“You have been seduced,” he said. “You don’t mean what you say. She has twisted your thoughts. She has tricked you with gold and glamour. She has promised to take you away from here.”

This time, his barb shot home. “Sid has never made me any promises.”

“I will tell,” he said. “I will denounce you as a murderer. A deviant.”

“Do it, and the moment I am in prison the Ward will turn against you.”

“Because you are so special?” he sneered. “You are a fool. You think she loves you. All she wants is to get you between her legs. She will use you and cast you aside.”

His words were corrosive because they were exactly what I feared. I saw, from the acute gladness in Aden’s face, that he knew his words burned through me.

He pressed his advantage. “Can’t you see that I have only ever wanted what is best for you?” His voice dropped low. “You might think you love her, but that’s only because you don’t know what love is.”

I was afraid to think about whether I loved Sid. Aden was right about one thing: if I loved her, I would suffer for it.

I did what Sid always did. I dodged the real question by addressing the easiest part of what he had said. “Of course I know what love is.”

“Do you really? You love Raven.”

“What does she have to do with this?”

“You think she loves you.”

“She does.” I believed he was just trying to seek revenge, to stab me where it would hurt most, but my heart grew tight and shaky in my chest. “She says so all the time.”

“She says so. You are like a child, Nirrim. You can’t see the truth for what it is.”

“Yes, I can,” I said, though inside I retreated to the insecurity I had felt for so long, before I realized that the visions I had were true glimpses of the past. “I know what’s real and what’s not.”

“You are deluded. You have been so sweet, so biddable, so stupid.”

“Tell me what you mean.”

“You’ve been forging those passports for years.”

“So?”

“Nirrim, the little do-gooder, helping the less fortunate.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I suppose, if Raven weren’t milking her buyers for everything they’re worth.”

“Buyers?”

“You see,” he said, satisfied. “You have no idea whom to trust. You thought she was giving them away.”

“But,” I said, “she is.”

“She takes their life’s savings. She makes them give all they have for a means to escape.”

“But,” I stammered, “but that can’t be true. Look at how we live.”

“You think she’d share with you? Look at how she lives.”

“She lives simply. Her clothes. What she eats. She has a few little luxuries, it’s true, like a mirror, a gold necklace, but—”