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‘You can’t expect me to believe that. Not when you sold out everyone in Oxford, all for—’

‘Oh, the Inquisitor take you, you little hypocrite. Do you really suppose that I expected Nashira to slaughter the entire city?’

His tone was suddenly cold. My entire body tensed, trained to react to his anger.

‘I imagined that she might punish the humans,’ he said, ‘but not that she would let the Emim kill them all. In fact, I expected her rage to fall squarely upon Arcturus and his Rephaite accomplices, and I had no reason to care about them. For all I knew, Arcturus was as heartless as the rest, and his so-called rebellion was a ruse, designed to root out the disloyal. I was, and remain, astonished that Nashira chose that option.’

Jaxon was a consummate liar. I shouldn’t buy into this.

Except that I had seen his dreamscape. It looked like Nunhead Cemetery, where he had unlocked his gift, allowing him to make his way to the highest circles of power in London. But now I remembered one fine detail, staining his safe place, as difficult to clean as blood.

Every one of those graves bore a number. A number for each human killed in the Novembertide Rebellion.

Even a dreamscape could be tainted.

‘Do not stand in judgement of me, Underqueen. I have stomached that for too long,’ Jaxon said curtly. ‘If someone had offeredyoua chance to sow discord between the Rephaim, ensuring your escape, you know you would have taken it. Look me in the eye and tell me you would have been any nobler, were it not for Arcturus. That you would have put a Rephaite above yourself. That you would have wasted an opportunity to reclaim your old life.’

He was right. More than once in Oxford, I had considered betraying Arcturus. I had outright threatened him with it. And part of me knew I had meant every word.

‘I didn’t think so.’ Jaxon looked out at the city. ‘As for what happened with Cordier, I told her to separate you from Arcturus, and to keep you safe. Nothing more or less.’

‘You believe we can negotiate with Nashira. That endangers the Mime Order,’ I said. ‘How are we going to rule together when my entire campaign is based on overthrowing her?’

‘I’m not an idiot, darling. An idealist, but not an idiot,’ Jaxon said. ‘At present, Nashira would crush the syndicate at the first hint of its whereabouts. I believe we should remain open to negotiating with her, at some point in the future, but that would be a joint decision. If you insist that the Mime Order continues to work with the Ranthen—’

‘I do insist.’

‘—then I will let go of my hopes for peace with their enemy, and hope they prove capable of protecting us. Trust that I am willing to join your revolution, if only so that voyants will no longer be forced to live at the mercy of amaurotics.’ His face softened. ‘Do you know the story of Persephone and Hades?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘but I’m sure you’re about to regale me with it.’

‘Hades was the ruler of the underworld in Ancient Greece. He took a fancy to Persephone, the goddess of spring,’ he said. ‘When Persephone was picking a narcissus flower, Hades opened a chasm in the earth, which swallowed her up, into the realm of shadows beneath.’

Those gods really were terrible.

‘Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, who oversaw the harvest,’ he continued. ‘Realising her child was gone, she let the earth wither. The harvests failed; the flowers died. The gods intervened, and it was agreed that Persephone would be allowed to leave the underworld. But Hades had tricked her into eating a handful of pomegranate seeds, binding her to the domain of the dead. And so, for all eternity, Persephone was queen of the underworld. For half the year, she lived with Hades. For the other half, she lived above.’

The temptation of it was an ache, as sudden as it was intense. The sunlight and the dark.

I might have both, if I took this plunge.

‘You’ll never admit it, but I know you. I have seen the side of you that thrives in conditions of chaos. You don’t just want to sit on a throne. Not with a gift – and a spirit – like yours. You belong in the vanguard of this war,’ Jaxon said. ‘You are restless and wild, yearning for a chance to spread your wings. The Ranthen trusted you to rule, but they don’t know what it’s like to be twenty and mortal, because they never were.’

I dared not meet his eye, because I knew he would convince me.

‘You were away for a summer. Take a few months longer,’ Jaxon said gently. ‘You can be Persephone, the queen who comes and goes with the seasons – just as you leave your body, both dead and alive. I will be Hades, bound to the underworld, ruling for us both. Do we have a deal?’

My jaw tightened.

Jaxon Hall had manipulated me since I was sixteen years old. He was a cold-blooded narcissist whose charm was as dangerous as his gift, and who loved nothing but London.

He wasn’t a good man. I doubted he would ever become one. But good men did not make good Underlords, and I knew Jaxon would. He was born to delegate. If he was surrounded by people I trusted, like Nick and Maria, they could temper his crueller instincts.

‘Even if I agree to this,’ I said, ‘I do not forgive you for what you did to me and Arcturus this year. I never will, as long as I live.’

‘I don’t seek forgiveness, darling. Unlike the late Cardinal Rocha, I do not believe in sin.’ He tapped his cane. ‘Speak with the Ranthen, if you must. I will await your answer.’

I started to leave, then stopped.