"Read another book," Edward suggested, because this was already getting tiresome and it had only just started. He leaned back and crossed his arms, his mind darkly going to Oswald again. He wondered just how triumphant the man would feel right now. Smug and self-satisfied.

And alone and lonely. He supposed there was that. He smiled in a way that made his eyes look even sadder, not that he realised it. They had that in common. What Oswald had done to Isabella, it had cost them both the only times in their lives they had ever not felt alone.

"Jerome Valeska is the Cheshire cat, I assume? I missed him last time I was in." He wondered who the March Hare could be.