Page 116 of Once a Villain
“That won’t work this time,” Mum said, frowning thoughtfully. “There won’t be enough guests at the gate to confuse the guards.”
“Therewasanother way in,” Joan remembered now. “Gran gave me a key to the Court.” She glanced at Nick, who tilted his head. Nick had taken it from Joan; he didn’t remember that either.
“A key?” Mum said. She was really frowning now. “My mother had a key to the Court?”
“Maybe she has it in this timeline too,” Joan said. “It almost looked like a family chop.” She closed her eyes, trying to recall what it had looked like.I’ve never seen this sigil, Ruth had said. “There were words on it—Not for self, but for King. And the sigil was a chimera of some kind, with knots in the tail.”
Mum tilted her head, as if that description was familiar. “We can’t go to your grandmother for help here, though,” she said, a little apologetically. “My mother isn’t the woman you know here—she can’t be trusted in this timeline.”
Gran had said as much when they’d spoken to her in the tear, but Joan’s heart sank. “Then we’ll need another way in.”
“I’m afraid so,” Mum said.
“Can we find someone who’s been before? Getting in isn’t the only problem. We need to know about the event itself.”
“Noone knows that,” Mum said.
“What do you mean?”
“No one remembers anything from that party,” Mum said. “Very few people even admit that they’ve attended—they’re not supposed to speak of it. The few who remember anything say that they recall walking through the gates and then leaving again, with nothing in between.”
“Nothing at all?” Joan said. The unease from earlier increased. Assuming they could get in, they’d walk in utterly unprepared. Eleanor had bested them in almost every confrontation they’d had with her, and the stakes now were so high. Joan put her head in her hands and felt her mother’s touch briefly on her shoulder.
“I think you should all have a rest,” Mum said. “When did you last sleep?”
Joan had slept a little at the inn, but Aaron hadn’t really, and Nick was fresh out of the arena. But still...
“Thereistime,” Mum said firmly, anticipating their protests. “Just an hour or so. Your friends are on their way here from the Chimera Inn. I think you should lie down for a bit—just until they get here. It’s still morning, and—as I said—the gates won’t open until midnight.”
Mum led them to three guest rooms in the attic before leaving them. The rooms were small, but cozy and private, smelling of fresh linen and sun-warmed wood. Joan knew she should lie down, but she found herself turning to the view of the river. This side of the building looked out onto the Tower of London. It was high up enough that Joan felt like she was in the Tower herself.
A soft knock at the door made her turn. Nick was in the hallway. Behind him, Aaron’s door opened.
Aaron saw Nick and began to close his door again, but Joan beckoned them both. She was dreading their unfinished conversation, but at the same time the tension was becoming unbearable.
“Well... ,” Aaron said, trailing into Joan’s room after Nick. He shut the door behind him. “This is wonderfully awkward, isn’t it?”
“I think this was my bedroom in the original timeline,” Joan said. “It’s so familiar....” The smell, most of all. There was a touch of rose water in the air, mixed with fresh laundry and the brine of the river.
“It reminds me of my actual room,” Aaron said. “Just the size of it,” he clarified. “Everything else about it is much more pleasant.” He sank onto the little bed, and after a moment Joan sat beside him. There was room for Nick on her other side, but he sat on the floor under the window, his back against the wall, and stretched out his legs along the length of the bed.
“Imagine,” Aaron said to Joan. “If thiswasyour room in the true timeline, the two of you probably spent a lot of time getting it on in here.”
Joan felt herself redden. A flush rose on Nick’s neck too.
“You’re really making it less awkward,” Nick said dryly. He was silent for a beat. “Why do you say it’s the size of your actual room? We spent the last three weeks in a mansion bigger than all of Yorkshire.”
“Did I say room? I meant the shoe nook in my closet.”
Nick shot him a sharp look, and Aaron shrugged.
“Where do we start?” Joan asked.
“Honestly”—Nick’s eyes dropped to his shoes—“I’d be just as happy if we never talked about it. If we just saved the world and never talked about it again.”
“And I thoughtIhated talking about my feelings,” Aaron said.
“I think all three of us have that in common,” Joan said. She picked a bit of lint from the quilt. The fabric was blue with white stripes, adding to the nautical feeling from the view. “I mean, as a plan, I don’t mind it.... I like the part where we save the world.”
