He turns his back to me, looking tense. “Is there nothing I can say to persuade you to leave?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Fine.” He opens the balcony door, but I grasp his arm before he steps into the night.
“I do have one question,” I say, looking up at him.
He glances at my hand before he removes it with a shadowed scowl. “What?”
“Can I eat the food here? Legend says it will dull my senses and make it so I can never leave Faerie.”
He laughs as if delighted to be reminded. “The effect is temporary, not permanent as you’ve been told. But it is true—it’s one of the many ways the Fae trick their pets into signing their lives away.”
“Pets?” I manage, chilled at the thought.
“That’s right, Alice,” he says ominously. “Their human pets.”
My mouth becomes dry, and I attempt to swallow. “You don’t think that’s what Lord Ambrose has in mind for me…do you?”
“You’d make a lovely prize.” He crosses his arms and studies me with an air of smug victory. “Are you finally ready to let me take you home?”
“I have no home,” I say quietly. “And now, when people watch me, their admiration has been replaced with either pity or wicked delight. I can’t return without Gustin—I cannot bear to see the looks on their faces without him by my side to take a portion of the burden.”
“Alice—”
“Please,” I whisper, hating how many times I’ve found myself pleading in the last few days.
Please, don’t take my home. Please, not Grandmother’s wedding band. Please, let me use the carriage just one last time.
I’ve never felt so small in my life. “If you know a way to avoid eating the food, tell me.”
“I’ll return tomorrow night,” the bandit says heavily. “Do not eat or drink anything—not anything—until I see you again. Do you understand?”
“Thank you,” I say in a rush.
“Do not thank me,” he says sharply. He then glances back into the room as if critiquing the space. Sounding resigned, he asks, “Is it all right? Are you comfortable?”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, but a bout of sadness hits me as I remember my own beautiful room. I slept in it only days ago, but it’s been torn apart now, almost all my things taken to be auctioned to contribute to the debt Gustin accrued with his idiot wager.
“Don’t you have any family you can go to?” the bandit asks as a last effort, sounding exhausted. “Someone who will care for you?”
My chest aches when I think of my parents—I barely remember them now. Just a few tidbits remain stored in my mind, like a painting on the wall. Mother’s warm laugh; Father’s dark mustache.
They live with my sister and grandmother, existing only in memories. I can only hope Gustin won’t join them soon.
“My grandmother was our guardian,” I tell him. “She passed away about a year ago.”
“No aunts, no uncles?”
“No one except Gustin.”
The bandit makes a disgusted noise.
“You’ll be back tomorrow?” I ask as he slips out the door.
“Yes.”
“You promise?” I persist, trying to make out his eyes behind his mask.