Page 8 of Once a Villain
“You’d get arrested. Interrogated. Head on a pike.” Joan was surprised by how steady her voice sounded.
“Almost worth it.”
Joan closed her eyes for a moment. She missed him so much. He was right here, talking to her, but she missed the ease they used to have with each other. “We should check in.”
Nick touched her arm, the warmth of him like sunshine. “We need food,” he agreed. “And dry clothes.” He seemed to realize that he was touching her, and his hands were behind his back again.
“Since when does the Serpentine have this many staff?” Aaron said as they headed to the reception desk—an alcove in the corner of the room.
Joan wasn’t sure why, but unease coursed through her at the question. There were staff everywhere, clearing trays, polishing cutlery. One man was on his hands and knees, buffing the clawed foot of an empty table. They all wore a uniform: a long, bleached-white belted tunic with a black serpent design at the front.
“They’re all human,” Aaron said.
Joan’s stomach turned over. An image flashed into her head of Dad in place of the man on his hands and knees. Of Dad in that white tunic.Don’t think about it, she told herself. But her mind was already leaping forward to ask unbearable questions. WherewasDad right now? Where were the rest of her friends and family? Were they even alive here?
At the desk, the receptionist smoothed the back of his neck in a twitchy, habitual movement. He was around Joan’s height, with burnt-copper hair that reminded her uncomfortably of theman on the bridge who’d run. A pin on his lapel said:Ronan.
He addressed Aaron now. “Sir. How may I help you?” His downcast gaze made Joan uneasy.
Aaron produced an ink-black teardrop brooch with50engraved on the back. It was a travel token—an item imbued with fifty years of human life. “We want a suite—out of the way. No cleaning service. No disturbance.”
“Very good, sir.” Ronan didn’t flinch as he took the brooch. Joan did, though. Seeing a human forced to take that thing... Seeing his lack of reaction, as if this were his everyday life... “I’ll need all of your IDs,” Ronan added.
Aaron produced another brooch—this time a cameo with a woman’s head. The etched number on the back was50again.
Ronan barely hesitated. “Excuse me while I fetch your key.”
As soon as he was in the back room, out of earshot, Nick growled at Aaron: “How many of those do you have?”
“A few.”
“You’re just carrying around years of human life?”
Joan thought Aaron might be intimidated,and maybe he was, but he just scowled in response. “We don’t have any other way to pay. If you’d rather pickpocket one of those drunk gamblers in the dining room, feel free—”
Something caught Joan’s eye. There was a picture on the wall behind the reception desk—a photograph of a man. At first glance, it seemed like a strange and disturbing candid artwork; the man had huge, terrified eyes. And then Joan realized that there were words above the photo.William Beates. Monster. Executed for theft.
The hairs rose at the back of her neck as she registered thewhole wall for the first time. It was plastered with posters, new over old, peeling like wallpaper. Wanted posters. Execution notices. So many that she couldn’t take them all in.
“Joan.” There was a strange note in Ruth’s voice. She nodded at something high up on the wall.
One of the posters showed an illustration of a young woman with narrow eyes and high freckled cheekbones. A bow-shaped mouth. A jolt hit Joan. It was a drawing ofher. She was looking at herself.
Joan Chang-Hunt, the notice said.Human. Wanted for high treason against Queen and Court.
A sharp breath from Nick. He’d seen it too. Beside him, Aaron had gone very still.
Joan’s heart thudded. When they’d made it over the bridge without being captured, she’d wondered if Eleanor was searching for them at all. Well, here was her answer.
Were the others on the wall too? Had any of them been recognized? She glanced over her shoulder at the other patrons, catching the hard eyes of a man with a bushy beard; a woman with a scraped-back bun.
The sound of footsteps made her jump. She turned back just as Ronan reappeared from the back room.
“I’ve put you in the Ravencroft building,” he said to them. He slid a folded cardboard envelope across the counter. “Your key.”
“Thank you,” Joan managed. She pocketed the envelope. As she did, she caught an odd expression on Ronan’s face. For a split second, the deferential smile had dropped, replaced with a frown.
Hadheclocked her?
