renaud’s glare sharpened.

“You can’t just give that, that thief what he wants!” Miranda sputtered.

Renaud sighed. “You see, this is precisely why we cannot accept your help. How could we trust our king’s life to someone who values it so cheaply?”

Miranda flinched, getting a firm grip on her rage. “It’s not about the money,” she said, calmly now. “Don’t you see this is exactly what he wants? Think about it: by demanding you pledge thirty-five thousand to his bounty, Eli ensures that Mellinor has a hefty stake in keeping him uncaught. He’s using this country as a safety net. If you just give in like this, think about what kind of signal you’ll be sending other would-be thieves. Eli is an innovator, but he’s not the only wizard thief. If he is successful, others will surely follow his lead. Doing this could make Mellinor a target for years to come, and your policy against wizards leaves you helpless.”

“But you forget,” Renaud said, folding his hands behind his back, “Mellinor has its own wizard now.”

“Being born a wizard doesn’t mean you have the skills to fight one. What if Eli double-crosses you? Did you think about that? If he decides to take the money and not return your king, do you really think you could stop him?”

“Your concern for our well-being is touching,” Renaud said, “but such matters are no longer yours to worry about.” He walked casually to the door and held it open. “You’ll find whatever provisions you need in the kitchens. If that dog of yours is half of what they say, you should be able to make it over the border by nightfall.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I sincerely suggest you make all haste. I might not feel so generous tomorrow, should you be caught on our lands.”

Miranda stood her ground. “I am not one to be dismissed so easily.”

“But you are a member of the Spirit Court,” Renaud said, “and you are bound by your oaths not to interfere in internal kingdom affairs. You could be stripped of your position if you push this much further.” His smile turned cruel. “Isn’t that so, lady Spiritualist?”

It was all Miranda could do not to strangle the smug lordling with his own flowing hair. Her spirits picked up her tension and began to murmur in their gems. For a wild moment, she was on the edge of opening up and showing him the difference between a Court-trained Spiritualist and a self-taught brat. Slowly, methodically, she clamped down on the impulse. She turned and walked out of the room, but when she reached Renaud, she stopped and whispered in a low, cutting voice, “This isn’t over.”

“No,” Renaud whispered back. “I believe it is.”