Spirit’s Oath(16)
“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 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.