Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

And Hugo said, “No. I won’t.”
The boy blinked slowly, his eyelashes black soot against golden skin.
“What was that?” he asked, voice pitched high and sweet, like candy-coated
razors.
“You’re not getting tea,” Hugo said.
“Oh.” The boy cocked his head. “Why not?”
“Because you’re going to listen to me, and I don’t want you distracted.”
“Ooh,” the boy breathed. “Is that right? This should be interesting. You’ve
got my attention. Go ahead. I’m listening.” He cast a sly glance at Wallace
before looking back at Hugo. “But I’d hurry if I were you. Appears our
Wallace here is having a hard time staying seated. I wouldn’t want him to
float away while you’re … how do you all put it? Giving me the ol’ what
for.”
Hugo folded his hands on the table in front of him, the pads of his thumbs
pressed together. “You lied to me.”
“Did I? About what, exactly?”
“Cameron.”
“Ah,” the Manager said. “The Husk.”
“Yes.”
“He went through the door.”
“Because we helped him.”
“Did you?” He tapped his fingers against his cheeks. “Fascinating.”
Wallace felt like screaming, but he kept his mouth closed. He couldn’t let
his emotions get the best of him, not when this counted more than anything.
And he trusted Hugo with every fiber of his being. Hugo knew what he was
doing.
Hugo’s voice was even when he said, “You let him be as he was. You told
me there was nothing we could do.”
“Did I say that?” the Manager chuckled. “I suppose I did. Glad to know
you were listening.”
“You could’ve stepped in at any time to help him.”
“Why would I have done that?” the Manager asked, sounding baffled. “He
made his choice. As I told Wallace, free will is paramount. It’s vital for—”
“Until you decide that it’s not,” Hugo said flatly. “This isn’t a game. You
don’t get to pick and choose when you intervene.”