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“I don’t know the words to describe his obsession. He both loves and despises me, hates and admires me. I appall and bemuse him. When I refused to adore him, he made his own puppets—empty vessels, for the most part, who sometimes look like me—but he grows furious when they are not me. He’s failed every time. He demanded Jacapo to make more of me. Jacapo refused. Adair grew jealous, frustrated with his own failures and irritated by my disinterest in worshipping him.”
Valentine lifted his hot cup of tea to his lips. “That’s why he killed Jacapo.”
“I told Jacapo not to frequent the gentlemen’s club, but he was a man, and a lonely one. I don’t know what happened between them, an argument I suspect. Adair is quick to anger, selfish, vicious, cares only for himself and his own needs. He is alone, and he can’t stand it. The more he demands company, the more isolated he becomes. From what I’ve seen, which admittedly is not much, even his own kind avoid him.”
“Oh… then I was right.” He slumped and heaved a withering sigh. “Rochefort is Adair. I knew. I just didn’tknow.”
“The lord, his house, and his wife do not exist outside of Adair’s Minerva. He’s created a bubble in which Minerva exists solely to please him. He toys with everyone, and if something upsets his plan, as you did, he sweeps the board clean and begins again.”
Valentine’s face fell. “He has such power? My God.”
“There are no gods here. Only Adair.”
“There are no gods in Minerva, only nightmares,” he mumbled.
“You were never meant to know any of this or be a part of it. You had your own life, your own worries and concerns. And you left. You got out.”
“But I saw things. Sensed them as a boy. They were real.”
“That’s what drew me to you. I tried to ignore you at school, but you’re quite persistent. Adair saw how we became friends.”
“You tried so hard to be invisible.” He smiled. “But I saw you.”
“You kept approaching me, kept talking. Always talking.Incessantlytalking. About nothing, and everything.”
He chuckled, and its rich, rumbling sound resonated inside my chest. “I don’t recall it quite like that—”
“I’d never laughed before that day you put a flower in my hair. It was the most ridiculous thing. A flower in my hair?” I laughed at the memory now. It was still absurd. “I wore that flower all day.”
He smiled fondly. “I remember.”
“Until the older boys knocked me down for it. But it didn’t matter. You’d made me laugh, and I discovered that was a thing I could do, like other boys.” I couldn’t say any more, not when he was staring so intently. I’d learned much from him. How to play, how to laugh, how to… kiss. “Some days you were sad and withdrawn,” I said, switching the topic back to him. “Once, I followed you home. I saw what they did. Your parents. So I made you the bird and asked Jacapo to give it to you. Then later, I made Hush for us both, but she always preferred you. The rest, I suppose you know.”
He cradled his mug in both hands and sipped his tea, his eyes downcast, until he looked up at the wall of spare parts.
“What happens if you leave Minerva?” he asked.
“I’m tied to this shop. If I go too far, I’ll… stop.”
“When your shop burned, you vanished, and Hush stopped.”
“I don’t remember, but yes, that sounds likely.”
He stared at the wall again, then pushed from the sideboard and wandered toward it, admiring all the pieces.
What did he think of me? Was I just another object to him now? I’d never wanted him to know the truth. I looked down at my arm, hidden beneath my sleeve. My human skin was a mask. Beneath it I was made of an intricate jigsaw of gears and cogs, mechanical pieces put together and made to move by Adair’s magic, no different from the toys I sold. Even my heart was a clockwork creation, each beat a tick-tock.
“Can I see?” he asked, turning to me.
“Why?” My heart thumped too loud in my head and heavy in my chest.
“I…” He wet his lips. “I only glimpsed, earlier, and I… I believe you. It’s just… This world is not as I thought. There are lies around every corner. I need to see the truth.” He laughed, but the sound was thin, like a violin string about to snap. “Although, I am unsure if I can trust my own eyes.”
He could trust me. I rolled up my sleeve, dug my nail under an almost imperceptible tab in the skin at my wrist, and peeled back the skin. An array of fluid-like clockwork movements spun and ticked inside, each one part of the wider clockwork machine that comprised me.
He’d gone still. I dared not meet his gaze. He probably despised me. I wasn’t like him. I wasn’t a man. I wasn’t even human. Just a thing put together, animated by magic, no more human than his clockwork bird.
“It’s wonderful.” He reached out, but held back, not wanting to touch. “Look at it, how delicate it all is, how intricate the workings. Truly, you are a marvel.”
