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He nodded, understanding. But the rest would be… difficult.
“His name is Adair, and as soon as you entered Minerva, he began to manipulate you. We are all puppets on the ends of his strings.”
I let those words find their way into his mind, and we sat for a while, with the fire roaring. The little clattering trains were a nuisance. I gave them a nod, and they fell silent, motionless on their tracks.
Valentine glared. “Ilikethe trains.”
Rolling my eyes, I set the trains off again. “Perhaps we should move off the floor?”
“Hmm…” He didn’t move.
We couldn’t stay on the floor all night. I shifted from his side, and the movement prompted him to climb to his feet.
He glanced around him, as though all of this were new. In a way, it was. “You said he made you, like you made these toys?”
I’d never wanted to tell Valentine any of this. He’d left, and he’d thought of me as the boy he’d abandoned, and that was all that had mattered. Now, with his soft eyes fixed on me and his pointed questions finding their mark, there was nowhere left to hide.
“Jacapo made me,” I said, “but he did not give me life—”
“Tea, I think,” he interrupted. “I’ll make us tea. I can do that. I need to do that. You have”—he waved a hand—“a teapot?”
A distraction sounded like the perfect idea. “Yes, in the workshop.”
“Right. Can I—”
“I suppose.”
We returned to my workshop and the bench, strewn with clockwork cogs and wheels.
Valentine spotted the stove and hurried to it. “Go on, I am listening. I just need to do something, to move so I know I’m not dreaming it all up.”
I leaned against my workbench, folded my arms, and took a steadying breath. I’d never told anyone the truth. “After the death of his wife and child, Jacapo raged at the world and sought to bargain with whatever god or monster would listen. He’d do anything to have his family back. I don’t know for certain, but I suspect he went into the woods where the fae reside, and Adair answered.”
“The fae?” Valentine echoed.
“Have you heard of them?”
“My mother… she mentioned the fae-folk. She said I… Never mind.”
“They rarely mingle with humans unless to… use them. They like their games.”
“They steal things. They’re mischievous. She told me that.”
If only the fae were that benign. “Not quite. They encourage such fanciful tales. Their reality is much more sinister and powerful.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” He filled the kettle from the faucet and set it down on the stove.
“Adair told the toymaker to craft a boy to replace the one he’d lost, and Adair would breathe life into it. Adair’s mistake was underestimating Jacapo’s skill and determination. Adair had assumed Jacapo would make a doll, something whimsy or foolish, and Adair would turn it into a living monster. But he made me.” Most, if not all, in Minerva would argue I was a monster if they learned the truth. “As promised, Adair breathed me to life.”
Valentine poured hot water through the tea strainer, remaining thoughtful and quiet. I had no desire to push him, yet I’d just told him what and who I really was. A nothing man, a puppet. He didn’t look at me, just continued making tea, then handed out my cup. Our fingers touched. He hurriedly pulled away.
It stung more than it should have. I’d often wished Jacapo had made me without a heart to feel. “I was never meant to be quite so… real,” I said.
Valentine retreated to a nearby sideboard, putting several strides between us, and leaned there, sipping his tea. “Then the fae—this Adair—wasn’t happy to be denied his fun?”
“My relationship with Adair is complicated.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”
