“Fantastic,” he muttered, flopping back into the straw. No point in avoiding it since he was already covered. “What a fine mess.”
Fine mess was a pretty way of putting it. Royally screwed was more accurate, or completely bollixed. Eli folded his arms across his chest. They still hurt horribly; so did his legs. Eli clenched his teeth. He hated pain. He also hated being trapped, but he had no one to blame but himself this time. He thought back to the duke’s words in the library, before the pain had become too much. He’d let himself get predictable. How many times had he gotten himself caught? A dozen in five years? Two dozen? He shook his head. Far too many, that was for sure.
“You’re getting lazy,” he muttered at the dark. “Lazy and predictable.”
Saying it actually made him feel worse, but he always tried to be honest with himself. First rule of thievery: If you can’t be honest with yourself, you’ll never fool anyone else. He rolled over, ignoring the horrible cramping in his back. Telling the duke what he wanted was out of the question. Even if he’d asked for something simple, Eli was categorically against bullies. He turned over again, trying to find a way he could lie without feeling like he was crushing something that had already been crushed too many times that day. It wasn’t like he could take another round of the duke’s questioning. He had to escape. Had to, and quickly, and he would get right on that as soon as breathing didn’t feel like swallowing knives.
A while later he was still lying there, warring between making himself move and ignoring the necessity, when he caught a glimpse of light. It flashed red through his closed eyes, but when he snapped them open, the brightness was gone. Instead, the room, which had been pitch black, was now filled with cool, gray light. The itchy straw was gone from under him as well, and he was lying on something soft and yielding. Without warning, a gentle, cool hand touched his face, and Eli sucked in his breath at the burning touch the fingers left behind.
Just when he’d thought things couldn’t get worse.
What? a lovely, musical voice chuckled behind him, No hello?
“Hello,” he said through gritted teeth. “What are you doing here?”
Do I need an excuse? White hands, paler than fresh snow in moonlight, drifted down his chest to settle over his heart. It pains me deeply to see you in trouble, dearest. Does love need a motive to come to the aid of the one she cherishes?
Her voice was piercingly sad. Eli didn’t fall for it for a moment.
The Lady sighed when he didn’t answer, and her fingers ran over Eli’s bruised body, leaving a burning feeling wherever they touched. Look at what that man has done to my beautiful boy. There was anger in her voice now, cold and sharp. All you have to do is say the word and I will avenge you. Open yourself, show these common spirits whom you belong to, and this city will worship you as it should.
“I don’t belong to anyone,” Eli said. “And I don’t want your help.”
The roving hands froze, and suddenly he found himself being whirled around. A terrible strength slammed him to his knees on the floor so that he was facing her as she stood before him, terrifying in all her glory. Perfectly straight white hair tumbled around a white face, spilling over her lovely shoulders, across her lovely body to the floor, where it flowed across the stones like moonlit rivers. Her eyes were pure white, the irises only defined by a shimmer of iridescent silver and the flutter of white lashes. She was naked, but her nakedness was not a shameful thing. Beside her inhuman whiteness, it was Eli who felt exposed.
Wherever her light touched, spirits woke, no matter how small or insignificant, and as they woke, they began to reverence her. The stones, the straw, the iron of the door, the tiny spirits of the air, everything, every bit of the world worshiped at her feet. Yet the White Lady ignored their praises. Her entire focus was on Eli alone. Slowly, gracefully, she reached forward and tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him close until his face was inches from her bare stomach.
You belong to me, she whispered, her voice shivering and terrible. From the moment I saw you, you were mine. It was I who saved you, I who gave you everything you have. Because I love you, I have let you run free, but do not think for a moment that you are anything but mine. She pulled his head up, almost breaking his neck as she brought his face to hers. Do not forget what you are.
“How could I?” Eli said, his voice wheezing with pain. “You keep showing up to remind me. But there’s one thing you’re wrong about,” he said. “I don’t belong to anyone but myself.” The White Lady’s hands trembled, and for a moment, Eli thought she was going to rip his head clean off. Then she began to chuckle. So rebellious, she cooed, ruffling his hair. So arrogant. You haven’t changed at all, have you? Refusing my help when I came all this way to save you. How selfish, but I always loved that about you, dearest boy. She kissed his forehead. Very well, beat yourself bloody if you must. But remember—her hands gripped his head like a vice—whatever you say, you do belong to me. I have been extremely tolerant, but push too hard, darling star, and I will take you back whether you like it or not. Then, things will be as they were before, when you were my darling little boy who loved me more than anything.