Spirit Binder

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  She shook her head and turned away from him.

  “Theo,” he called, with the sound of her name full of emotion she couldn’t, wouldn’t process.

  She was aware she was being manipulated from multiple directions now. She was aware that there were many things she didn’t understand, and clearly things she’d forgotten, and she was more than a little tired of feeling lost and alone, of not knowing who to trust or who to believe.

  She didn’t know Ren, didn’t know who was talking to him on the other side of the dream, and she wasn’t going to let anyone control her any longer, not even in her dreams.

  “Goodbye, Ren.” She turned and walked out of the ballroom. When she paused to look back, he wasn’t there anymore.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Her magic radiates. She gathers followers just by walking into a room. Those men, those assassins, couldn’t figure out if they wanted to kill her or drop to their knees, and they were programmed to kill by someone powerful enough to block you.”

  “Destroying a mind doesn’t take power or skill.”

  “Not the point right now. You expect me to help you corral her, and yet the roses turn their heads toward her when she laughs, like she’s the bloody sun itself.”

  “Be careful. It’s a fine line between admiration and worship.”

  “Is it? I’ve never been good a towing a dictated line.”

  “Which is exactly what makes you so valuable. Let’s just make certain it stays that way. Let the worshipers worship, while we make sure everything progresses smoothly.“

  “She’s not a puppet.”

  “I’m her mother, don’t you dare sneer at me. You wouldn’t want to be here without my blessing.”

  “Your blessing was never a factor, Apex. Even you don’t outrank a prophecy. Why don’t we consult with Theo? She’s been waiting outside the door for some time.”

  Her mother’s surprise, and then flash of anger, quickly tamped, hit Theo like a physical force as she pressed both of her palms to the library doors and pushed them open.

  Hugh stood by the windows with his back to the door, which, oddly, was the same spot she’d occupied the last time she’d been in the library to confront her mother.

  Rhea was behind her desk. She should really just cut the pretense and get a throne, though maybe she preferred the barrier the large, ornately carved, wood desk provided.

  The tension that shrouded the room only increased as she entered.

  “Theodora, you are awake. Good. Hugh and I were just discussing —”

  “I heard.” She cut off her mother’s attempt to erect a cover story, and then threw herself into a reading chair off to one side of her mother’s desk. From this vantage point, she had eyes on Hugh and her mother, as well as effectively blocking the door.

  “That carpet is following you!” Her mother glared toward the entrance.

  “It is, and I have no idea why you have a problem with it.”

  Hugh half-turned from the window. “The carpet is a prime example.”

  “She spilt blood on that carpet. She isn’t spraying blood indiscriminately.”

  “You look tense, Hugh. Perhaps you need a good spar. I’m sure the captain must have some practice swords we could borrow.”

  Hugh and her mother instantly dropped their bickering, and turned to stare at her with almost identical looks of surprise on their faces.

  “Spar? With swords? With you?” Hugh stuttered.

  “Why not?” she laughed. “Think you can beat me?”

  “I … I … didn’t know you —”

  “She doesn’t,” her mother insisted, and then Theo heard it. Heard her rather provocative offer to Hugh, while, at the same time, she realized she’d never held a sword in her life. She sat bolt upright and tried to trace the thought, the impulse to speak, back to the source.

  Hugh’s shoulders had looked tense … he looked like he knew how to wield a sword … and a good fight always settled her a bit … what? Since when?

  She followed that train of thought all the way down into the dark cavern that was her missing memories. She struggled, and pushed into the darkness — there was a block there — if she could just break it —

  Pain lanced through her head.

  Her entire body clenched and then spasmed.

  She broke the heavy wooden arm off the chair.

  Hugh’s startled face swam in and out of her vision. She clung to the thread — the glimmer — something about a sword, something about strong shoulders.

  She could feel the moment her mother attempted to enter her mind, attempted to calm her, attempted to draw her away from the darkness. She screamed, and mentally shoved her mother away.

  Books exploded from the shelves.

  Her mother fell back.

  Hugh flung himself across her chair as if to shield her with his body.

  The thread snapped. She lost the thought. She lost the memory.

  She came to awareness slung in Hugh’s lap and arms. Her mother was pacing back and forth through strewn books at the edge of her field of vision.

  “She’s awake.” Her mother spun back at Hugh’s pronouncement, and leaned over her.

  She expected anger, she expected chiding, and instead, her mother was excited, almost buzzing with it.

  “Theodora, do you see the books? See what you did?”

  “I see,” she groaned and straightened out of Hugh’s lap. She was still holding the arm of the chair; it was rather heavy. She considered hitting her mother, who was back to pacing, with it, though she wasn’t too sure where the violent thought came from. Hugh took the chair leg away from her with a murmured, “Let’s not mention this.” He meant the display of strength; a mind mage didn’t break arms off chairs.

  “Do you know what this means?” Her mother clasped her hands and looked down at Theo with fervent eyes.

  “It means you will stop trying to control and manipulate me,” she responded, and, with as little assistance from Hugh as possible, gained her feet. “It means you will never enter my mind without my permission.”

  “I was … I was just trying to help.”

  “No one is accusing you of trying to hinder, mother.” Hugh, who stood behind her as if ready to catch her, snorted. “Except Hugh, but I gather you like that about him.”

  Her mother’s smile faded. “You know I have to see you as more than my daughter.”

  “I’ve never questioned your beliefs. I’ve tried to make them my own, but I am not the person you want me to be. I never was. I will not be some sort of figurehead, bred, raised, and controlled by you. I have already lost ten years of my life to your cause.”

  “My beliefs are not a cause. Prophecies are divine. You cannot be questioning —”

  “I am. I am questioning.”

  Her mother fell silent and thoughtful.

  Theo waited, knowing this conversation was just beginning — years later than it should have — and that it would take years to resolve it.

  “Your path is uncertain now. I see that. I understand. You feel lost and misplaced, but it is not memories that will tell you who you are. Just continue to move through this world and you will discover who you are meant to be.”

  “And if I discover I am not who you want me to be?”

  “I have faith. Faith in who I know you to be, and faith in the path my own life has taken.”

  “But I will never just be your daughter. Your first and only born. Of your flesh and blood. Of your love?”

  “You are so much more to me than that.”

  Well, that was an actual answer … not that she was sure where it left her. She turned toward the door. The only reminder of the memory trying to surface was a slight headache and the trashed room.“I’m going to head into the city.”

  “Very well. It will be good for the people to see you. Take six guards. And Hugh.”

  “I’ll take two guards. And Hugh, if he wishes to join me.”
>
  Hugh inclined his head, and murmured, “An honor.” She couldn’t figure out if he was being sarcastic, and once again, she found it odd that she had such a hard time reading him.

  “And I’ll be taking the prisoners.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I spoke with them this morning in the yard.” She’d approached and questioned Sammy and Ambrose after breakfast, and still couldn’t shake her residual horror of their blank expressions and delayed responses.

  “You did what?”

  “They both hail from the city’s boundary areas. I am hoping that some of their family still resides there and will take them in.”

  “I will not allow —”

  “You have no say anymore. You have stripped them back as far as men can go and still function. They barely remember who they are.”

  “What they are is trained to hunt and kill you, Theo.” Hugh inserted himself into the discussion and earned himself a look from her mother. Probably for the use of Theo’s nickname, since he was actually supporting Rhea’s argument.

  “Not anymore. I doubt they can wield a pen, let alone a knife.”

  “Theodora, they must be contained.”

  “They are contained, Mother, by you. I’m going. Are you going to try to stop me?”

  Her mother just stared at her, long enough that Theo had to stop herself from fidgeting, long enough her neck started to ache from having her chin raised so high. Then, inexplicably, her mother smiled.

  “Very well. If this is what you are drawn toward doing, if this is your path, who am I to block it? I trust in divinity. The divinity that feeds your spirit.” And, with that pronouncement, her mother moved back to her desk.

  “That divinity fuels all our spirits,” Theo, rather lamely, retorted, not ready to let the argument go. This only earned her another inexplicable smile from her mother, so she turned away while she still had Rhea’s approval.

  “Hugh?” her mother prompted.

  “By her side. Every second. I don’t need to be directed there,” Hugh said, and he strode forward to close the space between them.

  “I’m not directing, Hugh. Just reminding.”

  “Thank you for your concern, but I don’t need your reminders. I have my own.”

  They walked away, leaving the book-strewn library to her mother. Theo tried not wonder too much about Hugh’s ‘reminders’. There were too many other mysteries to solve. She needed to be in action, not in thought. Though she hoped, just a little, even as she tamped down on the emotion, that Hugh accompanied her out of choice and not obligation or some mystical connection dictated by his prophecy.

  Theo headed toward the stables. She had guards, already selected, and brain-damaged would-be assassins waiting on her. If her mother wanted to attribute that to destiny unfolding, fine. She just believed that no one deserved to be pawns, to lose their lives in someone else's fight. Especially over a prophecy few people could actually interpret … especially over her.

  ∞

  After some concern as to whether or not Sammy and Ambrose would be able to ride — they could at least stay upright on a horse, if not direct it — they headed south.

  Peony joined them at the last minute. Supposedly she had some medicinal herbs to pick up from a trader in the city market, but Theo suspected she might be a bit sweet on the guard Davin, who, along with the Corporal, were accompanying them on the trip. It turned out the Corporal’s first name was Georges, and that he and Hugh seemed to know each other.

  The addition of Peony made them a party of seven, which was no issue on a road as well traveled as the one from Hollyburn Castle to the city, but it wasn’t exactly a peaceful ride. Their pace was slow, to accommodate Sammy and Ambrose’s unsteady seats on their horses. Hugh rode ahead while the guards flanked Theo and Peony. Ambrose and Sammy tagged along after them.

  The road curved through fir and cedar forests, and then alongside craggy granite cliffs as it wound down to the valley below. Peony kept up a steady flow of chatter with Davin, but Georges and Hugh remained silent and watchful.

  Theo tried to not watch Hugh’s effortless riding up ahead. He held the reins completely slack, as if he didn’t actually need them. His horse was indeed a beast up close, easily two hands taller at the shoulder than her stallion. Its coloring a mottled mix of grays and browns, white and blacks. Though, given Hugh’s gift, perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised that he kept such an unusual animal so close.

  ∞

  An earlier conversation, in which it had been difficult to glean any concrete information from Sammy or Ambrose, had eventually determined that Sammy had a sister with a small farm just outside of the city. So that was their first stop. They arrived almost as soon as they’d entered the valley. Florrie, the sister, seemed more pleased with the coin that Theo offered than with her brother’s return. She met them just outside the main farmhouse, which was bordered and decorated with a multitude of flower beds and planters. The flowers were at least a month ahead of season, from which Theo surmised that Florrie was major competition for the Hollyburn gardeners. Dairy cows grazed the nearby fenced fields.

  “I guess it’s to be expected,” Florrie sighed. “He always liked to be contrary. He was the only one of us born without some magic, my lady. I’ve got the touch with plants and flowers and such. My lavender wins the fair every year. Best in the county. It should be ready to harvest by next month. I’d be pleased to send Sammy up to the castle with a bushel.”

  “Oh,” Peony perked up, though she’d previously declined to leave her mount. “That would be lovely, and is that chamomile you are growing over there?”

  “Yes, my lady. Can I cut you a handful?”

  “Oh, yes, please.” Peony swung off her horse with a helping hand from Davin, and followed Florrie over to the plant in question.

  Theo took the moment to speak quietly with Sammy, who’d quickly dismounted at their arrival and wandered off to one side of the drive to gaze at the cows. “Will you be happy here?”

  “Oh yes, my lady. I will. I’ll be happy now.” Though Sammy had pulled his attention away from the cows to look at her, he was still detached, as if it took a while for his thoughts to surface in his mind, and once there, they lost any emotional connection. “But I will see you again, won’t I? I would miss your glow.”

  “Yes, Florrie spoke of sending you to the castle when the lavender blooms.”

  “All will be well then, won’t it?”

  “I hope so. Ambrose? Do you want a moment to say goodbye to Sammy?”

  Ambrose, whose his horse had taken the slack reins as an invitation to graze at the edge of the driveway, seemed to have been watching Theo converse with Sammy, but, as with his friend, his emotions were dampened. He shrugged at her question, and then awkwardly slid off his horse to turn his attention to Sammy. He smiled brightly; the x-scar on his cheek crumbled under this assault. “Sammy,” he declared. “We travel under the protection of the Lady of Light. All will be well.”

  As the two men clasped arms, Hugh raised an eyebrow in her direction. Uneasiness trickled through her, as she guessed she was this supposed ‘Lady of Light’. Had Ambrose come up with the term all on his own? Or had her mother planted yet another obligation for Theo along with a few new thoughts in Ambrose and Sammy’s minds? Perhaps Rhea had always intended for Theo to be addressed thusly and decided, as she busily stripped away their minds, that Ambrose and Sammy were a good opportunity to start a ‘Lady of Light’ campaign.

  Peony and Florrie returned from their flower foraging, and, as Davin helped Peony stow her flowers in her saddle bag and mount her horse, Hugh offered his arm to Florrie with a murmured, “Good tidings.” Florrie, however, only had eyes for Theo.

  “It’s you, then?” Florrie asked with trepidation, as she stepped by Hugh to approach. Georges quickly moved to block Florrie’s forward movement, as if he sensed a threat, but Theo didn’t feel any animosity coming from her. However, guards were usuall
y carefully selected for their sensing and wielding skills, so she wasn’t foolish enough to ignore Georges’s concerns.

  Florrie stumbled in an attempt to halt her forward progress quickly. “I … I don’t … I thought it was you before, with the hair, but I didn’t see why it would be you with Sammy, but now that I see you, now that I look right at you … you aren’t just some lady in fine linens and gold, with a big white horse. No, you’re her. Here in my front yard. It’s a blessing. It’s a … a …” Florrie’s hands fluttered as she grew more and more overwhelmed. Theo became eager to leave her, and Sammy, in peace.

  “You’ll see to Sammy?” Theo asked Florrie’s bowed head, and hoped the woman wouldn’t fall to her knees.

  “Yes, my lady … my Lady of Light …”

  Blast, it was catching, just as all her mother’s rhetoric did; it was a gift to be so eloquent and simple at the same time …

  “He’s my brother,” Florrie continued. “He’ll be well taken care of, and I’ll send you lavender with my tithe.”

  “Thank you.” Theo hurried to mount her horse, only to realize later that she had done so effortlessly, without assistance, for the first time in her remembered life. Hugh and Georges flanked her as she turned her horse away from the farmhouse. Peony, flanked by Davin, and Ambrose followed. Peony called out over her shoulder, “Thank you for the flowers!”

  Florrie, with Sammy in tow, followed them out to the gate and called after them, “We’ll see you at worship, my lady. Praise be.”

  As they continued toward the city, Theo glanced back to see the siblings still standing by the gate. Florrie raised her hand and Theo waved back. Hugh muttered something under his breath that she didn’t hear, but took as a correction of her familiar behavior.

  Suddenly, very eager to be done this outing, she picked up her pace.

  ∞

  ‘Lady of Light’. Yet another title. She never knew whether or not to fight these things, to insist that people call her by her given name. Trouble was, whenever it happened and she chose to insist the contrary, she felt as if she was taking something away, as if she was stripping some sort of faith from people. And yet, she also didn’t want to be known as the ‘Lady of Light’ for the remainder of her life. She didn’t want the expectations that came with being titled. How was she supposed to be some sort of manifestation or representation of Spirit if she didn’t even truly know herself?