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Jamie was bone white. In the other timeline, he’d been the Royal Archive—witness and recorder of the aftermath of Nick’s massacres. He, more than anyone, knew who Nick was and what he’d been capable of. Dozens and dozens of massacres, Jamie had said once.

‘Why is he with you?’ Jamie said shakily. ‘Joan, why would he be anywhere near you?’

Nick was clearly confused by Jamie’s reaction. ‘We were attacked,’ he explained. ‘Me and Joan.’ To Joan he said, ‘I don’t want to make trouble for you.’

‘It’s okay,’ Joan assured him. She could hear the tremor in her own voice belying the words. ‘Let me talk to Jamie for a second, okay? I need to tell him what happened.’

It was a long alley. To Joan’s relief, Jamie let her draw him farther up it, toward the river and out of earshot. Without being asked, Nick retreated to the street end.

She could feel Nick’s eyes on her as she whispered to Jamie: ‘Court Guards came for me, and he fought them off. He saved my life!’ She willed Jamie to understand; for Nick not to wonder about Jamie’s reaction. ‘And now the Court’s after him too. We have to keep him safe!’

‘You can’t be serious,’ Jamie hissed. ‘We both know who he is!’

‘He doesn’t remember! You know he doesn’t! He isn’t the same person anymore!’

‘Isn’t he?’ Jamie said fiercely.

Joan’s chest tightened with that familiar ache. ‘No.’

Jamie’s eyes darkened in sympathy and anger. ‘I know what he was to you, but, God, Joan! He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing! How many of us did he kill? Hundreds? Thousands? And—’ Jamie looked over at the door they’d just exited. ‘You just came out of an inn,’ he said disbelievingly. ‘You took him into a monster inn. He’ll be able to find it again!’

‘He isn’t a danger anymore,’ Joan said. ‘He’s in danger. We barely escaped. We’ve been on the run since yesterday afternoon. If there’s a safe place we can go—’

‘You want me to take him to a safe house? On my boat?’ Emotions flitted across Jamie’s face: fear and anger.

The attackers had almost killed Nick yesterday. He’d stood still and helpless under the Argent power. ‘He can’t protect himself,’ Joan whispered. Please, she willed. Please understand.

Jamie put a shaking hand to his mouth. What was he seeing in that perfect mind’s eye? Dozens and dozens of massacres. Was he seeing the aftermath of them? The people Nick had killed?

‘I’m sorry,’ Joan whispered to him. ‘I’m really sorry. You don’t owe me anything, I know. I owe your family. But … he saved my life in the attack. He doesn’t deserve any of this. And I can’t just leave him here alone.’

Movement at the other end of the alley. Nick was waving at them.

‘The guards are coming,’ Joan whispered. ‘Jamie, if you can’t help us, just tell me, and I’ll take him somewhere else. But I can’t leave him.’

Jamie stared at Nick for a long moment. Long enough for Joan to think he’d decided to leave her and Nick in the alley. But his jaw tightened. He beckoned.

‘Thank you,’ Joan said as Nick jogged toward them.

‘Don’t thank me,’ Jamie whispered to her. He watched Nick’s approach, face grim. ‘This is against my better judgement.’

Jamie’s words echoed as Joan followed Nick’s broad-shouldered figure and Jamie’s slender one. She could feel Nick’s questions building as Jamie took them on a roundabout route to avoid the guards.

They stopped near Southwark Bridge. There, an illegal pontoon bobbed under the high embankment wall. Lashed to it was a Dutch barge, rocking in the choppy water. Joan made out a two-headed hound painted along the side—the sigil of the Hathaways.

‘We’re climbing down?’ Joan asked. There was an ancient river staircase against the wall, lethally steep. Iron bars had been installed to prevent people from accessing it. Had anyone been down there in the last hundred years?

‘It’s perfectly safe,’ Jamie said. It was curt but polite—Jamie was always polite—but tension simmered underneath it. Joan wished they hadn’t met again like this. ‘The Hathaways use these river accesses all the time.’

Jamie climbed over the barrier, and then held out his hand to help Joan too. She clambered over and grasped for the handrail fixed to the wall. The water side of the staircase was a sheer drop down.

Joan checked on Nick, but he didn’t need help. He was already scaling the barrier with the surefooted agility of a cat.

They made their way down. Halfway, the stone became green with slippery high-tide lichen. There, even Jamie needed to grip the rail.

Joan found herself remembering the day she’d met Jamie. She’d gone to him seeking information—Jamie had been obsessed with the legends of the hero. At the time, he’d thought they were only stories.