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His eyes narrowed. For a second, Joan was sure he was going to ask what she knew of the true Oliver power. But he just said, ‘What do you want?’

‘We need your help,’ Joan said. ‘Eleanor’s working against the King. She’s trying to create a new timeline, and I’ve seen it. If she succeeds, people will die.’ In uncountable numbers, Astrid had said.

‘I told you. That’s not possible,’ Aaron said.

‘What’s not possible? Another timeline?’

‘All of it!’

‘You saw another timeline tonight,’ Joan said. ‘You saw that tear appear in the library. It showed the previous timeline inside it!’ Her throat tightened as she saw it again in her mind’s eye, the way she’d looked at Nick; the way he’d looked at her. The sound he’d made as she’d started to unravel his life.

‘You lie like a Hunt,’ Aaron said, but with a touch of uncertainty. It occurred to Joan then that Aaron might not have had a clear view of the scene in the library. As soon as the seal had opened, Aaron had bent over double, retching. The tear in the timeline had made him sick. ‘I don’t know what I saw,’ he said even more uncertainly.

‘I’m not lying to you,’ Joan whispered. ‘Aaron … there was another timeline before this one.’

‘If you start preaching to me about the true timeline—’

‘I’m not talking about the zhenshí de lìshi. I’m talking about a timeline where something went wrong. A timeline where the human hero was real.’

Aaron paused then, long enough that Joan knew he’d seen or heard something at the guard house about Nick being the hero. Still, he said, ‘The human hero is a fairytale.’

Joan shook her head. ‘There was another timeline before ours. He was real in that one.’ She knew how ridiculous the idea would sound to Aaron, though. She was telling him that a fairytale was real. ‘In that timeline, he killed our families. Yours and mine. And then you and I worked together to stop him. To bring our families back to life. And we did. They’re alive again in this timeline.’

Aaron’s expression had been getting more and more sceptical as Joan went on, and now he barked a laugh. ‘This is so far-fetched that I don’t even understand the game!’

‘Aaron, it’s the truth! We knew each other before this.’

‘I’d rather have this interrogation with the Griffith. At least he seemed sane.’

Joan opened her mouth to snap back at him, but the urge twisted into a nostalgic ache. She’d even missed this—the way he always pushed back at her. ‘We were friends,’ she said. ‘And the hero didn’t just exist. Eleanor took a boy and made him into the hero. She made him into a monster slayer.’

‘Hell, bring the Nightingale in,’ Aaron said. ‘I’d rather be tortured than listen to you tell me that we were friends. I’d rather Sebastien Nightingale drained my life.’

That should have stung. But Aaron’s voice had cracked as he’d said Nightingale, and Joan’s heart stuttered at the fear and misery underneath his stiff mask.

‘The Nightingales really hate you,’ Joan said, and she regretted it when Aaron’s expression closed again.

‘They don’t like people who betray Nightingales,’ Aaron said. ‘And my mother was a Nightingale.’

Joan searched his face. His jaw was stiff. He’d barely spoken about his mother when she’d known him, but she’d had the impression of deep emotion from him every time he had.

‘Sebastien said you turned her over to the Court.’

‘I don’t need the recap. It was barely fifteen minutes ago,’ Aaron said tightly. ‘You know why she was executed, right? Because she was helping someone like you.’

‘Yes,’ Joan whispered. ‘That’s why you told me you wanted to watch my execution. Because your mother died for someone like me.’ And it hurt to say that out loud—to acknowledge that Aaron hated her in this timeline. But at the same time, she saw Aaron’s cold expression slip again; he looked sick. Joan swallowed. ‘I don’t care what Sebastien said. I know you didn’t betray your mother to the Court. You’d never have done that to someone you loved.’

Another crack in Aaron’s expression. ‘You’re not even asking me questions anymore,’ he said. ‘You’re just saying things! What’s the point of this?’

Joan couldn’t make sense of it. ‘Why are you letting the Nightingales hate you for something you didn’t do?’

Aaron’s fists clenched. ‘Stop pretending you know me. This mind-fuck isn’t working on me.’

‘I know you would have protected her,’ Joan said.

‘You don’t know anything about me!’

‘You protected me last time. When the Court came after me, you took me to a safe house.’