"The Ringmaster's kept her word before," he emphasizes more strongly, his expression scrunching up. "She wouldn't lie about that. She's--she's a lot nicer than other fae."

He hates to say that, because it feels like giving up on them. But the kind fae are getting quickly outnumbered and he's seen his friends go through too much pain.

He stops at the opening of a colorful tent, pulling back the tapestry and peering in. The tent seems to be in much the state it always is, mostly clean with rows and rows of clothes-filled racks.