“She can’t sing,” Alex admits, his fingers gently squeezing mine. “And even if she could, no one can compare to you. You are magic—perfection.”
My pride laps up his words, but he must know how impossible the idea is.
“I’m the heir of West Faerie,” I remind him, just in case he’s somehow forgotten. “I can’t perform in a human theater.”
Alex goes still, narrowing his eyes. His entire manner changes—it’s as if a mask suddenly slips over his face. When he finally responds, he says, “A human theater?”
I frown, belatedly realizing I’ve hurt him.
His expression darkens further, and he pulls his hand away. “Is a human theater below you, princess?”
“This conversation is ridiculous,” I answer gently. “If you’ll only think about it, you’ll agree.”
“I have thought about it—I need you.” He pauses, studying me with the strangest look on his face. “And…you owe me.”
“I owe you?” I ask, growing nervous.
Alex isn’t acting like himself, and I don’t care for the way he’s looking at me. I stand, needing to put space between us so I can think.
“How, exactly, have you come to that conclusion?” I ask. “How am I indebted to you in any way? You expect me to turn my back on my responsibilities—my family—because you came into Faerie and performed once?”
Alex laughs, but it sounds like it’s ripped from the depths of his being. He pushes away from the settee, coming to stand in front of me. “Oh, Your Highness, I cannot decide whether you are honestly naive or are masterfully avoiding the truth. Considering your heritage, I’m leaning toward the latter.”
“What are you talking about?”
He stalks forward, watching me closely. “Our performance was a trap. Unbeknownst to us, my friends and I became prisoners of Faerie the moment we decided to cross the border.”
I breathe hard, feeling suddenly dizzy. Unable to believe it, I shake my head. “That’s impossible.”
“As if you don’t know,” he says. “Like your mother wasn’t the one who snared us.”
“I…I think you should leave.” I swallow, not wanting to hear any more. “We’ll talk more in the morning. It’s already late, and—”
“You know what an illanté is, don’t you, princess?” He steps forward again, pinning me with his gaze.
I know exactly what an illanté is—a human pet, tethered to one of the Fae. But that couldn’t have happened to Alex. No.
A lump forms in my throat, and I begin to shake my head. “You and your fellow players were protected when you came into Faerie.”
“We were prey, captured and then gifted to your mother’s esteemed nobility.”
I continue to stare at him, refusing to believe it.
But...is it true? Was that why Mother allowed the performance? Was it not an indulgent act of a parent hoping to bring joy to her daughter but a ruse to collect more playthings for her court?
But even without asking her, I know the answer…of course I do. Has my mother done anything truly benevolent in her life?
The pieces fall into place: Alex’s harsh greeting, the cold look in his eyes. That’s why he thought I came to Davon—to collect a pet who had escaped.
My stomach rolls, and I extend my hand toward him. “I didn’t know.”
“No?” he asks, obviously not believing me.
“Alex—I swear.”
He steps up close enough he could kiss me, but we both know that’s not his intention this time. “Or perhaps you knew exactly what our fate was, but you chose to amuse yourself with me anyway? Was it fun, princess, twisting the foolish human around your finger? I thought I won your kiss, but you were the one in control that night, weren’t you?”
“Alex, stop.”