“Enough!” Hapter roared, slamming her into the wall.
The moment he touched her, Miranda reached for Eril. The wind flew out with a great whoop, hitting Hapter across the chest so hard he flew backward toward the ghosthound’s cage. She realized her mistake when she caught the glint in the hound’s eyes and grabbed her connection with Eril, turning the wind just before the dog’s claws snatched Hapter out of the air. The new gust blew him onto the ground at her feet, and the ghosthound snapped his teeth in frustration.
“Stop it,” Miranda said, glaring at the hound before turning her eyes to Hapter, who was pushing himself up. “And just so you know, I did that for him”—she nodded at the ghosthound—“not for you. If he’d killed you, your men would have put him down, and that’s far more than you’re worth.”
“Powers, woman,” Hapter wheezed, stumbling to his feet. “Don’t you know who I am? I could buy and sell your miserable life a hundred times over!”
“My life is not for sale!” Miranda cried. “Get that through your head!”
“And when will you get it through your head that you already belong to me?” Hapter said, tugging his jacket straight.
There were other men running through the zoo building, their boots so loud Miranda didn’t need Durn’s warning, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off Hapter. “I belong to no one,” she said as Hapter’s private guard came into the room. “My oaths are to the Court and the spirits. You own nothing of me.”
“There you are wrong,” Hapter said, his thin mouth breaking into a cruel smile. “You are a done deal, Miranda. Bought and paid for, just like him.” He jerked his head toward the ghosthound, who snarled. The sound only sent Hapter’s grin wider, and he glanced at the guard closest to Miranda. “Escort my fiancée to her new room, the one without windows, and see that she stays there. Don’t worry about her spirits. I’ve been informed by a reliable source that, since she’s not acting on behalf of the Court at the moment, she can’t use them except for self-defense from actual bodily harm.” He turned back to Miranda. “And since we’re only doing this to keep her safe, I don’t think there will be a problem, do you, dearest?”
“Why you—” Miranda was unable to finish before the guards moved in. They surrounded her in a ring of muscle, and for several moments, Miranda contemplated letting Durn have his way with them. But Hapter was technically right. She wasn’t acting on the Court’s behalf, which meant her right to use her spirits against others was severely limited, especially considering he was her fiancé. If she wasn’t careful, this could reflect very badly on the Court, and that was a chance she wasn’t willing to take out of temper. So she relaxed and let the guards take her, muttering insults at Hapter the whole way. Behind her, the ghosthound’s growl was loud enough to rattle the stone walls, but he didn’t say another word as the guards escorted her to the house.
Hapter made good on his threat. The room they put her in was right beside his in the interior of the house. It was very nice, but it was clearly a prison with no windows, no fireplace, and a door solid enough to be a vault. She was deposited there without fanfare and left alone all night. When the door finally opened the next morning, Miranda almost wished Hapter had left her to rot.
“Well,” Alma said, shuffling past the guards with a small breakfast tray. “You finally went and did it, didn’t you? Just when I thought there was no possible way you could embarrass me further, you found one. I only wish I could say I was surprised.” She set the tray down on the washstand with a huff. “Your father can’t even bear to hear your name spoken, you know.”
“I don’t really care what Father can or cannot bear,” Miranda said. “I’m the one locked up.”
“And whose fault is that?” Alma snapped. “I get you a rich husband and all you can do is put on like it’s the worst thing in the world. And then, to escape out the window like a-a…” She began to sputter. “Like a thief in the night. Oh, it is not to be borne, Miranda. I’m just glad the wedding’s today. You’ll be married before Hapter can come to his senses.”
“Considering how far he seems to be from his senses, he’s got a long trip ahead of him,” Miranda said.
Alma threw up her hands and marched back to the door. “The maids will be bringing in your dress shortly. I’ll be back to help with your hair, not that you deserve it. The wedding is at midday, so I suggest you take the time to think about the mountain of blessings you’ve decided you’re too good for.”
She gave her daughter a final sniff and stomped out, slamming the heavy door behind her with enough force to rock the water in the washbowl. Miranda just shook her head and walked over to the breakfast tray, devouring what her mother had brought with quiet efficiency. It wasn’t much, just some bread and fruit, and Miranda sighed in disappointment as she picked up the last crumbs with her finger. She needed energy for the plan she’d spent all night on. It had a decent chance of success, but it was going to take a lot out of her. Fortunately, anger more than made up for the small breakfast, and by the time the maids came in with her dress, Miranda was ready.
She stood passively as they dressed her, letting them move her arms like a doll, but her mind wasn’t on her body. She was deep inside herself, sunk nearly to the bottom of the well of her soul. Durn’s solid spirit was with her, the thread of his connection wrapped around her hands like twine as she fed power into him until they were both humming with energy. After the first hour, it was so strong that even the spirit-deaf maids seemed to feel it, but her mother, who’d come as promised to yank Miranda’s hair into an elaborate pile of curls, was completely oblivious. Her running commentary went on without a hitch as Miranda’s power grew, doubling and redoubling. Had Durn’s ring not been hidden on Eril’s chain beneath her dress, it would have lit up the whole room. The maids had already fled without knowing why or what the terrible prickly feeling was, and Miranda was glad to see them go. Fewer people meant fewer chances of things going sour.
Thirty minutes before the wedding, Alma finally left with dire warnings about what would happen if Miranda moved so much as one inch out of place before they came to bring her down. When the guards locked the door behind her, Miranda closed her eyes and plunged herself completely into the last of her preparations. By this point, the power was so large it took all of her attention to hold it in, which was why she didn’t know Hapter was there until he took her hand.
Miranda caught the power with great effort, holding it still as she looked down to see Hapter slipping the tiny opal engagement ring back onto her pinkie.
“Your mother found it in the pocket of your dress,” he said. “It’s not very considerate to leave other people’s gifts lying around.”
Miranda had a lot she’d like to say to that, but she didn’t trust herself to speak with so much power in the air. Instead, she let her hate of him shine through her eyes as he gently took her chin, turning her head side to side.
“You are a pretty thing,” he said at last, smiling. “I think I’ll enjoy bringing you around.”
She bared her teeth just a little, and Hapter’s smile grew wider. He dropped her chin and took her hand again, raising it to his lips. “See you downstairs, wife,” he said, winking at her before he slipped out the door. Miranda watched him go, scrubbing her hand on her dress until all feel of his lips was gone.
When her mother came in ten minutes later to bring her down, Miranda was ready.
“Well,” Alma said, radiant in her green gown. “I see you’re still dressed and the room is still in one piece. Have you decided to make the best of things, then, dear?”