“I’m afraid he was delayed. But that works in our favor, doesn’t it?”
Left with little choice, I follow Lord Cavinder through the entry and down the hall, stepping into a room that must be his study. Phillip sits in a chair in the corner, waiting for us.
“Can I offer you refreshment?” Lord Cavinder asks, already ringing for a maid.
“I’m fine.”
And I have no desire to linger. Again, I glance at Phillip, uneasy.
“You must have some tea at least,” Lord Cavinder insists.
A maid steps into the room, and he makes his request. Once it’s just the three of us, he settles into a large leather chair behind the heavy mahogany desk. Crossing his hands on the smooth wooden surface, he says, “Take a seat, please.”
Nervous, I drop into a chair opposite his.
“As I’m sure you can imagine, I have business to discuss.”
“I can’t imagine,” I say. “What business could you possibly have in Faerie?”
He furrows his brow. “You really don’t know?”
“Should I?”
So far, his tone is friendly, but I sense a menacing undercurrent. Without my magic, I must resist the impulse to tilt my nose into the air and walk away.
“Your mother was my contact.”
My blood runs cold at the mention of her, and I sit taller, bracing myself. “Your contact?”
“We had a mutually beneficial relationship.”
I wait, knowing it could only mean one thing but hoping I’m wrong.
“What do you know of my organization, Your Highness?”
“Only what you told me. You run halfway houses, finding jobs and homes for the poor and unfortunate.”
“Yes,” he says, his face lighting up. “That’s exactly what I do, Sabine. I find employment for the downtrodden. But you see, there are so many of them and so few positions available where they may be placed.”
My hands begin to tremble, but I clasp them on my lap.
“Your mother is a tremendously giving woman,” he continues. “But I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.”
I stare at him, not trusting myself to speak.
“She generously agreed to a proposal I presented to her several years ago.”
“What was your arrangement?” I ask, but I know.
“When I had difficulty placing someone here, she accepted them into Faerie to find a suitable position for them.”
“You sold your own people into Faerie?” I say, unable to keep the revulsion out of my voice.
“Sold?” Lord Cavinder exclaims. “Of course not.”
“You’re telling me my mother never paid you for your services?”
“She donated money. Acknowledging our cause was worthy, she gave us a small sum at each meeting. The more people we brought across the border, the more she knew we were struggling to keep up with demands. She gave according to our needs.”