Page 74 of Once a Villain
The colosseum wasn’t in sight yet, but on the map, it stretched from Cheapside almost all the way to the London Wall, far larger than the original historical version. It now accommodated fifty thousand people, at least, and Tom had said that every seat would be filled today.
Aaron hated crowds, and the jostling was getting to him. He kept flicking looks at Joan, and even Nick—making sure their necks and throats were still covered.
Nick himself never got jostled; the crowd parted as he walked, people’s gazes following him as if they’d sensed a charismatic presence among them. He’d often reminded Joan of an old-fashioned king, although he’d never seemed aware of that quality in himself. Joan felt it, though, when someone shoved past her. Nick shifted protectively closer to her, and she saw the path ahead miraculously clear.
Most of the people in the crowd were human, their own pendants naked on their necks. And everyone—human and monster—wore roses, woven into buttonholes and pinned into hair and on lapels.
“We need roses too,” Joan realized. Or they’d stand out.
“I’ll get some,” Ruth said. She was getting antsy—Joan could see it.
“Don’t steal them,” Joan whispered.
Ruth twisted her mouth in ayou’re no funway, but she dug into her pocket for some coins. Aaron’s counterpart had kept plenty of cash in his desk drawer, and they’d divvied it up between them.
A minute later, she was back with a bunch of roses, thorns shaved from their long stems. The guys put theirs in buttonholes, and Ruth put hers in her hair.
Joan wound her own rose into her scarf, ending with the flower against her neck. She found herself thinking, as she did, of the Grave symbol: the silver rose.
After the King had erased the Graves, he’d forced Eleanorto wear a new sigil—a thorned rose stem without the flower. A reminder, always, of what he’d done to her family.
Joan still hadn’t seen any of the Graves here, but she’d been thinking of them more and more. The last time she’d scouted this route, she’d considered walking a few streets farther to London Bridge.
Maybe she’d have seen people wearing silver pins.
Maybe she’d have seen Mum—if Mum was still alive here. Would Joan have recognized her? Or had she been disappeared, like Dad maybe had?
At the thought of Mum, a familiar pressure of emotion started. Joan pushed it down automatically, but a curling thread of sadness, of hurt persisted. She’d always been able to contain these feelings, but lately they’d begun to leak, like steam from the edges of a lidded pot.
Shehadto keep containing them, though. Because the truth was, the Graves would probably be gone again in the new timeline. And if she thought about that too much, she really wouldn’t be able to bear it.
She glanced at Nick. They’d never resolved their disagreement about what kind of world to create when they seized control of the timeline from Eleanor. Nick hadn’t wavered from his desire to intentionally mold some kind of utopia—where monsters and humans lived together in peace.
Joan, though, hadn’t been able to reconcile that with the idea of moldingpeopleto create that world.
The others had argued for reverting the timeline to what used to be here—or as close as they could get. It had been fiveagainst one in the end. Everyone against Nick.
Pressed against Nick’s side now, Joan wished she were more comfortable with her own position. Maybe Nickhadbeen right. She did want peace, desperately—a negotiated peace, where people were persuaded rather than forced. But what if that wasn’t even possible? What if Nick’s way was the only way?
Nick must have sensed her unease, because he tucked her closer now. “It’s going to be okay,” he said—soft enough in the loud crowd that it was just for her. “We’ll be back home soon.We’llbe okay.”
Joan nodded. That couldn’t come soon enough for her. Ahead, threads of smoke drifted above the colosseum. “Are they burning bodies?” she said. “Already?”
Tom looked up. “Not bodies,” he said. “On jubilee days, they burn scented oils and dried flowers in the Queen’s name. Not just at the colosseum, but in homes.”
Now that he’d mentioned it, there was a slight fug of sweet oils under the stronger scent of burning wood. And something else. “Is that incense?” Joan asked.
“They’ll have incense burning all day,” Tom said with a nod. “To mask the smell of blood.”
Joan took that in with a shiver. She found herself giving Tom a second glance. Jamie seemed completely comfortable around him now. Joan herself still had doubts, but Tom’s growing feelings for Jamie were undeniable. No matter where he was, his gaze always turned back to Jamie.
“Glad we didn’t bring Frankie and Sylvie,” Jamie said. “This is chaos....”
They turned the corner onto the A4—the old Roman Road. Eleanor had widened and straightened the street, transforming it into a long parade route. Joan heard her breath hiss out as the now-familiar statue of Eleanor came into view at the end of the road. She was a tower of gleaming white marble, her mouth curled into a cruel smile. Rose petals flooded the road all the way to her plinth.
“All hail the eternal Queen,” Nick said dryly.
The creepy thing was that everyone aroundwasclearly in awe of Eleanor. Humans, wearing pendants, scattered rose petals as they made their way up the road to the colosseum—where hundreds of people would soon be killed in Eleanor’s honor.
