The ghosthound was sleeping when she entered, his patterns moving in sluggish circles. Miranda moved forward very slowly and opened her spirit just a fraction. “Ghosthound,” she whispered.
The hound moved like lightning. One moment it was seemingly asleep, the next its front leg was through the cage, slashing an inch from her face. Miranda jumped back with a yelp, and the ghosthound growled, dragging its front leg back into the cage. Pressed against the wall, Miranda forced her gasping lungs to breathe normally. On the other side of the room, the ghosthound gave her a disgusted look and sat back on its haunches.
“Ghosthound,” Miranda said again when she was sure her voice wouldn’t quiver. “Do you understand me?”
The ghosthound’s expression didn’t change.
“I know you can hear me,” Miranda said. “I understand you’re angry about being caged, but if you talk, I can help you.”
The hound’s ears flicked forward, and Miranda smiled, but then the dog began washing its front feet, and Miranda felt her hopes drop. The ghosthound was responding to the sound of her voice like any animal would. Maybe she’d imagined the intelligence she’d seen earlier, or maybe Martin was right. Maybe it was smart, but only smart as a dog, not a sentient creature.
“Please,” Miranda said again. “I’m a Spiritualist. I am sworn to help spirits who are being abused, and I think you are one of them. I’m on your side. Talk to me, if you can. Help me understand how I can help you.”
She sat there, waiting, but the dog just continued his unhurried washing. After five minutes, Miranda heaved a deep sigh and turned to leave. If the dog weren’t intelligent, maybe it really would get used to life here once it saw that it had regular food. That would make things less complicated, at least, and her life was certainly complicated enough at the moment. But when she reached the entrance to the little hall leading back to the other cages, a deep, growling voice stopped her in her tracks.
“If you break the cage, I promise to let you live.”
Miranda whirled around. The ghosthound was sitting as before, but he was no longer washing his paws. He was staring at her, his orange eyes bright and knowing. Under such intense scrutiny, Miranda had the overwhelming urge to drop her gaze, but she refused to be intimidated. After all, the dog was the one in the cage.
“You’ve got a rock tied to your soul,” the hound continued, his lips creeping up over his yellow teeth as he spoke. “A big one, well big enough to crush this metal wall. Let me out and I promise to spare you. My fight is with the dark-haired man who smells like powder and hidden fear.”
“Martin Hapter?” Miranda said.
The hound flicked his ears in a gesture that made Miranda think of a shrug.
“I don’t mind letting you out,” Miranda said slowly. “But you can’t kill Hapter.”
The hound’s growl made her hair stand on end. “Afraid I’ll kill your mate, human?”
“He’s not my mate!” Miranda snapped. “I don’t care if he lives or dies, but I can’t let you kill him. One, I don’t condone murder as punishment, and two, if you kill him, or even look like you’re going to, they will kill you for sure.”
“That is acceptable,” the hound said. “So long as the man dies, I am ready for the mists.”
“How can you say that?” Miranda cried. “Martin Hapter isn’t worth your death! I understand you want vengeance, but trust me, losing you will be pain enough for that man.”
The hound looked at her a moment longer, and then turned away, sitting with his back to her. “You asked how you could help,” he growled. “I told you. If you are unwilling to help, then we have nothing more to discuss.”
Miranda stared in disbelief. “So you don’t want to go free at all if you can’t kill Hapter?”
The hound didn’t answer, and he didn’t turn around. He just sat there, silent as the icy mist he resembled, until Miranda wanted to scream. Before she could, though, Durn’s spirit quivered in warning.
“Men are coming, mistress,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” Miranda said. She stepped closer to the cage. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “I won’t let him keep you like this.”
When the dog still didn’t look at her, Miranda turned and walked out, slipping through the zoo and fixing the lock on the door again before the servants came in with the animals’ food.
Miranda spent the rest of the day trying to convince people she wasn’t going to marry Martin Hapter. Unfortunately, no one was listening.
“How is my opinion the only one that doesn’t matter?” she shouted, fending off her mother, who was trying to fit a bridal crown over Miranda’s head. “I’m the one getting married!”
“You’ve had your way for years,” Alma said, slapping Miranda’s warding hands. “It’s time to let someone else have a say. Honestly, are you even capable of thinking of others?”
“I’ve given my life to protecting others!” Miranda cried, retreating toward the corner. “I’m a Spiritualist. Do you even know what we do?”
“Make a spectacle of yourselves, from what I’ve seen,” Alma said, slamming her hands on her hips. “You’re getting married tomorrow and that’s that. Everyone’s already invited.”
“By you!” Miranda said. “All of this was your doing! I refuse to accept any fault, and I absolutely refuse to get married tomorrow or ever.”
Alma threw up her hands and glared at Tima, who was sitting pale-faced in the corner.
“Miranda,” Tima said. “Really, there’s no use fighting it. It’ll go easier for everyone if you just make the best of things.”
“Maybe you can do that, Tima,” Miranda said, glaring at her sister. “But I’m not going to roll over just because she says so.” Her glare shifted to her mother. “Wasn’t that why you left me with the Spiritualists for so long? So I wouldn’t be around to back talk you?”
“You were the one who wanted to be a Spiritualist,” Alma said, crossing her arms over her chest. “From the moment you could talk, all I heard was Spiritualist this and Spiritualist that. And kind fool that I am, I let you be one for years, but it’s time to stop playing, Miranda. It’s a woman’s duty to get married for the good of her family. I did it, Tima did it, and now it’s your turn.”
Miranda pulled herself up with an angry breath. “My duty lies with my oaths, not this sham of a family that sells out its own flesh and blood for a big house!”
Alma’s lovely green eyes narrowed to slits. “You ungrateful child,” she growled. “But say whatever you like, you are getting married to Martin Hapter tomorrow, and you will behave yourself like a lady. Now”—she thrust the bridal crown at Tima—“I have to go check with Mr. Hapter on the preparations for the engagement ball tonight. I expect you to be dressed and ready by sundown.”
“You can expect whatever you want,” Miranda cried. “I’m not going to that, either!”
But Alma was already out the door, locking it behind her with an angry click. Miranda stared at the door for a moment and then threw herself down on the bed with a frustrated scream.
“Miranda,” Tima said, settling beside her and reaching over to rub her sister’s back. “I know it seems unfair. I reacted much the same way when they told me I’d be marrying Javier.”
“Tima,” Miranda said into the pillows, “I’ve never heard you raise your voice, not even when you broke your finger. I cannot believe you pitched a fit when you heard you were getting married.”
“Maybe I wasn’t as dramatic as you,” Tima admitted. “But I certainly thought of running away. Now, though, I’m glad I saw it through. I don’t think I’ll ever love Javier like the opera heroines love their heroes, but he treats me well, and I’m able to help my family. You’ve always been the cleverest of us. I’m sure you’ll see that this isn’t so bad. Mr. Hapter’s a decent man; he’ll take care of you.”
Miranda had her own thoughts on what kind of man Martin Hapter was, but she kept them to herself. “I won’t marry him, Tima. I don’t care what kind of man he is; I made an oath to the Court. Any path where I can’t be a Spiritualist is a path I will not take, no matter what it does for my family.”
“Then do it for yourself,” Tima said, gently pulling Miranda up off the bed. “Father has the law on his side, and he will take this to the Council if he has to. The Merchant Prince can make you marry Mr. Hapter if it comes down to it, though by that point Mr. Hapter may not want you anymore. Best do it now with the minimum amount of pain.”
Miranda didn’t answer, and she looked away when Tima tried to turn her head. Her elder sister sighed and
