“Are those ... are those pieces of Milky Way?” Even before the words were out of my mouth, I knew I was right. Chopped up and worked in with the rest of the confectionary wonder were bits of my favorite candy bar. “How on earth did you get those?” Even the gentry had magical limits.

“Young Pagiel acquired some on a recent jaunt to the human world. I remembered how you’d been wanting some.” Some warning in my brain said I should be alarmed that Pagiel had made an unauthorized crossing and had managed to “acquire” human goods. I wasn’t optimistic about his cash resources. “Serving them as-is seemed so primitive, so I had the cook find a more elegant method of preparing them.”

“I can’t believe you did this.” I watched as Dorian sliced the cake, thinking it was a shame to mar such beauty. “Why ... why did you? What do you want?”

Dorian set a piece of cake on my plate and gave me a look that seemed legitimately perplexed. “Nothing. Well, except to make things pleasant between us again. As I was starting to tell you earlier, I want more than your safety. I want you to be happy. I feel justified in most of my actions—most. There are some affairs I haven’t treated you well in, and I want to rectify that. This cake is by no means the answer, but if we could manage any sort of trust again ...” He glanced away briefly, displaying a vulnerability I hardly ever saw in him. “Well. That would make me happier than you can imagine.”

Tears threatened to well up in my eyes. Fucking hormones. I cast a quick glance at the crib before returning to the cake again. I couldn’t take it anymore. “I-I’m leaving,” I blurted out. “I’m leaving the Otherworld.”

Dorian’s face didn’t alter in expression as he studied me. “Oh? You found some acceptable but dubiously safe new doctor? I’m telling you, the chicken would be much simpler.”

“No,” I said, feeling miserable. If we could manage any sort of trust again, that would make me happier than you can imagine. Why had he said that, of all things? “For good. Or, well, for a while.” I explained to him what I’d worked out with Roland, and throughout it all, Dorian’s face still remained damnably calm. I almost wished he’d flip into some burst of rage or mockery. Instead, once I’d finished, his reaction was minimal.

“Well,” he said, setting his fork down beside an uneaten piece of cake. “That is unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate? That’s all you have to say?” I wasn’t trying to provoke a fight; I was just surprised.

He paused to sip some wine. “What else is there? It sounds like everything’s in place. And clearly you’ve made up your mind if you’ve been planning this behind my back all week.”

“Is that what bothers you?” I asked. “That I didn’t tell you?”

At last, the hint of a smile—but it was a bitter one. “Ah, Eugenie. There are so many things that bother me about this, it’s hard to know where to start. I suppose it was foolish of me to try talking about trust again, eh? We’re as far from that as ever.”