It was dim, but not dark. Gray light filtered down through the cracks overhead and through the wide mouth of the cave that looked out over the ocean. Little ripples of shells and sea grass on the sand marked the high-tide line, filling the cavern with the smell of salt and rotting seaweed. Gin landed neatly on the hard sand and turned away from the roaring sea, trotting up toward the back of the cave where a small, sad fire sputtered on a pile of damp driftwood. Beside it, hunched over in a little ragged ball, was his mistress.
He dropped the rabbit in the sand beside the fire and sat down.
“Food,” he said. “For when you’re done moping.”
Miranda glared at him between her folded arms. “I’m not moping.”
“Could have fooled me,” Gin snorted.
She reached for the rabbit, but just before her fingers touched the torn fur, Gin scooted it away with his paw.
“Are you ready to talk about where we’re going next?”
Miranda sighed. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Gin’s orange eyes narrowed. “So we’re just going to live out our lives in a sea cave?”
“Until I can think of somewhere better,” Miranda snapped. “We’re fugitives, remember?”
“So what?” Gin said. “If anyone is actually looking for us, it’s probably Banage trying to set this mess straight.”
“This isn’t Banage’s problem,” Miranda said, meeting Gin’s eyes for the first time. “I was the one who decided to do things the hard way, and I failed.” She buried her head in her arms again. “If I can’t be a good Spiritualist, then at least I’ll be a good outcast and vanish quietly, not make a scene to embarrass the Court further.”
Gin shook his head. “Do you even hear how ridiculous you’re being? Do you think it’ll make everything better if you keep playing dutiful Spiritualist to the end?”
“Supporting the Spirit Court is my duty!” Miranda cried. “I’m not playing, mutt.”
“No,” Gin said. “You’re hiding and licking your wounds. What good are you to the Spirit Court if you’re only using it as a reason to run away?”
“Run away?” Miranda’s head snapped up. “I don’t get to just stop being a Spiritualist, Gin! I have oaths! I have obligations!”
“Exactly,” Gin said. “But to us first. I thought you’d already made this decision back in Zarin, but now I’m not so sure. What matters more, Miranda, the Spirit Court or the spirits? Will you deny your oaths to us to save Banage’s honor? Would he even want you to?”
Miranda looked away, and Gin stood up with a huff. “Just remember, you’re doing no one any good hiding in this hole,” he growled, trotting toward the cave entrance. “Eat your rabbit. Next time you get hungry, you can go out and catch your own dinner.”
Miranda stayed put until he left. When his shadow vanished into the sea spray, she grabbed the rabbit and began to dress it.
Stupid dog, she thought.
She skewered the rabbit on a stick and arranged it over the coals. Gin might be a particularly perceptive dog, but he was still a dog, and he didn’t understand. If she made a scene, things would only get worse for Master Banage, and that would be intolerable. Banage had been the one trying to help her, as always, and she’d thrown it back in his face. As Miranda saw it, she had only one option left, one final duty: disappear, fade into the world, and never give Hern another inch of leverage against her master.
Miranda sat back against the cave wall, digging her fingers into the hard-packed sand as the rabbit began to sizzle. Outside, the gray ocean crashed and foamed, throwing cold spray deep into the cave. She grimaced. Gin was right about one thing: They couldn’t stay here forever. She had no spare clothes, no blankets, and she was filthy with sea grime and sand. Even her rings had cataracts of salt on them. Still, she didn’t know where else to run, or what to do when she got there. When she tried to imagine life separated from the Spirit Court, her mind went blank.
She supposed that was understandable. She’d been in the Spirit Court since she was thirteen, and from the moment she’d taken her vows the Court had been her life. That, she’d always suspected, was the main reason Banage had accepted her as his apprentice over all the others. She was only one who would work the hours he worked. But she’d done it gladly, because when she was doing the Spirit Court’s work, she felt as if she was doing something that mattered, something worthwhile. It gave her purpose, meaning, confidence. Now, without the Court, she felt like a block of driftwood bobbing on the waves, going nowhere.