“Yeah, right,” Karon hissed, and Eli winced as his burn began to ache with the lava spirit’s anger. “Well, I’ll just leave you to your misery, then, favorite. When you’re done sulking, let me know, and we’ll figure out how to beat this together. Until then, I’m going to sleep. Maybe this will all turn out to be a dream.”
“I didn’t know spirits had dreams,” Eli grumbled into the bed.
“We don’t,” Karon said. “But I’d kill for one right now. Anything to get out of here.”
Eli closed his eyes as the lava spirit sank into him and fell into a grumbling sleep. Karon was probably right. He probably should be planning an escape, or at least a new plot to get Benehime to let him go of her own will again, but he just couldn’t summon up the energy to care. He could almost feel Benehime’s hand on his throat. She had him good and tight now, and every time he tried to think about the future, all he could see was endless white.
He’d been so arrogant, thinking he could run forever. He’d forgotten the first rule of thievery: no one runs forever. That was why you had to fence your goods and move on. But he’d just kept running, thinking he was smart, thinking he could do it all on his own. Now Josef’s island was destroyed, Nico was nearly dead, Mellinor was lost, and that was just the tip of the iceberg of things that were his fault.
Unbidden, his mind went back to that day in the forest when he’d tricked Benehime into letting him go. He’d thought of that moment daily since then, usually with pride. His freedom was what he’d always fought for, but now he saw that first con in a different light. If he’d known how bitterly things would end, would he still have made the deal?
Eli rolled violently, kicking the wall with his feet. He didn’t like the way this was going, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He tossed and turned, throwing the white jacket into the corner. As always, the temperature in the Between hovered just slightly cooler than was pleasant, but he couldn’t stand having her white all over him. He flopped over again, slamming his head angrily into the soft, white pillow and found himself facing Benehime.
She was sitting in front of her sphere exactly as she’d been since he lay down. Her profile was toward him, probably so she could keep an eye on him while she watched the world, he realized sourly. But her eyes weren’t looking at him now. They were locked on the sphere, and her mouth was moving.
Eli’s eyes darted back and forth, but he didn’t see anyone, not even the Lord of Storms. Didn’t hear anything, either. Thankful to have something to puzzle over besides his own misery, he scooted to the edge of the bed to get a better look.
It was night inside the glistening globe. The sea was dark and calm, the mountains still. The moon rode high in the sky, its light a pale reflection of Benehime’s own as her hands rested on the curve of the sky. Her gaze was fixed on the ocean, but other than her mouth, she wasn’t moving at all. After five minutes of this, Eli was about to dismiss the whole thing as another of her eccentricities when her lips stopped moving, curving instead into a smile that turned his blood to ice water.
Without warning, her hands pressed down, passing through the sphere’s sky like she was pressing through the surface of a soap bubble. Her white fingers turned transparent the second they entered, but Eli could still make out the edges of her hands as they descended through the night and plunged into the dark sea below.
Eli watched in stunned silence as Benehime reached into the sea up to her elbows, going down so far that her fingers must have scraped the very bottom of the ocean floor. Her hands fished around for a moment, and then Eli saw her muscles clench, tightening her fingers into a fist. Her sickening smile grew wider as Benehime began to pull.
And that was when her eyes moved toward Eli.
Only years spent as a thief let him react fast enough. In the blink of an eye he was asleep, his body splayed, his breaths even and deep, his eyes closed. The white world was silent, but he didn’t dare move. He stayed that way until his muscles were aching from stress. Only when he was sure not even Benehime could draw a connection between the movement and what had just happened did he risk a look.
Body as slack as a rag, he rolled over, cracking his eyes as he did. Benehime was sitting exactly as she had been before, but her hands were at her sides now, and her mouth was closed in a quiet smile. The sphere floated same as always, and though the ocean looked a little choppy, there was no other sign that anything had happened.
Frowning, Eli turned again, trying for a better look, but then Benehime glanced at him. This time he didn’t have a chance to fake, so instead, he caught her eye and gave her a sleepy blink. She smiled indulgently and mouthed, Sleep.
Eli nodded and turned to lie on his back. His heart was thudding in his chest, but he kept his eyes closed. His whole body was wired, and he didn’t feel the least bit sleepy. Even so, he forced his breathing to remain deep and even. He was a good dog now. Good dogs obeyed their mistresses.
Just the thought made him feel ill, but Eli kept it to himself. He lay perfectly still, focusing on his breaths until exhaustion finally took him for real, and he fell into a deep sleep full of white, terrifying dreams.
The minute he drifted off, Benehime rose from her seat beside the sphere, walking silently to stand over her sleeping favorite. When she reached him, she laid her hands on the invisible wall. When Eli didn’t stir, Benehime’s face broke into a wide, sharp smile. Without a sound, her hands passed through the barrier and began to descend toward Eli’s bare chest.
And in his safe haven beneath Eli’s skin, Karon began to scream, but it made no sound at all.
CHAPTER
3
It was midnight when Gin finally trotted through the white gates of Zarin and started up the hill toward the Spirit Court’s Tower. Miranda clung to his back, blinking blearily at the rowdy late-night crowd scrambling to make way for her panting ghosthound. Gin’s trot slumped to a walk as they got closer, but Miranda didn’t try to speed him up. The dog was exhausted. With the run down from the mountains and then the mad dash to Osera and now a night run back to Zarin… well, even ghosthounds had limits.
Of course, Miranda wasn’t doing much better. She’d spent seven hours clutching Gin’s back for dear life as the hound forced his way through roads crowded with soldiers and Oseran refugees. Add to that the hours she’d spent reaching in vain for Mellinor this morning and the battle before that and she was wrung out completely. Clinging to Gin as they wove through the Zarin streets, she felt fragile and stretched, but as the Tower’s moonlit spire came into view, she forced herself to sit straight. She had work to do. Banage had entrusted her with the fate of the Spirit Court. She could not let him down.
When they reached the gate separating the Spirit Court’s district from the rest of Zarin, she motioned for Gin to stop. He lay down for her to dismount and didn’t get up again as she stretched the ride out of her joints.
“Good work,” Miranda said, rubbing the short, coarse fur on the bridge of Gin’s muzzle. “The stables should still be open. Go and get some sleep. I’ll have them bring you a pig as soon as I can.”
“Two pigs,” Gin said and groaned, pushing himself up one last time. “Fat ones.”
“Fat ones,” Miranda promised as the ghosthound walked slowly between the buildings and toward the stables, his patterns swirling sluggishly.
When she was satisfied he would make it to the stables without falling over, Miranda turned and started down the wide boulevard toward the Tower itself. The Spirit Court’s district was silent and empty. All the non- wizards who made a living serving the Court’s human needs had distanced themselves as soon as the Court fell into the Council’s bad graces. The wind whistled between the closed-up buildings, rattling the bolted shutters with a lonely sound. Ahead, the Tower rose like a white bone from the ground, smooth and straight and, Miranda saw with dismay, still sealed against the world, just as Banage had left it after his confrontation with Whitefall’s army.
She climbed the wide steps with trepidation. The great red doors were still lying where they had fallen. In their place, the Tower’s grand entry was a smooth wall of stone. Hesitantly, Miranda laid her knuckles against the cold rock, tapping the Rector’s ring against the Tower’s surface.
Nothing happened.
