When we passed a pharmacy at the end of a line of shops, Eliza stopped dead. Nick and I turned to look at her.
‘It’s okay,’ Nick said gently. ‘Come on. We’ll keep away from—’
‘Everything?’
‘You’ll be fine.’
Eliza hesitated before pressing on. We walked on either side of her, as if our auras could shield hers.
We never stayed long in our safe houses, but my favourite was the neglected terrace in Limehouse we arrived at now, which overlooked the marina. Once we were locked in, Danica went up to her room while Eliza retired to the cellar. I made myself a cup of broth.
One side of my head was beginning to throb. I didn’t know what we would do if we couldn’t get rid of Senshield. The location of its core must be top-secret, and the information that would help us was unlikely to seep into Danica’s department. It was hard not to give way to dread.
When I drank the broth, I hardly tasted it. I was exhausted from doubting everyone and everything. Suddenly I realised that no matter what I did next, I had to resolve my relationship with Warden. For three weeks, Jaxon’s words had sunk hooks in my mind and spread a poison of misgiving there. I had started to question Warden’s motives. To wonder if he was manipulating me on behalf of the Ranthen. They had chosen me to lead their rebellion, but they needed me to be willing. Pliable. Perhaps they thought a love-struck human, overcome by emotion, would be easy to influence. Perhaps they thought that if I wanted Warden badly enough, I would do anything for him.
Now paranoia swelled at the back of my mind every time I caught sight of him. More than likely, this was just what Jaxon wanted; more than likely, I was playing into my enemies’ hands.
There was only one thing to do about it. I could come right out and tell Warden what Jaxon had accused him of. Give him a chance to defend himself. It would take courage, but I wanted to be able to trust him.
In the parlour, Nick was sitting before the fire, leafing through reports. I could smell the wine on him from the doorway. He had always refused to touch alcohol until recently.
‘You miss him,’ I said quietly, dropping on to the couch beside him.
His voice was hoarse when he replied: ‘I miss him every minute. I . . . keep expecting to look up and see him.’
My conscience had stopped me throwing Zeke and Nadine out of Seven Dials. I had sent them an offer of shelter, regardless of their feelings towards me, but received no reply.
‘Have you told Warden what Jaxon said to you?’
I glanced at him. ‘How did you know?’
‘Same way you knew I was thinking about Zeke. I always know.’
We exchanged tired smiles. ‘If only Rephaim were so easy to read,’ I said, sinking back into the couch. ‘No. I haven’t told him.’
‘Don’t leave it too long. You never know when the chance to say things will just . . . disappear.’
We sat together in the gloom. He stared into the fire like he was trying to find something. I’d always thought I knew Nick Nyg?rd’s face, down to the dent in his chin and the way his nose dipped slightly at the end. I had memorised how his pale eyebrows sloped upward, giving him a look of perpetual concern. But when the light found him at this angle, I sensed the unfamiliar.
‘I keep imagining what Jaxon might have planned for him,’ he said. ‘Look how badly Jax hurt you in the scrimmage.’
‘Zeke isn’t trying to steal his crown.’
He grunted, but I couldn’t blame him for worrying.
‘Terebell wants them gone, doesn’t she?’ When I didn’t answer, he shook his head. ‘Why haven’t you done it?’
‘Because I’m not heartless.’
‘You can’t risk appearing to have sympathy for your old gang. Jaxon’s gang.’ His voice was softened, on the cusp of slurring. ‘Do what you have to do. Don’t take my burdens on to your shoulders, s?tnos.’
‘I’ll always have room on my shoulders for you.’
Nick smiled at that and draped an arm around me. I didn’t know what I would have done without him on my side. If he had chosen Jaxon, his friend of eleven years, instead of me.
Neither of us wanted to be alone with our thoughts, so we stayed there, resting in front of the fire. Night had become a perilous time, when I sifted endlessly through paths I could or should have taken. I could have shot Jaxon in the Archon. I could have cut his throat in the scrimmage. I should have had the mettle to tell Warden the truth. I should have done better, done more, done otherwise.
I needed to consider what had been said at the gathering, but I was so worn out that I lost my train of thought and drifted back to sleep when I tried. Every time I woke, I thought Warden was with me. Every time I woke, there was less light in the fire.
Arcturus Mesarthim is nothing but her lure. Her bait. I remembered that long night when our dream-forms had touched for the first time. How easy it had been to laugh when I danced with him in the music hall.
And you, my darling – you fell for it. It felt real when he held me, but I might have been too trusting. Did he do it all on Terebell’s orders?
Was I a fool?
At some point Nick fell asleep, and then it was his words on my mind. I keep imagining what Jaxon might have planned for him.
I imagined, too. And so imagination became my nemesis; my mind created monsters out of nothing. I imagined how Scion would punish us if they found our nests of sedition. How Nashira would hurt those I loved if she ever got her hands on them.
I had sent people to check the apartment complex where my father lived. They had reported Vigiles outside. He might be in there, under house arrest. Or perhaps they were waiting for me.
A burner phone was in my jacket pocket. Carefully, I slid it free.
I hit the first key, lighting up the screen. My thumb hovered over the next number. Before I could press it, I replaced the burner and put my head down. Even if he was alive, Scion would have tapped his phone line. He had to forget me. I had to forget him. That was how it had to be.
3
Judgement
‘The Underqueen’s court recognises Divya Jacob, a chiromancer of the second order, also known as the Jacobite. Miss Jacob, you stand accused of a most abominable crime: assisting the Rag and Bone Man and his network in the capture and sale of clairvoyants to Scion, resulting in their detainment, enslavement, and, in some cases, death, in the penal colony of Sheol I. Tell us how you plead, and the ?ther will determine the truth of your words.’
The Pearl Queen, leading the proceedings, was standing on the stage in a suit of black velvet and pearl embroidery, a dainty pillbox hat perched on her hair. Seated behind her, I was also dressed more elegantly than usual: a shirt of ivory silk with long, belled sleeves; beautifully cut trousers, and a sleeveless jacket of crimson velvet, richly embroidered with gold roses and fleur-de-lis. My curls were arranged in a sort of ordered chaos around my shoulders, and my face was painted. I felt like a doll on display.