Ensnared (Splintered, #3)(67)
My strength rallies. “No. You’re lying. This isn’t the only way to get Jeb out.”
Morpheus presses both hands on the table behind me, penning me in. “As you said. He has no desire to leave.”
I shove him back. “I can convince him.”
“What? By seducing him?” Morpheus scoffs. “I have half a mind to let you try. Whatever it takes to get the boy out of your system once and for all.”
An angry throb pulses in my temples. “You’re right. You do only have half a mind if you think your ‘letting’ me has anything to do with anything.”
His cocky grin answers. “Go ahead then. I’ll swipe the memory of his touch away. And I shan’t need a forgetting potion to do it. I’ve every faith in my abilities to o’ershadow anything that mortal can do for or to you.” He drags his fingertip along my waist, reminding me of what happened between us in his room earlier. “Why are we arguing, hmm?” he croons. “It’s a moot point. You had the morning together. He painted your half-naked body, the lucky sod. Had that been my job, your pretty clothes would ne’er have been crafted. He doesn’t want you anymore.”
That truth scores through me. But I won’t let a wounded ego derail my resolve. “There’s something else to this Red thing. And if you don’t tell me, I’ll wear a simulacrum suit and go alone tonight to get Dad’s cure and put an end to her for good.”
His alabaster complexion pales. “Don’t be a fool. To get into that castle, it will take teamwork. And we must be armed with an escape plan. Most importantly, you need to sleep first. You can hardly stand.”
I step from between him and the table, inching toward the door. “Why would I need to stand? I can fly. And neither you nor Jeb can stop me.” With a snap of my shoulder blades, my wings release, rushing another surge of power through my veins.
Morpheus’s gaze tracks my wings. Filaments of moonlight stream down from above, illuminating his enthralled expression. “That is a breathtaking display, luv. But dare not mistake my veneration for surrender.”
He starts toward me, his expression fading to a scowl. I’ve triggered one of his dark, combative moods. It doesn’t matter, because my imagination is more refined than his, and he’s given me the secret to manipulating Jeb’s paintings.
Before he passes the Japanese screens, I mentally beckon the cranes. They cease pecking their beaks against their rice-paper prison and turn their attention to me. I assign them a new role: lace spinners, with the moonlight as their thread.
Bugle-like squawks burst from their throats as they step out of their screens and plop in front of Morpheus in full 3-D form. Wavering on scaly gray legs, the duo clacks and slides along the floor, learning to balance for the first time. Then, wings spread, they lift their elegant necks to full height, reaching Morpheus’s chin.
He backs up, his jewels flashing a yellow-green—cautious fascination.
The cranes capture moonlight in their beaks as if it were tangible threads. Pulling it taut from the ceiling, they weave it into a network of glistening lace with otherworldly speed. One blink, and the panel is already down to Morpheus’s chest.
He tries to duck underneath, but the birds adjust their trajectory, looping, twisting, and braiding the mesh so it reaches his shins. He hardly has time to retreat before the barrier hems him into the back corner of the room . . . a gauzy fence from ceiling to floor. As soon as they finish the first panel, they start on another, beaks clacking.
“Well played,” Morpheus says from the other side, curling his fingertips through the unbreakable threads. Admiration glistens in his dark eyes. “I am your prisoner. Although I always have been.”
We watch each other in silence. The one thing innate in both of us is our fear of being held captive. I remember his beautiful, agonized confession weeks ago: Nothing can break the chains you have on my heart. In the vision I had, when we danced upon the sun, we were free and equal in every way. That’s what I wish for him. For us both.
“I never wanted you to be my prisoner,” I insist.
He flourishes his arms in a grand gesture. “Yet here I am in a cage of your making.”
“If you could learn to be honest, the walls would come down.”
He clenches his jaw.
“You’re using Jeb to influence my choices. Again. I’m not falling for it this time. Why do you want to free Red? Is there something between the two of you?” I pause at the threshold, waiting.
“No! I hate the wretch.” His face, crisscrossed with lacework shadows, grows somber. “I hate her with the same changeless passion with which I love you.”
The confession is sweet in its simplicity, reminding me the emotions he feels are foreign to him; being a solitary creature, he doesn’t understand how deeply interwoven love is with trust. “You want me to believe in your love? Then no more secrets. If we’re going to be equals, we have to work together. You’re so used to being on your own, you don’t know how to trust anyone but yourself. That has to change. The human in me, she needs trust. Have faith that I’ll understand and won’t judge you. That I can find a way to help you. Maybe a better way.”
His stubborn silence mocks me, so I turn to leave.
“There is no better way!” The desperation in his voice causes me to spin and face him. “If there was, I would never ask this of you. Red put the spell upon Wonderland’s terrain. Only her magic can reverse the decay and return its original splendor. Without her, the nether-realm will fall to ruin, and nothing will redeem our world. Our home. Your kingdom. That’s why we have to smuggle her out . . . and the only way is inside you. You are her lineage, and the only one strong enough to harness her magic and use it for good once we cross the border.”