Only a Monster(Monsters #1)(69)

‘You have?’ Joan said.

Someone nearby spoke. ‘Truly a relief to be in a room without humans.’

Joan froze. She knew that voice. The last time she’d heard it, there’d been a gun pointed at her head. She turned, catching a glimpse of Aaron’s face as she did. He’d gone paper-white.

Edmund Oliver stood a few paces away. Alive, and with the same powerful presence Joan remembered from the Gilt Room. He seemed barely younger than he’d been when he’d died.

As Joan stared, Edmund started to turn. She felt Aaron release her hand. Don’t let any Oliver close enough to see the colour of your eyes, Aaron had said.

Move, Joan told herself. Move. But she couldn’t seem to. She remembered how Edmund had looked down at her with that cold gaze. His eyes had widened as if he’d seen something inside her, and then he’d ordered Lucien to kill her.

‘Father,’ Aaron said.

To Joan’s profound relief, Edmund turned away from her, searching for Aaron’s voice. Aaron had walked away a few paces, closer to the harpist.

‘Hello, Father.’ Aaron’s posture was careless, one hand in his pocket. When Edmund’s lip curled in distaste, Aaron smiled slightly. ‘Aren’t you happy to see me?’

‘How did you get through the gate?’ Edmund said.

‘How?’ Aaron’s posture still seemed careless, but Joan knew him well enough now to see the strain in his eyes. ‘I’m an Oliver. I’m your son. My chop bears your name. That’s enough to get me on any guest list.’

For a second, rage flickered in Edmund’s cold eyes. ‘An Oliver?’ he said. ‘You’re not worthy of the name. I removed you from the line of succession. If I could have stripped you of your name too, I would have.’

Aaron’s casual posture didn’t change. Joan could hear people starting to whisper. Heads were turning. Aaron must be hating this, Joan knew. He was always so careful about how he appeared.

Joan wanted to shove Edmund away—to stop him from speaking—but she knew that Aaron was doing this for her. He’d drawn Edmund’s attention to keep him from looking too closely at her. She felt sick.

Aaron looked over Edmund’s shoulder at a blond boy about his own age, standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching the scene in silence. ‘Our new heir?’ Aaron’s mouth lifted, but there was no amusement on his face. ‘I had no idea the pool was so shallow.’

Edmund took a step toward Aaron. ‘Geoffrey knows where his loyalties lie.’ For a moment, Joan thought he was going to strike Aaron.

So did Aaron—he flinched. Edmund seemed to realise suddenly that he’d drawn a crowd. He grunted. And then he was striding away, the blond boy hurrying after him. Joan held her breath as Edmund swept past her, but he didn’t so much as glance at her.

As soon as Edmund was out of sight, Joan closed the gap. ‘Aaron,’ she said, trying to offer thanks or sympathy—she wasn’t even sure.

Aaron looked down at her for a long moment, and then his expression turned to the disdain Joan remembered from the Gilt Room. ‘I suppose you enjoyed the show?’

Joan was stung. ‘Of course not. Aaron, are you all—’

‘Why are you still standing here?’ Aaron interrupted.

‘Aaron,’ Joan said, but he was already pushing past her.



At the cascading fountain, Ruth looked impatient. Tom had shifted from drinking to eating, moving along a table laden with food. There were crispy pastries, folded origami-like into animal shapes: swans and deer. And food that Joan didn’t recognise: papery wafers and little iced cakes that looked sweet, but smelled of savoury herbs.

‘Mm,’ Tom said in acknowledgment of their arrival.

Frankie sniffed at Joan and then Aaron inquisitively. Joan bent to touch Frankie’s soft head. Her stomach was churning.

‘Where the hell have you two been?’ Ruth whispered.

‘Nowhere,’ Aaron said.

Tom paused to scoop up a handful of the delicate pastries and shove them into his pockets. ‘All right,’ he said with his mouth full. ‘Let’s go.’

Tom led them back to the first hall, past the line of fire-breathing statues.

Edmund had gone the opposite way, but Joan was afraid of running into him—afraid of what might happen if he noticed her. Beside her, Aaron was silent. He didn’t look at Joan when she tried to catch his eye.

They stopped in a room off the hall. It was small but ornate. The wallpaper was hand-painted with pink and gold flowers. One whole wall was a vast mirrored cabinet decorated in gleaming gold leaf. The other walls had display shelves.

Two other guests were already in the room, placing a vase and a small sculpture on an empty shelf. Joan saw then that the whole room was crammed with valuable objects, on shelves and laid on tables: necklaces, coronets, statues.

‘Gifts for the King,’ Tom said.

‘We didn’t bring a gift,’ Joan whispered.

‘I think that’s the least of our indiscretions tonight,’ Aaron muttered.

As soon as the other guests left, Tom strode to the far end of the room. ‘Someone keep watch on the door,’ he said. He slid his hand along the back of the cabinet.

There was a click, and a section of the cabinet wall swung open, revealing a dark room behind it.