Powers, he thought, rolling over as he curled into a ball, clutching his knees against his chest as he fought to get the burning feel of her off his skin. Powers, did he hate her.
“She’s getting pushier,” Karon whispered, his rumbling voice vibrating up from Eli’s chest. “You better watch yourself. You might be the favorite, but it’s unwise to push the Lady too far.”
Eli squeezed his eyes tighter as he tried to find the words to tell his lava spirit that not pushing wasn’t an option. Whatever she said, whatever she threatened, he couldn’t go back. Not ever. Not to her. It wasn’t just giving up his freedom, or the way she touched him whether he wanted to be touched or not. It wasn’t even the fear, or the constant feeling of walking on eggshells whenever she was around for fear of sparking her terrible temper. No, what he hated most was the feeling of being owned.
The moment she’d decided he was her favorite, his life had stopped being his own, and from the time he’d been old enough to understand what that loss meant, what she really was, he’d been fighting to get away from her. He’d lied and conned and traded everything he had, his entire future, for the limited freedom he enjoyed now. But the slack she’d released into his leash depended on his continued ability to make it on his own. That was their wager; that was the game. The moment he admitted he couldn’t make it on his own, the moment he reached out to her for help, Benehime won, and he went back to being her plaything forever.
“Do you think she’s serious about the Empress?” Karon said. “Osera has no hope at all if Nara’s coming this time, not unless you mean to take her yourself.”
“I’m doing no such thing,” Eli said, opening his eyes at last. “Nara won’t come. The only thing that could get that woman to move is Benehime herself, and there’s no way the Shepherdess would start a continental war just to squeeze me into asking for help. She’s nuts, but not that nuts.”
Karon rumbled deep in Eli’s ribs. “I don’t know what the Shepherdess is capable of anymore. She has changed very much from when I was young.”
“And how long ago was that?” Eli asked.
“Not as long as it should be to account for so great a change,” Karon said. “Be careful, Eli. Benehime was always a dangerous Power, but she seems to lose all sense when it comes to her love for you.”
“No argument there,” Eli muttered. There had been times when the Shepherdess was so angry that Eli had been sure she’d kill him. Sometimes, the dark times, he’d almost hoped she would. At least then he’d be free of her. But the older he got, the more he realized that even death wasn’t an escape from Benehime. If he died, she would just catch his soul and put him back together. There was no escape from the Shepherdess’s love.
“It has to be a bluff,” Eli muttered. “The Empire has been planning to invade Osera for decades. Now that they are, Benehime is just using the timing to try and scare me. But I’m not a stupid kid anymore, and she’s going to have to push a lot harder than that to break me.” He forced himself to smile. “It’s just another of her games, Karon. And I’m the best when it comes to playing games.”
Karon grumbled, unconvinced, and Eli patted his chest with a confident thump, though he wasn’t really sure whom he was trying hardest to convince with such bravado, the lava spirit or himself.
Outside, the sun was creeping over the castle walls, and Eli decided he’d better get up. He sat and stretched, running his fingers through his hair in a vain effort to remove the feeling of the Shepherdess’s hands. He was just reaching for his blond wig when he heard the soft click of the door lock. Eli moved in a flash, grabbing the wig and tossing it on his head. He fell back into his bed just in time to see a young manservant carrying a shaving tray slip through the heavy door.
“Can I help you?” Eli said, his voice drawling in exaggerated sleepiness.
The servant, who obviously thought he was being stealthy, jumped a foot in the air. “Good morning, sir,” he said when he’d recovered. “I am here to assist with your morning toilet.”
“Splendid,” Eli said, sitting up. “What’s your name?”
The servant shuffled. “Stefan, sir.”
Eli stood with a groan and walked across the room. He took the young man by the shoulder with a firm hand and turned him back toward the hall. “Stefan,” he said. “Excellent. Now, when I need assistance with my morning toilet, I’ll know exactly whom to call.”
“But, Mr. Banage,” the servant said, digging his heels into the rich carpet. “The queen ordered that we were to dress the prince and his guests for court.”