tolerated, where no soul is forced against its will. Let that good work be your honor, ghosthound, and I promise I will take the life you were so willing to throw away and cherish it as I do my own.”
The hound stared at her a long time, and then he snorted against her hand. “And our loss will hurt Hapter, do you think?”
Miranda grinned. “It will kill him.”
The hound’s muzzle lifted in a toothy grin. “What’s your name, Spiritualist?”
“Miranda Lyonette,” Miranda said.
The ghosthound grinned wider still. “I’m Gin, and I accept your offer.”
“Good,” Miranda said. “Because we have a wedding to crash.”
The dog laughed at that, showing all his sharp, sharp teeth, and then he lay down so swiftly Miranda jumped.
“Get on, then,” he said. “Unless you’re scared?”
“What’s there for me to be scared of?” Miranda said, struggling up onto the spot between his shoulders. “We’re a team now, remember?”
Gin’s answer was to nudge her roughly into place with his nose, and then he jumped up so fast Miranda nearly snapped her neck. She couldn’t help a squeal as they flew through the hole Durn had left in the roof. She’d never expected a ghosthound to be able to jump like that, but Gin cleared the leap effortlessly, running along the roof before jumping into the garden. The wedding was spread across the front lawn, a great sea of colored tents and banquet tables. Hapter was standing at the front, talking hurriedly to a group of guards. He stopped the second Miranda and Gin came into view, his face going scarlet as he opened his mouth to shout.
He never got the chance. Gin moved faster than the wind. He jumped up on the longest banquet table, cracking it beneath his weight before leaping again to land right in the middle of Hapter’s guards. They scattered like thrown sticks, leaving Gin nose-to-nose with Hapter himself, who was now white as the tablecloths. From her perch on his back, Miranda leaned down between the ghosthound’s ears, resting her elbows on the dog’s head as she met Hapter’s terrified face with a wide smile.
“I told you,” she said. “I’m not the sort of woman you push around. Have a nice wedding.”
Gin growled as she finished, slamming his nose into Hapter’s chest so hard the man fell. For a moment, Miranda was afraid Gin would forget that killing Hapter wasn’t part of the deal, but the dog turned away and began running full tilt down the drive.
“Thank you for not killing him,” Miranda said.
Gin gave a loud snort that could have meant anything. “So, where to now?”
“Home,” Miranda said, pointing across the fields toward Zarin.
Gin picked up the pace, shooting across the fields so fast Miranda had to cling to his fur for dear life. After a few minutes, though, she got the hang of it. Finger by finger, she released her death grip, and then she lifted her hands out to her sides, throwing back her head with a laugh as Gin flew over the green hills toward the white towers of Zarin rising in the distance.
One month later
“How many pigs can you eat?” Miranda said, leaning on the fence that was the only thing separating the world at large from the slaughter currently going down in the Spirit Court’s butcher yard.
“I don’t know,” Gin said, eyeing the next squealing pig in the paddock. “How many do you have?”
Miranda made a disgusted face and turned to Rector Banage, who was dressed for traveling and leaning patiently on the fence beside her. “I’m so sorry, Master Banage,” she said. “We’ll get on the road as soon as my glutton of a dog is full.”
“A few more minutes won’t hurt,” Banage said. “We’re just going to confirm the death of an Enslaver and the freeing of his spirits, not to chase him down. If there weren’t so many spirits involved, I’d have left it to the local Tower Keeper.”
“He won’t be long,” Miranda promised, glaring at Gin. “Will he?”
Gin’s answer was a low growl as he started on his next pig.
Miranda shuddered and turned away. “I will never get used to that.”
“The price of keeping a predator,” Banage said sagely, glancing up. “I wonder what he wants?”
Miranda glanced up as well to see Spiritualist Krigel coming toward them, a large, formal-looking envelope in his hand.
“Oh, good,” he said when he reached them. “I thought I’d missed you. A letter just came for you, Spiritualist Lyonette.”
Miranda frowned. “For me?” She never got letters, especially not such elegant looking ones.
Krigel nodded and handed it over. The seal was that of the Council, and Miranda felt her stomach drop. Council letters were never good. She opened it quickly and pulled out a large stack of papers. There were so many, she wasn’t actually sure what she held in her hands until she caught sight of her father’s name at the top of a large, formal certificate.
“I think I’ve been disowned,” she said, squinting at the elegant, slanted writing. “Yes, here it is.” She tapped the second sheet of the stack. “They’ve crossed me off the family register.”
“Miranda.” Master Banage’s voice was gentle. “I can handle this trip myself. If you want some time—”
Miranda didn’t let him finish. She folded the papers back up and tossed them in the rubbish bin beside the butcher’s shed.
“I knew it was coming,” she said, dusting off her hands as she turned back to her master and Spiritualist Krigel. “I mean, I defied my father, made fools of my fiance and my family, and trashed a very expensive party. What else could they do?”
“But it is your family,” Banage said.
“My family is right here,” Miranda said. “And if I had the chance, I’d do it all again. Don’t worry, Master Banage. I don’t mind being disowned because I didn’t care for being owned in the first place. I’ll take being a Spiritualist over being a Lyonette any day.” Especially since the only family she actually cared for wasn’t a Lyonette any more. Tima was a Whitefall, and Whitefalls could mix with whomever they wanted. But even if Tima had been unmarried, Miranda knew her sister would never turn her away, no matter what their father said. With that thought, Miranda’s face broke into a smile, and she made a mental note to pay a quiet visit to Tima and her husband as soon as this Enslaver business was done.
Her smile must have reassured him, because Banage smiled as well and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing briefly before letting go. “Does that mean we have to start calling you something else?”
“Of course not,” Miranda said. “I like my name. And what are they going to do if I keep using it? Disown me again?”
“I guess you’re out of their power,” Spiritualist Krigel said.
“I never was very much in it to begin with,” Miranda replied, turning back to the butcher yard. “Gin! Are you done?”
There was a deep sigh, and then Gin hopped over the fence, red tongue sliding over his bloody muzzle. Miranda shook her head and climbed onto his back while Banage called his stone horse. Krigel stepped out of the way as they rode around to the main road, scattering the afternoon crowds as they made their way out of the Spirit Court’s district and up toward the northern gate.
“Where are we going, mistress?” Gin said, his voice rumbling through her as they ran past the market.
“Somewhere in the north, though only Banage knows for sure,” Miranda said, frowning. “And since when do you call me mistress?”
Gin flicked his ears. “If your family is too stupid to claim you, I will. That was our agreement, wasn’t it? Power for service, strength for obedience, and your soul as my pack?”
“There’s only one of me,” Miranda said with a laugh. “Kind of a small pack.”
“You only need two,” Gin said, tongue hanging out as they reached the gate. “Hold on. I’m about to run off some of those pigs.”
Miranda’s eyes widened, and she barely managed to secure her grip in time before Gin shot forward, racing down the road in a shifting silver streak. She adjusted to the speed soon enough, throwing her arms out with a laugh as they flew up the road with Master Banage’s stone horse hot on their heels, speeding on their way to do the Spirit Court’s good work.
