The Spirit Thief(95)

She nodded languidly. It all seemed very sensible. “Where are you going now?”

“If I told you, it would be no fun at all.” Eli smiled. He reached into his jacket and pulled out something white and square, which he tucked into Miranda’s skirt pocket. “Sleep well, little Spiritualist,” he said, standing up with a wink. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

Miranda nodded peaceably and closed her eyes. Within seconds, everything but the lovely sound of the rain had fallen far away, and she slipped easily into a deep, dreamless sleep.





CHAPTER 28





Miranda woke slowly, her mind rising like a bubble from her deep sleep. Below her, Mellinor was still sleeping, his currents deep and calm at the bottom of her awareness. She let him be and drifted upward, the dandelion fluff of her thoughts coming and going on their own time. Everything felt wonderful, like she was floating in a warm, lavender-scented cloud while someone played music in the distance. She winced, off-key music. Unbearably off key. Her thoughts began to thicken into consciousness, falling into place while worries filled the cracks between them. Suddenly, she wasn’t quite as comfortable. She hovered for a moment on the edge of sleep, fretting, and finally decided that if she was awake enough to fret about waking she might as well go all the way. At least then she could stop the awful music.

She opened her eyes to find herself buried at the center of a large feather bed. An elderly maid dozed in a chair by the bed’s foot, her soft snores stirring the dust motes that hung suspended in the honeyed sunlight pouring down from the high windows. The awful music came from behind a large folding screen, which split the already small room in half. Miranda shifted experimentally, and she jumped as something heavy rolled across her chest. With some effort, she freed one of her hands from the tightly tucked sheets and groped clumsily across the comforter. After a few uncertain moments, her fingers closed around a soft leather pouch filled with the heavy, familiar shapes of her rings. An incredible feeling of relief rushed through her, and she sighed contentedly. At the sound, the sleeping maid leaped from her chair.

“Lady,” she clucked, shuffling across the thick carpet to pull the sheets tighter. “Please do not move.”

“Is she awake?” an excited voice called from behind the screen. There was a shuffle, and then King Henrith came bounding into view, a handsome but sloppily tuned tenor vikken dangling from his left hand. His cheeks and neck were wrapped in white bandages and there was an angry gouge across the bridge of his nose, but otherwise he looked quite well compared to the last time she’d seen him. The maid backed away reverently as he approached, and Miranda sank a little deeper into the bed.

“I was hoping you’d wake up during one of my visits,” the king said, grinning. “Of course, I haven’t been able to visit very often. Things have been busy, but I did think you’d enjoy some music.” He held up the poor vikken by its strings. “How did you like my—”

“It was lovely,” Miranda cut in. “How long have I been like this?”

“Well,” the king said and scratched the top of his chin, which was the only section of his beard that wasn’t covered in bandages. “Three days, I think. Really, it feels longer.”

“Three days?” She clutched her ring bag. “Eli is gone, I take it?”

“Yes,” Henrith said, sounding annoyed, “and all the loose gold with him, what wasn’t melted to slag, anyway. Honestly, I don’t think we could have expected better. I was more distracted by the state of the room and, of course, you and my brother. We thought you were dead as well, but your beast told us that you were merely suffering from exhaustion, so I asked one of the girls—”

“Gin told you?” Miranda sat up in a rush, but the pain that shot through her skull at the movement sent her right back down again.

“Well, he didn’t tell us exactly.” The king sat down on the nightstand. “One of the other wizard chaps spoke with him.”

“Other wizards…” Miranda closed her eyes. This conversation was veering rapidly in directions she didn’t think her battered mind could handle right now. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Could you start over? From the beginning, please.”

“There’s not much to it,” the king said. “They arrived right after I did. That night, when the shaking started and your dog ran off, I just couldn’t stay put. I kept hearing these awful sounds. It was like the forest itself was trying to get away from something.”

Miranda remembered the terrifying aura of Nico’s uninhibited powers and shuddered. The king didn’t seem to notice.