The girl on the other end of the phone pondered, a melodic hum that sounded out over the noise of engines revving.
“We’re still trying to decipher the puzzle.” Her tone was thoughtful, distracted, and Emelia could imagine the exact expressions on her face. “How are you holding up?”
“Pretty good.” Emelia sat down on the bed, absentmindedly reaching to curl a lock of hair around her finger. It was no longer there. She turned to stare at her new image again, her head feeling lighter, her body free. She smiled again. “You’re not going to believe what I’ve just done.”
1
ALL SHE HAD TO DO was get through the gate.
“There she is!” a lone voice cried out from the crowd of people closing in around the car.
The school rose up behind the gilded gates of Rosewood Hall, its windows winking in the sunlight, the stone pillars carved with roses. Their safe haven. Yet here, outside it, this sea of strangers spread like an awful stain.
Journalists.
The gates usually did a good job of keeping them at bay, but the sidewalk outside the school walls was a no-man’s-land in this fight for privacy. Anything went—and Lottie was the best story these journalists could get. Until she passed through those gates it was open season.
But first she had to get Ellie away from these sharks.
“Nikolay,” she whispered, “please sneak Ellie into the school. I’ll distract them.”
“But Lottie—” Her princess tried to protest, sniffing loudly.
“It’s fine, Ellie. Don’t worry.” She threw her a reassuring glance. “This is what I’ve been trained for, remember?”
They’d dealt with the press after the incident at the Tompkins Manor, and Lottie had answered their questions well, but then she’d had the king’s advisor, Simien Smirnov, to coach her. He’d warned that the dam would eventually break, that they’d get hungry for more. And from the looks on these journalists’ faces, that moment had come.
“I’ll see you inside,” Lottie assured her princess, putting on her best smile as she watched Ellie disappear, rubbing her nose.
In the two years Lottie had known her, not once had Ellie ever had a cold. It was strange to see the red of fever on her pale olive skin, the deep shadows beneath her eyes, and the dry, chapped lips, all weighing heavy on a body usually so full of life.
Seeing Ellie ill filled Lottie with a furious determination. She was her Portman, meant to take on the burdens of being a princess so Ellie could play the part of a normal girl. Getting sick was what happened to stressed and worried people. Not a princess.
Lottie was meant to do the worrying.
When Lottie stepped out of the car it was cloudy but warm, the staple of a British summer. The air crackled with the threat of a storm.
Well, come on then. Let it break.
Lottie walked confidently into the fray.
“Has there been any more information on the mysterious Leviathan?”
“Why haven’t you been out in public since the incident? Are you afraid?”
“Can we see a smile?”
Kind, brave, unstoppable! Kind, brave, unstoppable! Lottie repeated the words over and over in her head, tapping the wolf pendant at her chest, then moving her hand up to adjust the tiara nestled in her hair.
The crescent-moon opal at the top of the tiara rose to greet the sun when she lifted her chin boldly, the strength of the intricate silver headpiece coursing through her, reminding her that she was never alone, that she always had a piece of her family with her.
In a great display of poise, she walked calmly down the line of reporters. At her side, where the princess’s Partizan should have been, was a hired bodyguard. Samuel was a nice enough man, and Lottie had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t his fault Jamie wasn’t with them. Because Jamie had been very clear that he didn’t want to come with them to collect their exam results.
Instinctively Lottie clasped the wolf at her heart. It was a pendant she shared with her princess, a gift that had welcomed her into the royal family, the weight of it a reminder that they were all connected. Only now Jamie had broken their link, and she felt it like a wound in her chest.
A microphone was suddenly shoved into her face, grasped by a hand that stank of cigarettes.
She stared at the reporter holding it as he aggressively repeated his question.
“Has any more progress been made on finding out why Leviathan are after you, Princess?”
Lottie took a deep breath to steady her voice. “It’s still the same information. As far as we’re aware, Leviathan . . .” Her throat went dry at the name, memories of Ingrid and Julius swarming around her. They were the deadly duo who had nearly kidnapped her. “As far as we’re aware, they’re targeting the children of important and influential families, but their objective is still unknown.”
Samuel put an arm around her and smoothly guided her away from the reporters. Lottie couldn’t help cringing at her answer.
Her words had been true. Almost.
But the whole truth was much less easy to digest—because the truth was they had no idea what Leviathan were really planning. All they had was a terrible theory, that they might want to control those influential children, and that Lottie and her friends may very well have given them the tools to do so when they found the Hamelin Formula, a dangerous mix of chemicals that could be used to brainwash people.
“This must have all been awfully difficult for you!” a man’s voice called after her, rich with fake sympathy. The temptation to roll her eyes was almost unbearable. “How have you coped with adjusting back to normality?”
Barely.
Lottie had to shush the voice in her head, turning to smile pleasantly at the crowd.
These were the questions they asked the most. Personal questions. A chance for them to get to know this mysterious Maravish princess who’d somehow landed herself in the
