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The woman smiled. ‘It did mess you up.’

Joan ground her teeth. She was planning something last time, Jamie had said. ‘Did I ruin your plans by unmaking him?’ Joan asked. ‘Did you need him for something?’

A flicker of irritation. ‘You inconvenienced me, but I’m resourceful.’ And then—as if she’d abruptly tired of the conversation—the woman stood. She beckoned to Joan with one finger, pale nail polish gleaming. Then she strode imperiously from the room in an elegant sweep of silk.

To Joan’s frustration, she was forced to scramble after her. At the same time, her mind was racing. Did it mess you up? The woman had wanted to hurt Joan, but she’d given away something too. Him killing your family was just a bonus. And: You inconvenienced me. Jamie had been right—the woman had been planning something. She’d wanted to use Nick for something.

The woman led Joan into the inner hall. It was the house hub, and guards streamed in and out of the breakfast room and the White Parlour to get to the west and east wings of the house. Aaron stood near the staircase, his posture stiff.

As the woman and Joan entered, the busy guards stopped and stood at attention. By the staircase, Aaron put a hand to his chest and folded into a perfect bow.

‘The Lady Eleanor of the Curia Monstrorum!’ a guard announced.

Joan stepped back, shaken. The Curia Monstrorum—the members of the Monster Court—were the King’s arms and executioners: the enforcers of his law. And if Joan’s situation here had seemed bad before, it was dire now. The Curia Monstrorum had power beyond any equivalent in the human world.

‘Rise,’ the woman said to Aaron. She’d always carried herself with authority, and she looked regal now, as if that golden head should have borne a crown.

Aaron straightened, his grey eyes fixed on her in awe.

Joan stared too. She should have guessed Eleanor’s position—how else could she have commanded guards? Who else could have locked up Jamie in the Monster Court? Could have amended the family records to hide Nick’s massacres …

At the same time, it seemed even more strange that Eleanor could have ever known Joan—in any timeline. This was a woman who ruled the monster world, beneath only the King himself.

‘You may approach,’ Eleanor told Aaron, and Aaron walked over from the stairs, head ducked shyly. He stopped a few paces away.

‘I understand you found the fugitives,’ Eleanor said. ‘The boy and the girl.’

‘Yes, my lady,’ Aaron whispered.

‘You have done very well,’ Eleanor told him. ‘You have pleased the Court. You have pleased me.’

Aaron flushed pink all the way to the collar of his black shirt, drinking in Eleanor’s approval like an under-watered flower.

Joan pressed her nails into the palms of her hands. Eleanor’s smile somehow made her look colder. It was the same smile she’d given Nick when she’d told him he was perfect. Joan couldn’t bear the thought of Eleanor hurting Aaron like she’d hurt Nick.

Aaron was more vulnerable than he seemed—loyal to the core. And Joan hadn’t realised until this moment how desperate he was for approval from an authority figure. Had he ever received it from his cruel father? I wonder sometimes if you’re even my blood, Edmund had told Aaron in front of the entire Oliver family. No son of mine would be so weak.

‘Why are you doing all this?’ Joan said, wanting to draw Eleanor’s attention from Aaron.

A jolt of the leash from Aaron—Joan felt it in every joint. Not painful exactly, but humiliating enough to be irritating. ‘Watch your tone, or hold your tongue!’ he said, voice low. ‘You stand before a member of the Curia Monstrorum. The Lady Eleanor herself.’

Cruel amusement flashed over Eleanor’s face—quicksilver, like a brief ripple in a still lake—it seemed oddly directed at Aaron as much as Joan.

Why was Eleanor doing this to them? Why had she split lovers into a monster and monster slayer? Why had she mentioned Aaron earlier—that blond boy?

For a second, under Eleanor’s cool gaze, Joan felt as if she were standing high above, looking down at them all, tangled up in something complicated and big: Joan, Nick, Aaron, Eleanor …

Joan opened her mouth to ask again where Nick was, and her throat spasmed without sound. She tried again, but the only noise from her mouth was air. She turned to Aaron. Watch your tone, or hold your tongue, he’d said. Had he silenced her with that cuff? Joan opened her mouth again. Aaron, let me speak! I need to talk! But Aaron wasn’t even looking at her anymore—his attention had turned reverently back to Eleanor.

Eleanor smirked at Joan and gestured to Aaron with a curl of her fingers. ‘Follow me.’

Aaron started after Eleanor, and the leash made Joan stumble along with him. Aaron, she tried to say. To her frustration, she couldn’t make a sound.

Eleanor led them up the principal staircase, past the familiar tapestries and chocolate-curl wall carvings. Where was she taking them?

Watch your tone, or hold your tongue. Joan took a deep breath, trying to gather herself. Maybe she’d be able to speak if she watched her tone. ‘Aaron,’ she managed. It worked. She was able to speak as long as she sounded calm. She took another breath, trying to keep the fear from her voice. ‘Something’s going on here. Something bad.’ She reached for him, but the cuff tugged her hand back down. Joan ground her teeth. Stop moving me around, she tried to say. Aaron didn’t look back—didn’t know she was trying to speak, and somehow that was even more humiliating than if he’d watched her mouthing the words. ‘You can’t trust Eleanor,’ she managed.

Eleanor threw an amused look over her shoulder, and Aaron flushed red, as if Joan was showing him up.