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‘We’re not doing it like that!’ Joan told him.

‘Joan,’ Tom said, ‘if you can’t stomach this—’

‘We can’t force him to say everything on his mind!’ Joan said. ‘It’s violating! It’s—’ She looked around at them all. Tom and Nick were looming by the door like prison guards. Ruth and Jamie were still on the cot, Frankie quiet on Jamie’s lap. Ruth and Tom both looked grim, as if they’d have been fine for George to continue with the interrogation. Jamie looked troubled, though—and Nick … Joan had thought for a second that he’d been ready to stop George too, but his face had gone blank and unreadable.

Joan turned back to Aaron. His expression had smoothed again. She could still picture that sick look on his face, though. And he was still as far as he could get from them all, pressed against the brick wall, the cell-like window above him. I think I’m going to die here.

Joan couldn’t bear it. ‘I want to talk to Aaron alone.’

‘Is that a good idea?’ Nick said behind her. ‘Talking to him alone?’ Joan blinked at him. Nick had almost sounded protective, but that didn’t make sense after what had happened last night. Protective of their alliance, maybe.

‘It’s not a good idea,’ Ruth said.

‘No, this is not a good idea,’ Joan said, and George scowled, as if she’d insulted him directly. She supposed she was insulting his power.

‘We should restrain him if you want to be alone with him,’ Nick said, and Joan blinked at him again.

Joan looked at Aaron. His hands were in fists, white-knuckled. He was taller than her, but he’d always fought with words. She shook her head. ‘No restraints.’ She couldn’t stomach it.

Jamie stood up from the cot and drew Joan to the door. ‘Joan,’ he murmured. He glanced at Aaron and dropped to a whisper just for her. ‘This is a new timeline, and he’s a new person. He doesn’t know you anymore. This Aaron has been working with the Court to hunt you down and kill you.’

‘He doesn’t know me, but I know him,’ Joan whispered back. In this timeline, Nick was different. His whole life had changed. He hadn’t been brutally forged into the hero as a child; he’d lived an ordinary life. This Aaron, though, was almost identical to the Aaron who Joan had known. He’d lived the exact same life for seventeen years. The point of divergence hadn’t come until the massacre at Holland House.

Inside, he had to be the same Aaron, with the same unswerving sense of loyalty, the same secretly soft heart. He had to be.

Joan answered Jamie’s dubious expression. ‘Just give me an hour with him.’

Jamie sighed. ‘If you need to play it out, you can. But you have to know, you’re just hurting yourself. He isn’t the person you knew.’

‘If I don’t have anything in an hour, we can bring back George Griffith,’ Joan said. ‘Just let me talk to him. Please.’

Jamie looked troubled, but he backed up. ‘Come on,’ he said to the others. ‘Sometimes you need to play it all out to understand that things have changed.’ This was said so wearily that Joan wondered if he might be correct.

‘We’ll be right outside the door,’ Tom said. This was directed at Aaron, who offered a half shrug.

And just like that, Joan and Aaron were alone.

Joan turned to face him. Aaron had relaxed slightly now that he wasn’t outnumbered. He’d been pressed back against the wall, but now he looked more like he was leaning against it.

‘Aren’t you scared?’ he said.

‘Of you?’

‘I can see you’re half-human,’ Aaron said. ‘Aren’t you afraid that I’ll steal your life and use it to escape?’

Joan had been afraid every time she’d stepped into a monster space. She’d been afraid of Nick sometimes. She’d never been afraid of Aaron, though. ‘You wouldn’t do that.’

Even in here, flushed and with his hair awry, he was stupidly beautiful. And he was still the one who looked afraid. For all his casual posture, his grey eyes were wide and glazed. I think I’m going to die in here, he’d said.

‘You won’t die in here,’ Joan said to him. ‘I swear it.’

‘Don’t bother making promises you won’t keep,’ Aaron said. ‘Sebastien Nightingale gave away the end game. I’m not getting out of here.’

‘On my life,’ Joan said. ‘After we’ve talked, you can go anywhere you want.’

Aaron shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘You know, I think this would work better if the Griffith played good cop. I’d believe it more from him than a Court traitor.’ He tilted his head. ‘Do your friends even know what you are? About that power of yours?’

Joan heard herself take a sharp breath, and Aaron heard it too. He looked satisfied. His arrow had hit its target. Joan remembered again the guard’s words: Something forbidden. Something wrong. ‘You don’t know what I am,’ Joan said. That was what Aaron had told her last time. ‘The true Oliver power doesn’t tell you that. And … I don’t know either. I don’t know what this power is, or where it came from.’