Page 109 of The Toymaker's Son

Soon, it would be over. And I’d be free. Free of Minerva, free of the nightmares, and free of Devere.

“Do you confess?” Russo asked.

“I did not kill Jacapo. He was driven mad by grief and shame, and his heart surrendered. My father’s soul died long before I found him on that bench, alongside his wife and true son. His life was an echo of what it had been before, the same as yours will be, Valentine. Please…” The crowd fell silent, and Devere’s sorry gaze settled on me. “Please, you’re making a mistake.”

“The mistake is yours.” I approached the gallows and looked up at the puppet master. “Let me go, and this ends here.”

“What I feel for you is real. It is the most real thing in any world. I’ve always loved you, and I love you still, Val. Even now. Don’t do this.”

“If you love me, as you say, set me free. I cannot love you if I’m not free to choose to. Do you understand that? Do you see what you’ve done here, and why it’s so wrong?”

A flicker of recognition widened his eyes. He knew how to end this, and he knew it had to end. It was that simple.

“Forgive me?” he asked.

“Do it!” Russo barked. The gallows man pulled the lever, the steps dropped, and Devere dropped with them.

ChapterForty-One

Valentine

Present Day

Carts clattered outside the window, behind drapes teased by the breeze. Sunlight poured through dusty glass panes, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air.

I watched those dust motes as the nightmare faded from my mind, and I let it go, like sand through my fingers. What had been vivid memories of the mob and the gallows evaporated like mist under the sun.

I pushed up from the bed onto my elbows. The bedroom was sparse. A washbasin, sideboard, dressing table, a single chair beside my bed, and an old chest of drawers with the drawers hanging open, clothes spilling over the sides. I knew this room, but I hadn’t seen it in years. This wasmyroom in a house that had burned down.

I raised my hand to ease the ache in my head. My hand trembled, skeletal fingers twitched, and I froze. My fingers were nothing but bone wrapped in skin, my arm too… What had happened to me? I flung off the sheet and stared at my naked knees and thighs, so thin they’d barely hold me.

I stumbled from the bed. The room tilted, the floor sliding out from under me. I clung to the dresser and peered at the bearded wraith of a man in the filthy mirror.

It wasn’t me. It couldn’t be me.

I poked at my face, and the reflection copied the action. I shoved at the bird’s nest of ragged hair on my head. My cheeks were hollow, my face corpse thin. Only my eyes remained true, bright and startled.

I did not know this wretched man.

The room spun again, with me inside it. I clutched the dresser and fought off a wave of nausea. Shock.Breathe. I just needed to breathe.

Was this another cruel go-around?

No. Splinters dug into my bare feet, the room smelled of stale sweat, and the harsh sunlight stabbed my eyes. Everything was too harsh, too heavy.It was real.

I tore off my nightshirt, spluttered something like a sob at my emaciated reflection, and rummaged around the drawers for clothes that weren’t stained or torn. I had to know the truth. I had to see the outside.

I left the room, dashed down the stairs, and paused at the last step. A pair of tattered boots waited by the front door. To my right, the cold living room was as it had always been, and to my left, flies buzzed over stacks of used plates overflowing the rank kitchen sink.

The last step was almost the hardest to take. I turned, and there was the cupboard under the stairs. The paint had mottled around the door, where old tape had been applied and torn free. Bent nails poked out from three boards that had been fixed over it. I’d done that… hammered the nails in and sealed the door closed forever. I remembered it like a dream just out of reach, but it was real, like this moment was real.

After tugging on my boots, I slowly ventured outside. Sunlight warmed my back but burned my eyes, as though they’d been starved of light. Raising a hand to shield my vision, I stumbled up the road. Traders with their carts passed by. Carriages carrying the wealthy around town clattered down the cobbled street. People stared. A few gasped. They saw the wild man from my reflection. I didn’t care. I had to know. I had to see…

I stumbled up the sidewalk, passing the bank, the baker, houses with roses growing in their small front gardens, and then the butcher, the greengrocer, and the town square. No gallows… just a well, some seats, and an old woman feeding pigeons that squawked and fought over breadcrumbs.

I turned the corner, and there it was, Jacapo’s World of Toys. My steps slowed. The boards that had long ago been nailed over the doors and windows had half rotted away. The sign that declaredJacapo’s World of Toyshad faded, and some of the letters had fallen away. Ivy clawed up the walls and through the broken windows. I backed up, my heart thumping in my throat. The toy store had long ago been left to rot. Devere wasn’t here. The dirt that crunched under my boots, the smell of stale sweat in the air… It was real. This wasn’t a go-around.

Horses screeched, and a carriage roared. I lurched from the curb.

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