stood, setting the flower-woven marriage crown on the bed. “I have to go to lunch,” she said. “I’ll tell them you are unwell and get someone to send up a tray for you.”
“Thank you,” Miranda said, gazing out the window.
Tima’s soft steps crossed the floor, and then the door closed with a whisper. Miranda waited for the click of the lock, but all she heard was Tima’s footfalls on the carpet as her sister walked to the stairs. Miranda smiled, shaking her head. Sweet Tima wasn’t one to forget things, but she also wasn’t the sort who could lock up her sister like a criminal. Not that a locked door could have kept Miranda in had she really wanted to get out, but she appreciated her sister’s gesture. Tima had left her an escape. Too bad Miranda couldn’t take it.
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 fiancee, 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
