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What had Corvin said to him last night? I’d have thought you’d seize this opportunity. From what I hear, you need the redemption in his eyes.

Was Aaron hoping to get back into Edmund’s good graces? If he captured fugitives for the Court, maybe he’d find favour with his father again.

Joan glanced over at Nick. Like everyone else, his dark eyes were fixed on Aaron.

Now the cherry-seller backed up to the edge of the tent. ‘There’s a wardrobe behind the stall,’ he murmured under his breath. ‘Inside, you’ll find a lever on the floor. Up twice, then down, then up again. Go now before the guards circulate.’

Joan didn’t let herself hesitate, although she wished she could have asked for the man’s name. He’d risked himself to help, and Edith had done the same. If she could repay this, she would.

The wallpaper was hand-painted to look like shadowed trees. Joan tried not to panic as she searched for any kind of handle; any kind of outline showing a cupboard. Beside her, Nick ran the flat of his hand over the wall, trying to feel for it.

A flicker behind them. Fluorescent lights snapped on. Joan blinked in the sudden brightness. For a split second, she was sure that they’d be seen; they were concealed behind the tent, but only from certain angles. The darkness had been their best protection.

But the light had illuminated the indentation of the door handle too. Joan grabbed for it, and she and Nick darted inside. She had a second to glimpse a tiny space full of coats before she got the door shut behind them, plunging them into darkness. She dropped to her knees, trying to feel for the lever, pushing aside shoes and something soft. A scarf?

‘Found it,’ Nick whispered beside her. A second later, a mechanism sounded—a barely audible whir—and the entire back wall of the wardrobe swung open like a door.

Ahead, there was a windowless brick passage, sparingly lit with naked bulbs. A rush of déjà vu hit Joan as she got to her feet. There’d been a hidden door like this at Whitehall Palace. Aaron had been with her that time. They’d saved each other’s lives over and over by then …

Now, behind them, the raid started in earnest, barely muted by Nick closing the secret door. Guards shouted orders and footsteps shuffled. Joan pictured Aaron examining each person in the room, one by one—looking for the half-human girl with a forbidden power and the human boy she’d run away with.

Joan couldn’t drag her mind from him as she and Nick hurried through the passage. Behind them, the sounds faded. They climbed down a flight of concrete stairs and then another. The brickwork changed from yellowish to red and then brown, as if they were entering other buildings.

That filth. That was what Aaron would think of her if he caught her now. Joan couldn’t imagine him ever laying a hand on her, but he’d always had the Court mandate to kill her. The whole time he’d known her, he’d been disobeying the Court.

I won’t remember what you mean to me.

‘You okay?’ Nick murmured. Joan blinked up at him. He’d been paying closer attention to her than she’d realised. When she nodded, he said, ‘That was Aaron? The boy from the garden?’

The weight in her chest felt like a physical thing—a lump of iron lodged in her heart. ‘Yes.’

‘You were more than just acquaintances, weren’t you?’ Nick said softly.

Joan drew a sharp breath, and something achingly gentle touched Nick’s expression—so gentle that Joan swallowed. She could imagine what he was thinking—that she and Aaron had been something to each other, and that Aaron had sold her out. It hadn’t been like that, though. Aaron was loyal to the core. He’d never have sold anyone out.

‘The way you’ve seen him … He’s not like this.’ Joan didn’t know why she needed to say it, but she couldn’t bear for Nick’s image of Aaron to stand.

Scepticism started in Nick’s face, but then they turned the next corner, and he shifted to alert. Ahead there was a short flight of stairs down, and a heavy door.

‘End of the line,’ Joan whispered, tensing. What was on the other side of that door? Where had they ended up?

The staircase was stone, misshapen and weatherworn, as if it had once been outside. Even with the door shut, Joan could smell the marine brine of the river.

Nick gestured for Joan to open the door, positioning himself in case someone attacked. Joan took a breath and turned the handle, cracking the door just enough to show a slice of light. They were in a brick-walled alley. Joan went to push the door wider, and a shadow moved.

Before Joan could react, a voice spoke: ‘Joan? You need to come with me.’

A figure appeared. For a moment, all Joan could see was a tall silhouette. And then her eyes adjusted to make out a handsome man in his mid-twenties with delicate Chinese features.

‘Jamie?’ she whispered. ‘Jamie Liu?’ Beside her, she felt Nick relax; he’d been ready to attack, waiting for her cue. ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered to Jamie. She hadn’t seen him since the summer. I remember, he’d told her. The Liu family power was perfect memory, but some of the Lius had a stronger ability than that—Jamie remembered fragments of the previous timeline. The one Joan had erased.

Joan marvelled now at how healthy Jamie looked. He’d never revealed what had been done to him in the other timeline, but in the smuggled video, he’d been gaunt, his fingers crooked and broken. He was still slim now, but he looked strong.

‘Edith got word to me,’ Jamie whispered. ‘Tom’s waiting with the boat.’ He stopped. ‘Is someone with you?’

Joan blinked, realising that she’d halted in the doorway; that the door was still barely cracked. She stepped into the alley, and Nick followed her out.

‘Who—’ Jamie cut himself off. Shock and recognition spread across his face as he took in Nick’s features, his muscled arms. His eyes flew to Joan’s in disbelief. ‘Why is he here?’