I only sensed the dreamscape when it was far too close. With a jolt, I broke away from Warden and threw myself into the nearest chair. Maria strode in a moment later.
‘Forgot my coat. Still here, Warden?’
He inclined his head. ‘Paige and I had a private matter to discuss.’
‘Ah.’ She grabbed her coat from the back of a chair. ‘Paige, sweet, you look . . . feverish.’
‘I do feel a little warmer than usual,’ I said.
‘You should see Nick about it.’ Maria looked between us. ‘Well, don’t let me keep you.’
She slung her coat over her shoulder and left.
Warden stayed where he was. My blood was hot and restless in my veins. I felt tender all over, like his touch had stripped off armour I hadn’t known was there. There was no one else close, no one else coming.
‘I almost forgot about the hazards of being in your company,’ I said, trying to sound light.
‘Hm.’
Our eyes met briefly. I wanted, needed, to trust that this was real – but I was frozen by the reminder of the danger, and by the memory of Jaxon, that mocking laughter in his eyes. Arcturus Mesarthim is nothing but her lure. Her bait. And you, my darling – you fell for it.
‘I should . . . get some sleep.’ I stood. ‘It’s Ivy’s trial tomorrow.’
Her trial for being part of the grey market; for helping the Rag and Bone Man sell voyants into slavery.
‘You will come to the right decision,’ Warden said.
He knew, somehow, that I wasn’t sure what to do with her. ‘Is Terebell sending someone to witness the trial?’
‘Errai.’
Great. Errai was about as friendly as a punch in the mouth. ‘Do not give me that look,’ Warden said softly.
‘I’m not giving you a look. I love Errai.’ My smile faded almost as soon as it appeared. ‘Warden, I— never mind. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, little dreamer.’
The other three didn’t ask why I had taken so long to join them. Nick knew about Warden, and I had a feeling Eliza suspected. I sometimes caught her looking between me and Warden, eyes astir with curiosity.
We set off into the blizzard. As we fought our way through the wind, I tried not to think about what had just happened. Maria had come so close to seeing the truth, and while I doubted she would have gone to Terebell, she wouldn’t have been able to resist telling at least one of the other commanders. Our secret could have been out. No matter how much of a weight off my shoulders it had been to be close to him again, it was just too dangerous.
But I missed talking to him. I missed just being near him. I wanted him – but what I wanted might be an illusion. It had seemed so much simpler before I had become Underqueen.
When we passed a pharmacy at the end of a line of shops, Eliza stopped dead. Nick and I turned to look at her.
‘It’s okay,’ Nick said gently. ‘Come on. We’ll keep away from—’
‘Everything?’
‘You’ll be fine.’
Eliza hesitated before pressing on. We walked on either side of her, as if our auras could shield hers.
We never stayed long in our safe houses, but my favourite was the neglected terrace in Limehouse we arrived at now, which overlooked the marina. Once we were locked in, Danica went up to her room while Eliza retired to the cellar. I made myself a cup of broth.
One side of my head was beginning to throb. I didn’t know what we would do if we couldn’t get rid of Senshield. The location of its core must be top-secret, and the information that would help us was unlikely to seep into Danica’s department. It was hard not to give way to dread.
When I drank the broth, I hardly tasted it. I was exhausted from doubting everyone and everything. Suddenly I realised that no matter what I did next, I had to resolve my relationship with Warden. For three weeks, Jaxon’s words had sunk hooks in my mind and spread a poison of misgiving there. I had started to question Warden’s motives. To wonder if he was manipulating me on behalf of the Ranthen. They had chosen me to lead their rebellion, but they needed me to be willing. Pliable. Perhaps they thought a love-struck human, overcome by emotion, would be easy to influence. Perhaps they thought that if I wanted Warden badly enough, I would do anything for him.
Now paranoia swelled at the back of my mind every time I caught sight of him. More than likely, this was just what Jaxon wanted; more than likely, I was playing into my enemies’ hands.
There was only one thing to do about it. I could come right out and tell Warden what Jaxon had accused him of. Give him a chance to defend himself. It would take courage, but I wanted to be able to trust him.
In the parlour, Nick was sitting before the fire, leafing through reports. I could smell the wine on him from the doorway. He had always refused to touch alcohol until recently.
‘You miss him,’ I said quietly, dropping on to the couch beside him.
His voice was hoarse when he replied: ‘I miss him every minute. I . . . keep expecting to look up and see him.’
My conscience had stopped me throwing Zeke and Nadine out of Seven Dials. I had sent them an offer of shelter, regardless of their feelings towards me, but received no reply.
‘Have you told Warden what Jaxon said to you?’
I glanced at him. ‘How did you know?’
‘Same way you knew I was thinking about Zeke. I always know.’
We exchanged tired smiles. ‘If only Rephaim were so easy to read,’ I said, sinking back into the couch. ‘No. I haven’t told him.’
‘Don’t leave it too long. You never know when the chance to say things will just . . . disappear.’
We sat together in the gloom. He stared into the fire like he was trying to find something. I’d always thought I knew Nick Nygård’s face, down to the dent in his chin and the way his nose dipped slightly at the end. I had memorised how his pale eyebrows sloped upward, giving him a look of perpetual concern. But when the light found him at this angle, I sensed the unfamiliar.
‘I keep imagining what Jaxon might have planned for him,’ he said. ‘Look how badly Jax hurt you in the scrimmage.’
‘Zeke isn’t trying to steal his crown.’
He grunted, but I couldn’t blame him for worrying.
‘Terebell wants them gone, doesn’t she?’ When I didn’t answer, he shook his head. ‘Why haven’t you done it?’
‘Because I’m not heartless.’
‘You can’t risk appearing to have sympathy for your old gang. Jaxon’s gang.’ His voice was softened, on the cusp of slurring. ‘Do what you have to do. Don’t take my burdens on to your shoulders, sötnos.’
‘I’ll always have room on my shoulders for you.’
Nick smiled at that and draped an arm around me. I didn’t know what I would have done without him on my side. If he had chosen Jaxon, his friend of eleven years, instead of me.
Neither of us wanted to be alone with our thoughts, so we stayed there, resting in front of the fire. Night had become a perilous time, when I sifted endlessly through paths I could or should have taken. I could have shot Jaxon in the Archon. I could have cut his throat in the scrimmage. I should have had the mettle to tell Warden the truth. I should have done better, done more, done otherwise.
I needed to consider what had been said at the gathering, but I was so worn out that I lost my train of thought and drifted back to sleep when I tried. Every time I woke, I thought Warden was with me. Every time I woke, there was less light in the fire.
Arcturus Mesarthim is nothing but her lure. Her bait. I remembered that long night when our dream-forms had touched for the first time. How easy it had been to laugh when I danced with him in the music hall.
And you, my darling – you fell for it. It felt real when he held me, but I might have been too trusting. Did he do it all on Terebell’s orders?
Was I a fool?
At some point Nick fell asleep, and then it was his words on my mind. I keep imagining what Jaxon might have planned for him.
/> I imagined, too. And so imagination became my nemesis; my mind created monsters out of nothing. I imagined how Scion would punish us if they found our nests of sedition. How Nashira would hurt those I loved if she ever got her hands on them.
I had sent people to check the apartment complex where my father lived. They had reported Vigiles outside. He might be in there, under house arrest. Or perhaps they were waiting for me.
A burner phone was in my jacket pocket. Carefully, I slid it free.
I hit the first key, lighting up the screen. My thumb hovered over the next number. Before I could press it, I replaced the burner and put my head down. Even if he was alive, Scion would have tapped his phone line. He had to forget me. I had to forget him. That was how it had to be.
3
Judgement
‘The Underqueen’s court recognises Divya Jacob, a chiromancer of the second order, also known as the Jacobite. Miss Jacob, you stand accused of a most abominable crime: assisting the Rag and Bone Man and his network in the capture and sale of clairvoyants to Scion, resulting in their detainment, enslavement, and, in some cases, death, in the penal colony of Sheol I. Tell us how you plead, and the æther will determine the truth of your words.’
The Pearl Queen, leading the proceedings, was standing on the stage in a suit of black velvet and pearl embroidery, a dainty pillbox hat perched on her hair. Seated behind her, I was also dressed more elegantly than usual: a shirt of ivory silk with long, belled sleeves; beautifully cut trousers, and a sleeveless jacket of crimson velvet, richly embroidered with gold roses and fleur-de-lis. My curls were arranged in a sort of ordered chaos around my shoulders, and my face was painted. I felt like a doll on display.
Ivy stood before the stage in a moth-eaten blazer. One sleeve hung empty where her left arm had been folded into a sling. The other was bound to a brazier by a length of lapis-blue ribbon.
‘Guilty.’
Minty Wolfson’s pen scratched in the record book, which looked as if no one had touched it in a century. Apparently, all syndicate trials had to be chronicled for posterity.
‘Miss Jacob, please tell the court about your involvement with the Rag and Bone Man.’
I hadn’t seen Ivy since the scrimmage. She had been staying in a cell north of the river, kept in her own room to prevent revenge attacks. She had gained a little weight, and her hair, which had been shorn off in the colony, was coming through soft and dark.
With composure, she repeated the story she had told at the scrimmage of how she had been taken in by the Rag and Bone Man, made his mollisher, and ordered to send him talented voyants for ‘employment’.
He had vanished after the scrimmage, as had all his allies. Ivy was the loose end. Our last clue as to where he might have gone.
We were in another neglected building, a music hall near Whitechapel that had been closed down for showing free-world films. The high commanders and my mollishers were fanned out in seats on either side of mine, listening to Ivy describe the voyants’ suspicious disappearances. Errai Sarin stood in a corner at the back of the hall, while above us, in the gallery, were eighteen observers, who would report the trial to the rest of the syndicate.
‘You observed that these voyants were disappearing, and you became worried. You tipped off Cutmouth, who was mollisher supreme at the time,’ the Pearl Queen said, in her clear, fluting voice. ‘You must have thought her trustworthy. Will you describe your relationship?’
‘We were close. Once,’ Ivy said. ‘There was a time when we couldn’t have lived without each other.’
‘You were lovers.’
‘Objection, Pearl Queen,’ Minty piped up. ‘That is your insinuation. The accused has no obligation to—’
‘I don’t mind,’ Ivy said. ‘She fell in love with Hector when she joined the Underbodies, but yes. Before that, we were lovers.’
Minty shot the Pearl Queen an exasperated look, but noted down the information.
They combed through Cutmouth’s investigation of the Camden Catacombs, the imprisoned voyants she had found there, and her report to Haymarket Hector. How Hector’s lust for easy gold had persuaded him to join the grey market instead of suppressing it.
My gaze flitted towards Errai, who wore all black, as the Ranthen usually did. I knew he had little patience for syndicate politics, but I felt his scrutiny. He would report every word of the trial to Terebell.
‘Were you aware that the missing voyants were being sold to Scion for your master’s financial gain?’
‘No,’ Ivy said.
Minty continued scribbling as if her hand would drop off.
‘Who else was involved in the ring?’
‘The Abbess, obviously. Faceless, the Bully-Rook, the Wicked Lady, the Winter Queen, Jenny Greenteeth, and Bloody Knuckles. Some of their mollishers, too. Not Halfpenny,’ she added. ‘He didn’t know about it.’
A small relief. Halfpenny was well-liked, and I hadn’t wanted the evidence to force me into banishing him.
‘At any point,’ the Pearl Queen said, ‘did you see the White Binder, mime-lord of I-4, associate with the group?’
‘No.’
Murmurs from the gallery. I gripped the arms of my chair.
It was tough to believe that Jaxon, if he had been associated with the Sargas for two decades, hadn’t known about the grey market.
The Pearl Queen hesitated. ‘To your knowledge, did any members of the grey market have dealings with the White Binder or speak of his involvement?’
‘I wish I could say “yes”,’ Ivy said darkly, ‘but I won’t lie. It’s possible he could have been involved without my—’
‘No speculation, please,’ Glym rumbled. ‘This is the Underqueen’s court, not one of your palm-readings.’
She dropped her head. ‘For what it’s worth,’ she said, her voice a notch higher, ‘I’m sorry. I should have done more. And earlier.’
‘Yes, you should have, vile augur,’ someone bellowed down at her. ‘You earned your name!’
‘Scum!’
‘Enough,’ I barked at the gallery.
Some of them shut up at once, but after a lull of about five seconds, the abuse started again. The deep-seated hatred towards vile augurs was never going to disappear in a matter of weeks. Another one of Jaxon’s glorious contributions to the syndicate.
‘Silence.’ The Pearl Queen banged her gavel. ‘We will have no disruptions from the observers!’
Hearing the story for a second time had made it no less disturbing; I wondered how much more there was to it than Ivy knew. From the sound of her account, she had only been a pawn.
‘Now,’ the Pearl Queen said, ‘the æther must determine if any lie has passed the accused’s lips.’
Ognena Maria sprang down from the stage. She was a pyromancer, a kind of common augur that used fire to reach the æther. She struck a match and tossed it into the brazier, which was already piled with wood and kindling. Once a fire was burning, she said, ‘Come here, Ivy.’
Ivy shuffled towards the brazier. Maria placed a hand on her good shoulder and drew her closer.
The æther quavered. Maria leaned so close to the flames that sweat dewed her upper lip.
‘I can’t see a great deal,’ she said, ‘but the fire is bright and strong, and it was easy to light. Her words were truthful.’
She patted Ivy’s arm before leaving her. Ivy shied away from the flames.
‘The high commanders will now cast votes,’ the Pearl Queen said. ‘Guilty?’
She raised her own hand. A moment passed before Maria, Tom and Glym also held up theirs. Nick, Eliza, Wynn and Minty kept theirs down.
‘Underqueen, the deciding vote is yours.’
Ivy kept her head down. Scars were hatched into the smooth brown of her skin. The marks of Rephaite cruelty. I remembered her so clearly from the first night in the colony, with her electric-blue hair and trembling hands. She had been the most fearful of all of us, this woman who had helped sell other voyants into slavery; who had b
een with me in the darkest time; who had survived to cast a light on the corruption.
I had also spent years grafting for a mime-lord whose true nature I hadn’t known. I had carried out his orders without question. If I could work in the service of a traitor and end up as Underqueen, I had no right to deprive Ivy of a place in the syndicate for committing the same crime.
‘I have to find you guilty.’
She didn’t flinch, but Wynn did.
‘Under my predecessors, a crime like this would have been met with the death sentence,’ I continued. Wynn stood with a screech of chair legs. ‘However . . . these are exceptional circumstances. Even if you had known about the trade with Scion and sought help, you would have found none from the Unnatural Assembly. I also believe your crimes have been punished enough by your time spent in the penal colony of Sheol I.’
The scrabbling started again. Tom leaned towards me.
‘Underqueen,’ he whispered, ‘the lass was brave to come forward, but to have no sentence—’
‘We must send a message that sympathy with the grey market will not go unpunished,’ Glym said. ‘Clemency will show contempt for your voyants’ suffering.’
‘I wouldna go that far,’ Tom said, knitting his brows, ‘but a soft hand, aye. And you canna afford that.’
‘Hector would cut people’s throats if he was in the wrong mood,’ I pointed out. ‘In comparison to that, any punishment I give will seem weak. I can’t win this.’
Glym glanced at Ivy. ‘Death would be too extreme,’ he said, ‘but she must serve as an example. Too much mercy, and your voyants will assume that mercy will be your answer to all crimes.’
Wynn’s gaze was boring into me. Whatever I did next would estrange someone, whether on the stage or in the gallery.