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And if he ever discovered how much I cared for Val, he’d destroy him.
“He cannot know,” I whispered, like a prayer. Adair would rip him from me and take pleasure in ruining him. If he thought Valentine inconsequential, he might let him live.
Valentine clutched my face and forced me to look up, to see. “I will free us, both of us, and this cursed fucking town. That’s what I was brought back here to do, not by Adair, but by fate.”
He’d try, and fail, and be trapped here, living the same events over and over, while everyone else forgot. “There is no fate, Valentine. Only his design. If you stand against him, he will destroy you.”
“I can’t let him win and neither can you.”
I tore from Valentine’s hands, then pried myself from between his legs. Pulling away hurt more now that I knew how much I wanted him, and how it could never be. “You must do as he says, follow his design, and when the game is over, you must leave.” My heart raced for a different reason now. How could Valentine be so foolish as to think he could stand against something like Adair? “He will let you leave if he thinks you’re nothing to me.”
Determination banished all the heat from his gaze, turning it cold. “I shouldn’t have left years ago. I’m not leaving now.”
“Then you are a fool.” No, this was terrible. What had I done? By learning the truth, he should have run from it and me. Instead he appeared more determined than ever. Did he not care about his own sanity? “You don’t understand what he’ll do to you. He breaks minds—”
“No,youdon’t understand. I’m not the same boy who ran away. I’ll not make the same mistake again.”
I crossed the room, and with his clothes askew, he’d never seemed more passionate and wild.
“I am staying, and we will stop him, whatever it takes.”
“No, Valentine.” This was exactly what I did not want. “You need to leave now. I should never have told you. We shouldn’t… We can’t do this.”
“Leave? But—”
“Yes, leave. Go back to the inn, find Jacapo’s killer, play his game, and survive.”
Finally, he heard the words and stopped in the middle of my chaotic workshop. “You want me gone?”
“I do.” I almost choked on the lie.
“All right. I’ll go.”
His tone was not one of quiet resignation, but more a defiant vow. He turned on his heel and marched from the room. “I will do exactly that!”
No, he was going to make things much worse. “Valentine, wait—” I hurried after him and found him standing still, with his back to me in the storefront, surrounded by dazzling, clanging toys and the fallen pieces of the jigsaw. “He can twist your mind, make illusions seem real. I have no doubt you want to hurt him—”
A banging rattled the store’s front door.
Constable Russo stood outside and behind him stood the imposing Lord Rochefort.
“Open up, Barella!” Russo declared. He waved a document like a victory flag. “I have a warrant for your arrest. Open this door, or I’ll break it down.”
Val whirled. “Run, out the back. Go!”
“I’m not running from him.”
“You have to.” Fear shone in Val’s eyes. “Russo is the one who burned your shop down. He despises you. Run now before this gets much worse. I’ve seen it. It’ll happen again—”
I folded my arms and lifted my chin. “And go where, Valentine?”
His eyes went wide. “There has to be somewhere.”
The door rattled again.
“This is your last chance, Barella! Open this door!” Russo demanded.
Valentine marched to the door. “On what charge?”
