“I think he wants to believe that,” Frederick says slowly, gauging my reaction. “But trust doesn’t come easy to Alex, not anymore. I know little about his time in Faerie, but I do know what happened here in his absence. May I tell you?”
Part of me wants to refuse, afraid I’m going to feel pity for a man I want to hate.
But Frederick begins without my consent. “When the troupe disappeared, Alex’s father was beside himself. Weeks passed with no trace of his son or any of the performers who went with him. He went to King Balthus, begging him to use his influence to find answers, but even the king’s men were unable to learn anything.
“In his grief, Mr. Devereaux shut the doors to the theater for the first time since it opened. The disappearance, along with his slide into madness, became a scandal that was whispered all over the city.”
I nod, imagining a parent could respond in such a way to their child vanishing. Not my mother, mind you, but someone else’s parent.
“My father begged Mr. Devereaux to rouse himself from his mourning, but there was no pulling him out of it. Just a month before Alex escaped Faerie, he committed suicide.”
My mouth goes dry, and I try to swallow.
“Alex blames himself,” Frederick continues, “but more, he blames—”
“The Fae who bought him,” I finish for him. “My mother, and by association, me.”
Frederick presses his lips into a thin line, nodding. “Reopening the theater has been an uphill battle. Shaking the stigma surrounding it hasn’t been easy, but Alex has fought tooth and nail to bring his father’s vision back to life. On some level, I believe he feels it’s his duty to restore it—the only way he knows how to honor his father, an apology for causing him so much pain before his untimely end.”
Despite myself, my heart aches for Alex and Mr. Devereaux.
“Alex isn’t the same person he was before he went into Faerie,” Frederick finishes. “He masks it with a smile, but he’s concealing a festering wound. Please, forgive him. I swear he hates himself more than you ever could.”
I think about it, running my finger around the rim of my cup. “There’s one flaw in your story.”
Frederick frowns. “What’s that?”
“An illanté agreement can only be entered willingly. Alex and the rest of the troupe must have agreed.”
“Even I know your people have a knack for manipulating bargains.”
I frown because he’s right—I’ve just never cared before. After all, they’re just humans. Fascinating, yes, but still…human.
And now I’m not sure how I feel. The idea that they’re below us doesn’t settle as well as it did before I came into Valsta, and to be honest, I don’t like that my convictions are wavering. It’s uncomfortable, and guilt gnaws at my insides, making my stomach ache.
I glance again at the cursed ring.
“Will you meet with Alex today?” Frederick asks gently.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Well, you best think quickly because he’s right outside the door.”
I whip my attention back to Frederick.
He holds up his hands, laughing sheepishly. “I held him off for as long as I could. He was here at dawn, demanding to speak with you.”
“Fine,” I snap. “Let him in.”
Frederick crosses the room and opens the door. But when Alex steps inside, Frederick slips out. He’s not a snake—he’s a weasel.
Panicking a little at the idea of facing Alex alone, I set my cup on the tray so he won’t notice how my hands shake.
Alex crosses the room warily. His hair is disheveled, and he didn’t bother shaving this morning. The skin under his eyes is smudged with shadows, making me think he didn’t sleep any better than I did.
He’s still handsome, though—and I hate myself for thinking it.
I clasp my hands together on my lap as he slowly approaches. “If you’re worried I’m going to leap from the bed and hold the knife to your throat, you can be at ease. Sadly, Frederick didn’t leave it with me.”