When the door closed behind them, Ángel and Lily looked at each other. Chilled and unsettled by the encounter, Ángel hugged himself. Lily put the kettle away and began wiping down the countertops. “The banquet will be on TV,” she said. “We can watch it, if you like.”

“Why would we do that?”

“It’s at the Tiepolo Ballroom. He’ll give a speech. He gave a million dollars to keep arts programs open in New York schools.”

“He gave ten million to get me to come here,” said Ángel.

Lily’s chin went up. “He did that? Why?”

“I was hoping you’d know.”

“I didn’t even know he had ten million dollars.”

Ángel sipped his tea. “Four albums. Seven Grammys.”

“Oh. Fae music, is it?” She shook her head, rinsing out her sponge. “I don’t like it. It sounds like wolves howling.”

“I think they teach it in schools. Will you let me come to the store?”

“It’s not safe. You need to stay here.”

“Please?”

“He said no.”

She began to take dishes out of the dishwasher and stack them on the counter. When she pulled a stool out of the pantry, he realized that she was too short to reach the cabinets. “Oh, let me,” he said, and began to put the dishes away. “When you buy me clothes, will you take it out of my account?” He was earning a gross salary of about $100,000 per year living here, all of which was going straight into an investment account that the DOR was managing for him.

“No. He didn’t tell me to. He’s not paying for them, either—I have a DOR expense account.”

He sighed. She was the only one he had to talk to in this place. “I like your shirt.” Lily often wore wear soft boho cotton shirts in pastel colors.

“I get them at Wal-Mart.”

“Can you get me some of those? They’re cute.”

She said severely, “You aren’t here to make friends with me.”

He raised his eyebrows and gave her his best smile. “But there’s nothing preventing it, is there?”

The house was enormously less tense without Oberon in it, but somehow even lonelier. Ángel tried not to think about Marissa. Why hadn’t she written him back? He was in the home of the cultural envoy from the Otherworld, and she waited days to send him an email? Was she mad at him? Maybe she was sick? Maybe she just had better things to do?

No. But it wasn’t like her. He was torn between anger and worry.