Spirit's Oath Read Online Free Page B

looking out over his guests like a foreman surveying his crew.
    “I’ve never cared for them, either,” he said. “Dreadful waste of time.”
    “If that’s how you feel, why did you set up a tournament?” Miranda said, edging down the wall to put a bit more distance between herself and her host.
    Martin shrugged. “It’s the sort of thing they expect from a house party.” He glanced at her. “But since card games don’t appeal to you, Miss Lyonette, perhaps you’d like a tour of the rest of the house?”
    Miranda frowned. A tour did sound much more interesting than watching a bunch of overdressed snobs play cards. However, “Why are you asking me?”
    “Because you look bored,” Martin said with a confident smile. “And because I feel it best that we get to know each other a little.”
    Miranda didn’t like that answer at all, but she couldn’t think of a polite way to say no, which was how she ended up walking with Martin Hapter through the rest of his ridiculous house.
    It wasn’t boring, at least. Every corner was a treasure trove of interesting things, though Martin’s apparent fascination with trophy hunting left a bad taste in her mouth. Each room seemed to have a dead animal as its crowning feature, and Martin would always stop to tell the story of how he’d acquired this pelt or that head. The first couple weren’t so bad, but by the time they exited to walk through the gardens, Miranda was very happy to be outside where the weather made displaying taxidermy impossible.
    Martin’s gardens were as eclectic as everything else, a vibrant mix of plants from all over the Council Kingdoms as well as a hothouse full of tropical plants from the pirate isles in the far south. Miranda would have slowed down for a better look, but Martin hurried her past the flowers toward a building at the garden’s edge.
    “I think you’ll really like this next part,” he said as they left the garden. “The rest of the stuff is just curiosities. I keep my real collection in here.”
    The side building was one story, long and low as it wrapped around the edge of the garden. It was white like the house, but there was no glass in its windows. Instead, they were high off the ground and laced with ironwork so artistic, you almost didn’t notice the bars. The walls were very thick as well, and the doors were heavy wood held closed by bolts set into the stone floor. A servant undid the bolts as Martin approached, holding the doors open for his master, who in turn held out his arm for Miranda. That was a step too far even for politeness, and Miranda walked right past him only to stop at the threshold.
    The first thing that hit her was the strong smell of animal and hay, but this place wasn’t a barn. It wasn’t the docile smell of horse or cow, but the sharper, bloodier smell of creatures that lived on meat. The building was divided into cells with a wide, straw-strewn hallway down the middle. The cells were walled in with stone and the same lovely iron bars from the windows. Low growls drowned out the gentle wind and birdsong from outside, and Miranda caught her breath.
    “Don’t be afraid, Miss Lyonette,” Martin said.
    “Spiritualist,” Miranda corrected, giving him a wary glare. “Spiritualist Lyonette.”
    Martin smiled and started walking down the hall. “As I was saying, the cages are quite strong. It’s perfectly safe. Now”—he smiled at her—“come see my jewels.”
    Against her better judgment, Miranda followed. Not surprisingly, considering the smell, the cages held exotic predators. The first contained a pair of silver foxes panting miserably in the heat, their dark eyes dull and reproachful as they glared at their captor. The moment Miranda and Martin stopped in front of the bars, Martin launched into the grand story of how his hunters had trapped the mated pair. The tale itself wasn’t so different from all the other stories he’d told walking through the house, but here in among the cages,