My body twitches and aches in sympathy. It’s like barbed wire wraps my joints and tendons, tightening with Jeb’s movements. “What’s happening to him?” I whimper.
Morpheus looks up at the moths bumping against the ceiling’s glass panes, unconcerned. He squints in the sunlight. “Seeing your memories has made his subconscious aware that there are holes in his own. It must be an excruciating sensation, having Swiss cheese for your brain. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to remedy my hat.”
I struggle to contain the rage rising in me. “Who cares about your stupid hat! For once think of someone besides yourself!”
My outburst catches Morpheus’s attention. He looks at me curiously, almost detached.
“Help Jeb. For me,” I urge, feeling only a sliver of guilt for exploiting his affections. After all, he’s the one who taught me how to use people’s weaknesses.
There’s a crack in his veneer of indifference. He strides over, kneels down, and cups his palms around Jeb’s temples. Blue light pulses through Jeb from his head to his bare feet, and he relaxes.
Clearing his throat, Morpheus stands and walks away. “I made him sleep. His dreams will keep him out of pain for now. But the only way to save him from madness is to reunite him with his lost memories. That means a train ride. And I am not getting on any train without my Peregrination Cap.”
With Chessie’s help, he coaxes the frightened moths down from the skylights, rebuilding his hat piece by piece. Enough insects are still missing to leave noticeable gaps. He and Chessie head toward the bathroom to search for more.
I clench my fists until my nails leave imprints on my skin, fighting the urge to yell at him for his vanity, but it won’t do any good. Morpheus is Morpheus. At least he made Jeb comfortable.
I push back a lock of dark hair hanging over Jeb’s eyes, then lean down and kiss his forehead. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you everything. I’ll never keep the truth from you again.”
I make the promise even though it means I’ll have to tell him about the deal I made with Morpheus, and what precipitated it. Jeb will end up knowing that he attacked me, so I made the deal for nothing. But I can’t lie to him anymore.
I stretch out my leg and catch Jeb’s discarded shirt with my heel. After dragging it over, I fluff it into a cushion. He mumbles my name subconsciously as I ease his head onto the makeshift pillow. I cover him up to his shoulders with a drop cloth to keep him warm.
“We’re going to fix you,” I say, stroking his hair.
I stand and retie my bootlaces, impatience building in my blood. Jeb needs his memories, and I still have to decipher the final mosaic so I can face Red. The first point of business is to find a mirror big enough to climb through.
But Morpheus is too stubborn to leave without his hat. While he’s busy sifting through drawers in the bathroom, I head to the ladder. I saw at least two or three moths fly up to the loft.
Two moths flitter in and out of the sunlight as I arrive on the upper level. They perch atop the box mattress. Scooping them up, I release them over the railing, sending them down to Chessie.
“There’s one still missing,” Morpheus says from the ground floor.
“It’s here,” I answer. “Caught in some web.”
The insect cries as it jerks against the sticky tangles, helpless and frightened. Whispering comforting words, I work it free, careful not to damage its wings. As soon as I turn the moth loose, I notice something in the far corner where the web is thickest. I edge closer, eyes adjusting to the shadows.
A sick feeling rolls through me as I recognize the outline of a body—a cocooned corpse.
“Uh, Morpheus …” I can barely murmur the words.
As if reacting to my voice, the corpse moves under the thick white fibers. The air in my lungs freezes. I lift my foot to step back just as a hand rips through the web and snatches my wrist with a grip as cold as ice.
A scream tears from my throat.
Adrenaline surges through me, and I pry the cold fingers from my wrist. Morpheus flies to my side. We exchange a glance, then examine the cocooned webbing along the wall. Together, we break through and release the form from its shell.
A woman slumps into Morpheus’s arms. She smells fruity and delicate—like pears. Her skin sparkles with the sheen of moonlight over a frosted lake, and giant feathery white wings drape behind her shoulders.
She’s an ice swan and a queen entwined. I’d know her anywhere.
“Ivory,” I whisper. I can’t imagine why she’s here, trapped like this.
Morpheus pales. He lifts her and carries her to the mattress, kicking aside the lamp on the way. He lays her down gently. Off-white lace peeks out from the web clinging to her dress. Waist-length silvery hair wraps around her long, elegant neck.
Seated on the edge of the bed, Morpheus peels a sticky gossamer coating from her nose and mouth. She gasps for breath. Her white lashes and eyebrows twitch, glistening like crystals.