Spirit Binder (7 page)

“I suppose we should talk.” Rhea had found her, though it seemed she’d needed Hugh to do so, which was odd. Her mother had always been able to track her before, and Hugh’s ability to do so now was puzzling. She had retreated, once again, to the west-facing balcony in the unused wing of the castle in an attempt to get away from her mother’s interrogation of the would-be assassins. Even at this distance, she had to struggle to block the psychic backlash.

“Why talk when you can just rip through my mind, retrieve what you want, and render me compliant and useless afterwards?”

Her mother sighed, like someone with an actual heart would, but then turned a dismissive look Hugh’s way. He actually hesitated momentarily before leaving. Standing up to her mother was impressive, but Theo would be more flattered if she thought he was doing so to protect her, rather than just generally defying anyone who had any bit of control over his actions.

He left, though not before narrowing his eyes in Theo’s direction for a moment. She felt like squinting back at him, just to be childish, but then remembered she wasn’t supposed to be sixteen anymore.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Hugh — she could see that there were now double the guards posted in the hall — Rhea lowered herself onto the bench beside Theo, though she sat facing into the room rather than the ocean and the mountain view.

Her mother sighed again, and Theo gathered she was supposed to feel sorry for her, for the weight of the world, and the ordeal of a brain-damaged daughter, that sat upon her shoulders. But she was still shaking from the force with which her mother, once she’d hit the barriers placed in the would-be assassins minds, had ripped through and seemingly shredded their very spirit … all because she’d gone wandering. An extreme reaction — protective, not only of her daughter, but also of her nation — though not unexpected. No, it was she, not her mother, who was to blame. She should have acted on the cliff. She should have given the men a little nudge, perhaps back to their lives before the mysterious Preacher had enthralled them, but she’d been scared. Too scared to do anything more than just wander about the estate. Scared of being incomplete, of being only half herself. And Hugh, having somehow been alerted to her absence from the castle, had been forced to step in.

Theo had come to understand, while desperately trying to block out the magical backlash of her mother’s interrogation, that she was missing more than just ten years of memories. She was missing some other vital part of her spirit.
 

“Are they dead, then?”

“They tried to kill you, Theodora.”

“They didn’t get very far with it.”

Another world-weary sigh. Theo didn’t think she’d ever heard so much emotion from her mother; ever. She decided to change the subject. She could discover the fate of the men on her own, later …

“And why do you need Hugh to track me? And how is it that he can, if you can’t. Is it some part of his magic?”

Her mother shifted, more than just uncomfortable from the stone seat. “I suppose we should talk about Hugh as well.” But then Rhea fell silent, long enough that Theo considered trying to get a peek into her thoughts. Not that she was stupid enough to think that any attempted invasion of her mother’s mind wouldn’t be a terribly painful idea.

Finally, her mother spoke, and, oddly, she momentarily missed the silence that had stretched between them in this peaceful place where the jasmine was still blooming and everything didn’t seem quite so out of her control.

“I wouldn’t have chosen marriage for you.”

“You would have me be a pristine figurehead for the Worship of Spirit.”

“Snorting is not terribly ladylike, Theodora, but yes, I believe you would be more powerful, more devoted to Spirit, unencumbered.”

“As you have been.”

“I have you. Just as destiny shaped my life, it will shape yours. One cannot argue with prophecy.”

“Read by Hugh’s father.”

“Verified, as you already know, by a number of outside sources. I don’t take my responsibly lightly.”

True, her mother never did anything lightly. She was more doggedly focused.

“But they are different,” Theo said. “Hugh’s and my prophecies. And no one has ever bothered to tell me the exact wording of his.”

“Not only do you already know there is no such thing as exact wording when it comes to prophecies, but it is also not yet your place to know anything of Hugh’s reading.”

“Is it so childish of me to want to understand a destiny that is being forced upon me?”

“No, darling, though it pains me to hear you phrase it that way. I can tell you that Hugh’s prophecy never changes. Every reader arrived at the same conclusions. Perhaps it was unkind of me … but … I even had him read when you went missing … and yesterday.”

“Yesterday!”

“Yes, darling. I am just trying to protect you.”

“But prophecies never change. Why would you force him to be read so many times? You know how invasive it is!”

Rhea turned to look at her, and Theo was startled to see so much of herself reflected in her mother’s face; she’d always thought she looked more like a female version of her father, who’d been killed when she was very young.

“Prophecy can come in layers.”

“Layers?”

“Yes, as you age, as you experience life.”

“Are you saying my prophecy has changed?”

“No, darling. It was Hugh’s that … concerned me. It is his prophecy that ties him to you.”

“But not mine to him?”

“They are … it seems the Chancellor believes that one cannot exist without the other, though they are different.”

“But you’ve spent some time trying to figure out how to interpret them separately.”

“Yes, but this is not common knowledge.”

“I imagine I am the only one who knows.”

“And Jamin, naturally.” Jamin was Peony’s father, and her mother’s chief counselor. He was a sensitive, though not a prophecy reader, who often oversaw the Rite of Passage ceremony for the youth of the castle.

Her mother stood up, and Theo realized the conversation had ended without any real answers.

“Wait!”

“I’m tired. So tired, darling. I just wanted to see that you were okay.” Her mother continued toward the door.

“Mom, please.” That, interestingly, stopped Rhea, and she turned back with her hand resting lightly on the door handle. “Why is it that you cannot track me now, when I could never hide from you before?”

“You’ve grown more powerful. Your shielding is strong. I can feel you within the castle, unquestionably. Your magic is everywhere. We’ll have to talk about that when you are feeling better.” Her mother eyed the carpet, which had found Theo the moment she’d reentered the castle. “But I cannot pinpoint you now.”

“But Hugh can?”

“You’ll have to discuss that with him.” Another not-so-subtle way of reminding her that everyone’s magic was his or her own business. Her mother opened the door and stepped through. The guards shifted to accommodate her, but did not look at Rhea or into the room. They were well-trained, oddly enough, by her Uncle Dougal, though they then swore an oath to her mother.

“Mom? The tracking device the … would-be assassins carried?”

“I know,” her mother whispered from the hall without looking at her.

“Such a thing could only work if —”

“Powered by something of yours, a piece of clothing, hair —”

“Blood.” Her mother’s head shot up to meet Theo’s eye. Rhea shook her head, and then looked pointedly at the guards. Blood magic was illegal in Cascadia, and had been for the entirety of Rhea’s reign as Apex. Theo had heard of some wielders adhering to the old ways and still using their own blood to fortify their weapons. In such cases, the captain of the guard usually chose to look the other way. But healers and spellcasters were severely punished for mixing blood into their spells, no matter the intention. “You think someone in the castle? Close enough to get a sample?”

“They wouldn’t have needed to be that close; you were rather generous when you first arrived.” Her mother looked pointedly, and distrustfully, at the magic carpet.

“Iggy wouldn’t betray me.”

“You’ve named the carpet?” Even tired, her mother could raise a rather intimidating brow.

Theo deflected her mother’s disapproval by answering, “In the tunnel —”

“It seems the tunnel was exceedingly well-cleaned,” Rhea answered. “It could also have been collected from before you returned. I could have been mistaken in my assessment of who held you, perhaps. Except …”

“Except what?”

“Except the device was very accurate. I sense … actually Jamin senses, that your magic might be a bit different since you woke.”

“Different how?”

“How am I to know, darling? It’s your magic. Your spirit is damaged, undoubtedly. And I thought it might have made a difference to the accuracy of such a … sophisticated … charm.”

“I was unaware that the creation of such was now common place.”

“You know such transmutation is highly unusual, Theodora,” Rhea sighed, and lifted a hand as if to rub her temple, but then thought better of it. “Your blood, if indeed it was used, transformed the rock into something that almost seems to have its own will.”

“Then the Preacher is not someone to be taken lightly.”

“Is that what you think of me? That I wasn’t able to keep you safe before, so now I shall surely fail you again?”

“Hugh said —”

“Why would I put any credence into drunken tales overheard in a public house when I didn’t even know where you were? How was I to protect you then? Some days I feared … I feared I’d lost you, that you may even be dead, though I felt like I would have known.”
 

“I’m sorry.”

“None of this is anything you need to be sorry or worried about. I will take care of it all. I have already tasked Jamin such.”

Her mother turned away and she let her go, though she did wonder why she hadn’t chosen to use the assassin’s tracking device, rather than Hugh, to find her this evening.

“It was spelled to the user,” her mother answered. “It doesn’t work for me. Yet.” So much for respecting each other’s thoughts. “Plus it is always better to keep Hugh where I can see him, as I am certain you will discover.”

Hmmm, that wasn’t annoyingly intriguing at all …

“And darling, If you don’t want me eavesdropping then don’t project so loudly.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight, Theodora.”

∞

Theo snuck down to the dungeons. Yes, she’d been heading to bed, but she’d taken a wrong turn or two, deliberately, and found herself in the hallway leading to the prisoner cells. The carpet followed her, and she could almost feel the chastising energy radiating off of it; though perhaps she was projecting. What did she hope to accomplish — other than scaring herself further — by seeing her two would-be assassins?

The guards allowed her to pass without commenting, or even looking at her too closely but, honestly, that was kind of the deal around here; the not-looking-directly-at-her. Familiarity doesn’t beget worship, according to her mother. The guards did have a bit of an issue with the carpet. It wasn’t as sly as it thought.

She wasn’t sure what she’d find. Gibbering messes of humanity perhaps, but certainly not two men, sleeping what seemed to be peaceful, dreamless slumbers.

Their cells weren’t even locked.

She hovered in the hall between the two cells for a moment, unsure why she’d even come and then she settled and opened her mind, just a little bit.

Hugh immediately registered, as he had from the moment he’d entered the castle, but it seemed he’d retreated to the stables. Theo was careful not to think of or touch on him too long in case he felt her presence in his mind. He’d made it very clear he considered her an obligation, and why wouldn’t he?

She shifted her focus to the two men sleeping in front of her, but didn’t glean much from them other than their names; Sammy, a confirmation of what she already knew, and the traitor-marked was Ambrose. What she could clearly see was the damage her mother had inflicted. It appeared as dark slashes across veins of light that ran throughout each man’s very being. It was mostly concentrated in the area of their brains. Though some of these mental scars looked older, more ridged than others, so perhaps her mother wasn’t the only mage who’d ravaged the men’s minds.

Looking at Sammy and Ambrose’s energy made Theo wonder if her own brain was slashed up with dark ridges impeding the light ones. Then she wondered if she could somehow show such things to Peony and help the healer to fade those scars as well.

Ambrose shifted in his sleep, but if he was dreaming, or even capable of dreaming anymore, she couldn’t see.

She left the men before she gave in to the urge to wake them to judge the ramifications of the damage, and returned to the guards.

“Were the prisoners on their feet when they were brought in?”

“My lady?” The shorter of the two, whose thoughts indicated his name was Davin, spat at her in his surprise at being spoken to. Thankfully, he raised a hand to his mouth to catch the bulk of the spit before it rained on her.

The second guard, the one she should have addressed, as she could now see by his stripes that he ranked higher, smacked the now choking Davin on the shoulder. “Eyes front!” Davin had indeed been staring at her, but it was the polite thing to do when being addressed. Unless the addresser was some sort of deity-on-earth according to her mother. Then it was rude.

The second guard, a corporal, was better mentally shielded than Davin, and wore his rank as his mental identifier instead of his name. He answered her question. “No, my lady. They were hovered in, but seemed physically unharmed, if that is your concern.”

“Well, they wouldn’t be physically harmed, would they?”

“No, my lady.” The Corporal had the decency to sound chagrined.

“Will they be woken?”

“Yes, my lady. At sunrise for breakfast, and then exercise, if they choose.”

“Very well. I’ll check on them then.”

“My lady?”

“None of your concern, Corporal.”

“Yes, my lady.” He’d met her eyes momentarily when he was startled, but he quickly dropped them.