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The first overnight stop saw the lord and me sharing a room at the inn with two separate beds. I feared his intentions, but he did not return to the room or sleep in the second bed. I woke to fresh clothes neatly folded and waiting at the foot of my bed. Accepting gifts from the fae was one of the errors the book had described, but I had little choice unless I wanted to remain in the asylum’s stained overalls. With the new clothes on, and feeling more like my normal self beneath the fine garments, I met Rochefort outside by the carriage. He nodded and said little during the next leg of our journey.
His behavior seemed… restrained. I’d expected him to reveal his true colors the moment we were alone. Instead, he maintained the ruse of my faithful sponsor.
The next night on the road, Rochefort rented another twin room. Like the first, I stayed awake, waiting for the door to open and the lord to swoop in, but he did not come.
The following day, as the carriage rumbled on, snow began to dust the road.
Anticipation sizzled through my veins. The answers were in Minerva. Returning to the town put me one step closer to ending this waking nightmare. I was coming home, where I should have been six months ago. Rochefort would try and lock me inside the manor, but I’d find a way out and return to Devere. Together, we’d fix things, as it always should have been.
I hadn’t realized quite how much I’d missed him. With him, my own heart was full and my mind clear. He knew the truth about me, as I did him. He was my anchor in a crazy world, the one thing that stayed true.
Fat snowflakes buffeted the fogged carriage windows.
Six months gone. It should have been summer in Minerva, but summer no longer touched this place and never would unless the fae’s curse was broken. The fae who sat opposite me, staring out the other window, occasionally stroking his cane as though it were his pet.
“It must feel strange, returning after all these years?” he asked.
It had been so long since Rochefort had spoken that I’d forgotten the smooth timbre of his voice and how it filled my head.
I swallowed and looked over. Were we still pretending I hadn’t been back in fifteen years? That he hadn’t hired me to solve Jacapo’s murder and I hadn’t been around this carousel twice already? Would he turn back now, so close to Minerva, if I ruined his infuriating game?
“Yet it feels as though it’s only been months,” I said, and watched for any kind of acknowledgment of his lie in his eyes. Nothing came.
“Indeed.” He looked over and his smile softened. “I am not your enemy, Valentine.”
“No, of course not. You’re my sponsor. I am eternally grateful for all you’ve done for me. For paying for my treatment all these years. So kind. If I may ask, why did you do such a thing?”
“I like to think of myself as Minerva’s guardian. The town and its people are mine to protect.”
His toys to dance…
“I took on your case when we were both younger.” He planted his cane on the carriage floor and folded his hands over its silver top. “Between you and me, there are forces at work in Minerva that some may not believe, forces that can do terrible things to human minds such as yours. You were just a boy, Valentine, caught in a madness not of your making. I had hoped, one day, you might be stable enough for me to bring you home, and that day has come. Do you believe you are ready?”
I’d always been ready. I smiled back at him. “What forces?”
“Do not play coy with me.” His smile hooked into his left cheek. “Russo is not here to chastise you.”
The fae.
The very creature he was.
He expected me to believe the fae had driven me mad as a boy, for me to believe the last fifteen years hadn’t happened? That I’d been locked up and tied to a bed as a raving lunaticfor fifteen years!
His words were lies. Mine were the truth. No monster could ever convince me otherwise.
I stared out the window, hiding the rage from my face. “Might we visit the town after we’ve arrived? I have fond memories of Jacapo’s toy store and would love to see it again.”
“Let’s give it some time, hmm? Get you settled in first. The doctors all agree your mind is fragile. Too much stress and it might shatter all over again. I’m sure you don’t want that.”
“No, of course not,” I sneered through my teeth.
The carriage raced down winding tracks with the snow beating down in waves. I almost wished it would plow off the roadway again, but as we approached Rochefort Manor, glowing in the night like a beacon in the storm, any chance for a dramatic reset vanished and a chill trickled down my spine.
If there was ever a place capable of driving a man mad, it was this house.
But I’d withstand it. I had to.
