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“You don’t remember?”
“Not this life, no.”
“But another one?” she asked.
If I told her too much, I might lose her kindness, and as she was the only friendly face, I dared not risk losing her. “It’s as though I was trapped somewhere else, my mind locked far away, but I am free now, as you can see.”
“I can. And it’s marvelous. As you are, Valentine. You’re quite a wonder.” Color touched her cheeks as she sipped her tea and averted her gaze.
“I might need your help adjusting, and I apologize now if I say or do anything that may seem odd. It will take a little time to settle. But Miss Couper, will you help me find my place here?”
“Of course. I’d be delighted to. I’ve always thought… Well, I’ve always thought it was a shame how you were hidden away. And do please call me Elisabeth.”
We drank tea and discussed the town and its people and the summers I’d lost. We talked until the fire burned down, and Miss Couper—Elisabeth—offered to cook a meal. It might have been the most delicious meal I’d ever eaten, even if it consisted of mostly cheese, ham, and bread.
Strange, this new life, but I’d find my place within it. I had to. More importantly, it was mine and nothing could take it away from me.
ChapterForty-Two
Devere
The fae, with their too-bright smiles and brilliant clothing, danced to tinkling music and frolicked with the intoxicated humans they’d lured to this charade. Each guest wore an elaborate mask—the humans to hide their identity, and the fae to play their games.
The masquerade, they called it. A nowhere place between the human world and the realm of faerie, a living dream between the folds of reality. Adair had brought me here, and here I’d stayed, trapped in this pantomime circus. The fae had told me how the masquerade had been different from this not so long ago. But the host had abandoned it, leaving the never-ending revelry adrift and somewhat unpredictable. But the premise remained—humans came; they danced and frolicked with the fae in all ways; and after a while, they left again, likely with no memory of their debauchery. Sometimes, they never left. Sometimes, the masquerade consumed them, so they danced forever, choosing fantasy over reality.
But this fantasy was a thin veneer over the fae’s true motives to exploit and seduce their victims.
The irony of it was not lost on me.
I was more fae than I’d allowed myself to believe.
Valentine had been right. I’d stolen his life. I was no different from Adair, and now Adair was all I had. Clearly, I deserved him.
“So sour, Devere.” Adair draped himself in the chair beside mine and removed his blue mask. He wore an outfit of deep blue silk, stitched with silver thread, making each seam shine. I’d worn what I’d been given: a suit made from a purple so dark it shimmered like oil, and a small painted clockwork gear under my ear instead of a mask. Adair had picked the clothes for me, like he had every day since Valentine’s dreams had ended. I was Adair’s doll, to dress, to parade, to do with as he pleased. If I refused, he clicked his fingers, and the magic that made my gears turn seized.
He’d done it once. Once had been enough to know I never wished for it to happen again.
When I’d clung to my fantasy, and Valentine had watched me hang, Adair had torn me from the dream. I’d raged at him, tried to weave a new world—I’d vowed to find a way to Valentine, to bring him back—and Adair had clicked his fingers, snatching his magic and my freedom away.
Wherever Valentine was, I hoped he liked hisreallife, because mine had become a nightmare.
“Dance with me.” Adair stood and extended his hand. His smile sharpened. “Now.”
“As you wish,” I snarled. I took his hand and accompanied him to the dance floor. As we danced, the others looked on. I heard their whispers.Adair, the dreamweaver, and his clockwork man.I was a fascination, a fancy, a freak, and I felt every single gaze crawl over me.
“Oh, do smile,” Adair said as we spun and dipped and stepped in perfect synchronicity. “You might enjoy it if you stopped pining over the past.”
“I’d enjoy it more if you did not parade me around like a pet.”
“But that is what you are. A wonderful work of art, my pet. And they are all so jealous.”
“You care more about how the others see you than my own free will.”
“Free will?” Adair laughed. “You have no free will. You are what I made you to be.”
“You didn’t make me—”
The slap struck like a lightning bolt and dropped me to my knees. The dancers kept on dancing, their bright colors aswirl, dizzying. I blinked up at Adair’s furious face and knew why he was so obsessed with me. Why all of this mattered so much.
