The Spirit Thief(24)

“You can’t just give that, that thief what he wants!” Miranda sputtered.

Renaud sighed. “You see, this is precisely why we cannot accept your help. How could we trust our king’s life to someone who values it so cheaply?”

Miranda flinched, getting a firm grip on her rage. “It’s not about the money,” she said, calmly now. “Don’t you see this is exactly what he wants? Think about it: by demanding you pledge thirty-five thousand to his bounty, Eli ensures that Mellinor has a hefty stake in keeping him uncaught. He’s using this country as a safety net. If you just give in like this, think about what kind of signal you’ll be sending other would-be thieves. Eli is an innovator, but he’s not the only wizard thief. If he is successful, others will surely follow his lead. Doing this could make Mellinor a target for years to come, and your policy against wizards leaves you helpless.”

“But you forget,” Renaud said, folding his hands behind his back, “Mellinor has its own wizard now.”

“Being born a wizard doesn’t mean you have the skills to fight one. What if Eli double-crosses you? Did you think about that? If he decides to take the money and not return your king, do you really think you could stop him?”

“Your concern for our well-being is touching,” Renaud said, “but such matters are no longer yours to worry about.” He walked casually to the door and held it open. “You’ll find whatever provisions you need in the kitchens. If that dog of yours is half of what they say, you should be able to make it over the border by nightfall.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I sincerely suggest you make all haste. I might not feel so generous tomorrow, should you be caught on our lands.”

Miranda stood her ground. “I am not one to be dismissed so easily.”

“But you are a member of the Spirit Court,” Renaud said, “and you are bound by your oaths not to interfere in internal kingdom affairs. You could be stripped of your position if you push this much further.” His smile turned cruel. “Isn’t that so, lady Spiritualist?”

It was all Miranda could do not to strangle the smug lordling with his own flowing hair. Her spirits picked up her tension and began to murmur in their gems. For a wild moment, she was on the edge of opening up and showing him the difference between a Court-trained Spiritualist and a self-taught brat. Slowly, methodically, she clamped down on the impulse. She turned and walked out of the room, but when she reached Renaud, she stopped and whispered in a low, cutting voice, “This isn’t over.”

“No,” Renaud whispered back. “I believe it is.”

Miranda stomped past him and into the still-crowded throne room, boot heels clicking angrily against the marble. The waiting masters scrambled to get out of her way, which made her feel a hair better, until she heard Renaud politely call after her: “Good day, Spiritualist.”

She didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.


Renaud waited until the Spiritualist was completely out of sight before he shut the door. “Are you sure that was wise?” asked an amused voice from the corner.

Renaud jumped before he could stop himself. “Must you do that?”

Coriano was already sitting on the silk couch when the prince turned, his boots propped up on the low table and his wrapped sword laid across his knees. He gave Renaud a smile and waved at the chair across from him. “Sit.”

Renaud remained standing. “You were saying?”

Coriano shrugged and put his hands behind his head. “I was just asking if you didn’t come across a little too brash with the whole ‘I might not feel so generous tomorrow’ bit. I gave you all the information you’d need to trap her with her own vows. There was no need to push her further. Old man Banage taught her how to put up a cold front, but anyone can see she’s got a mean temper inside. After that display, I wouldn’t be surprised if she really did leave tonight, just to spite you.”

“She won’t,” Renaud said. “One thing I do know about Spiritualists is that they all share the same debilitating sense of duty. If she’s been sent here to do a job, she won’t leave until it’s done.” He eyed the man cautiously. “Why do you care? I thought all you wanted was Eli’s swordsman.”

“Yes.” Coriano’s bored voice hid a dangerous edge. “But that will be hard if you flub your part sporting with something as volatile as Spiritualist pride.” The swordsman’s gloved fingers drifted gently along the wrapped hilt of his sword and he gave the prince a sideways look. “You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for his chance, wizard. If you play games with this, we will gut you before you see us coming.”