3

THE ONE THING LOTTIE HAD been sure of was her grades. In all her worst nightmares—that Leviathan might hurt Ellie, that Jamie would be lost forever—never had it occurred to her that something so simple would be her downfall. That she would fail the year.

It was only by a few points, but those tiny errors would be enough to have her let go from Rosewood. If that happened, her job as Portman would be in serious danger.

“It has to be fake.” Ellie snatched the card from Lottie and stared at her results. “This doesn’t make any sense; that English grade alone is far too low. What if Leviathan—”

“But why would they do that?” Lottie tried to rationalize it. “And even if they did tamper with the results system, what could we possibly do about it?”

“Ellie’s right,” Anastacia stated, plucking the card from Ellie with just as much conviction. “You worked too hard; these grades can’t be right.”

Part of Lottie wanted to believe that someone had messed with the grade, because she would never have allowed this to happen. Too much was at stake.

Or would she?

Before her mind had time to dwell on the doubts, she looked up to see Percy and Binah signing intently, and from her little knowledge of sign language it looked like they also believed something fishy was going on.

It was the strangest feeling to look around the half-lit study and see nothing but unwavering faith on her friends’ faces. Not one of them showed an inch of doubt that she would pass the year, turning instantly to other possibilities.

“There was a break-in,” Binah announced, turning back to everyone, some sort of conclusion having been reached between her and Percy, who nodded solemnly for her to continue, “at the exam board headquarters—no witnesses and no suspects. It was only petty theft, money stolen from people’s bags, but all the CCTV footage was tampered with. Percy believes, from his experience, that Leviathan easily have the tools to achieve such a thing as grade tampering, and without being caught, either by hacking or by brainwashing a member of the exam board.”

“Well, that’s it, then,” Raphael declared. “Leviathan tampered with your grade. You can contest it with the exam board and this will all be fixed.”

Somehow this didn’t make Lottie feel any better, because there was a much more important question than how they’d done it.

Why would they tamper with the grade? What did they want?

“Don’t you see? They probably want me to contest the grade.” Shaking her head, Lottie turned to Ellie, who was grinding her teeth. “It doesn’t matter if Leviathan did it; we can’t prove anything, and if we bring attention to it, people might think I really did fail the year and I’m looking for an excuse.”

Silence, brooding and somber, spread through the room, each of them dwelling on the harsh truth. And at the center of them all was Ellie, a look on her face like she’d been poisoned, which had nothing to do with her cold.

In the quiet, a little voice in Lottie’s head wished she could get away, to take Ellie, the twins, and Anastacia, all of whom had been through so much over the past year, far away from their troubles.

The thought settled in her mind, a nonsense fantasy slowly forming into an idea. All the events of the day were bringing her right up to this moment.

“So what do we do?” Lola and Micky asked.

“If we’re going to fix this,” Lottie declared, “we’re going to have to think outside the box. In fact,” she added, heart thudding, “we’re going to have to fly as far away from the box as possible.”

Lottie and Ellie flew back to the palace immediately, seven hours of silence like death following them across the world. At the end of their journey waited Ellie’s parents, the king and queen of Maradova, who held the power to rip Ellie and Lottie apart at the snap of their fingers.

All thoughts of the journalists, her fall at the gate, and Aimee Wu had vanished.

“Okay,” she told her princess, staring down the snarling wolf on the great doors of the palace. “This will be fine. I’ll sort this, and then we’ll talk to your parents.”

The door creaked open to reveal an endless vista of history, stretching along the corridor ahead. Previous rulers of the kingdom glared at the girls, following them with every echoing step on the marble floor.

Ellie shuddered when they passed the black-framed painting with green irises that dripped judgment like poison. Claude, the lone wolf of the Wolfsons, smirked down at them, a shadow in the hallway that acted as a bitter reminder of what became of those who couldn’t handle the expectations of the Maravish throne. Exile, complete and final.

Lottie would not let them fall to the same fate.

“Edwina”—Lottie nodded to the head of the house staff, who was holding a shimmering silver tea tray—“please make sure Ellie gets a hot drink and heads to bed; she’s very ill.”

She gave one final glance back at her princess. Her lips were purple like a bruise, and Lottie felt the weight of her trust pulling at her along with the wolf on the chain around her neck.

Jet-lagged and uncertain, Lottie had decided to do the one thing she dreaded more than anything else. She was going to talk to Jamie.

You can do this, she told herself. You can speak to him.

Making her way through the palace, every gold-framed painting, every chandelier and rare antique seemed to judge her for the terrible mistake she’d made.

“It wasn’t me,” she wanted to tell them. “Someone tampered with the grade. I’m going to fix this.”

But first she needed to get Jamie on her side.

She caught her reflection in a gilded mirror at the end of the narrow corridor by Jamie’s rooms. Tired. She looked tired, but she felt strong in the sportswear she’d worn on the plane journey, as strong as she could in this situation, and she allowed that sliver of hope to fill her with determination. Everyone had found a way to occupy themselves after Leviathan tricked them. For Lottie that had been through training—and she was now fitter than she’d ever been. Even if Jamie refused to train with her, she wasn’t going to let anything stop her.

I will be kind. I will be brave. I will be unstoppable.

If her ancestor Liliana Mayfutt could successfully run away from home, take on the identity of a man so people would take her seriously, and set up Rosewood Hall, one of the most prestigious schools in the world, then Lottie could grow strong on her own, and she wouldn’t let this little blip get in her way.

Pulling her hair up tight into a ponytail, she wondered if perhaps Simien had been right, that her hair was too long. It had sneaked up on her; just as the height difference between her and Ellie was slowly closing, her hair had grown unexpectedly. Mounds of memories and experiences were tangled up in the straw-colored curls.

Her fist hesitated in front of Jamie’s door, then she rapped her knuckles against it, hard, in the same way she’d seen Nikolay do a few times, hoping to trick Jamie into thinking it wasn’t her.

After only a few seconds, he opened the door, his gaze falling much higher than Lottie’s eyes, clearly expecting Nikolay, and as he took in his visitor he made no attempt to hide his irritation at being tricked.

He was shirtless, and still not wearing his wolf pendant. She blinked rapidly, tearing her eyes away before she could fully take him in, her cheeks going red with the sudden thought that this was a very stupid idea.

Whatever had remained of the regular boy in Jamie was officially gone. In its place stood a dark, brooding tower of firm muscles and eyes sparking with anger. Somehow he was taller, his dark hair longer but tied back. He truly looked like the deadly assassin he was trained to be, and it hadn’t crept up on them like Lottie’s hair or height—this had happened within weeks of the attempted kidnapping at the Tompkins Manor. It was as if the event had triggered something inside him, something he might never be able to undo.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, leaning an arm on the doorframe. “Why aren’t you at Binah’s?”

Beyond his shoulder, she glimpsed a corner of his room—immaculate. Cinnamon and spice swirled through the air, mixing with the scent of roses that lingered from Lottie’s deodorant.

It smelled weird.

Everything in the room was crimson. The bedding, carpets, and lighting, all an ominous red. And glinting like a precious jewel on his bedside table in a box was the wolf pendant, its gemstone glaring at her like an eye, a creature Jamie had sworn not to wear again until he felt worthy.

Lottie had tried to persuade him that what had happened at the Tompkins Manor was not his fault, that none of them could have known it was a trick, but no matter what she said he had been determined to punish himself. As a Partizan, her constant protector, he felt he should have shielded her from danger, refusing to believe that there was nothing that could have been done to change things.

Noticing her line of sight, Jamie leaned in farther, blocking her view until there was nowhere else to look except at him.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated.

“Ellie’s not well. I . . . we . . . need your help. It’s—”

“Unless this is a life-or-death situation, I don’t want to know. I have work to do, and I won’t get distracted by another one of your and Ellie’s silly little adventures.”

Lottie stayed firm.

Jamie always did whatever he could to keep everyone at a distance. A comment like that would have upset her a year ago, but now she knew her “silly adventures” had led to her finding her place in the world, and that was more than Jamie could say for himself.

With Jamie preparing to close the door, Lottie shoved her foot into the doorway, holding her ground, not even wavering when he looked down at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I want you to race me,” she told him.

The look of shock on Jamie’s face would have been hilarious if this weren’t so important.

“Why would I ever do something so ridiculous?” He crossed his arms, biceps bulging, as if to remind her how much stronger and faster he was than most people.

“Because,” Lottie replied, “if you win, I promise I will never ask you for a single favor again. You can just focus on your Partizan duties, and”—her next words caused her physical pain, knowing that none of this was her fault—“I won’t distract you.”

His face was impenetrable, making it impossible to tell if he liked the idea or if he was reeling from shock.

“But,” Lottie warned, “if I win, you have to hear me out.” On second thought, she quickly added, “And you can’t get mad.”

“This is a big waste of time,” he said eventually. Lottie’s heart sank, until he continued, “But if this is what it takes to persuade you to stop kidding around, then so be it.”

He turned back into the room to get his things, leaving Lottie to catch her breath. She could hardly believe he’d really agreed.

“I’ll meet you by the gate of the West Garden in fifteen minutes,” Lottie called after him, her fingers curling into fists.

And I’m definitely going to win, she added in her head. Because if she didn’t get Jamie on their side before they spoke to the king and queen, then they might as well give up now.

The sky was unusually clear above the Maravish palace. Even though it was freezing outside, streaks of sunlight through the evergreen trees filled the air with glitter. Lottie batted it away, remembering the story of the Snow Queen, and not wanting her heart to turn to ice.

“First one to lap the pond and make it back across this”—Lottie unfurled a red ribbon over the gravel path—“is the winner.”

“Pond” was a particularly unceremonious word for the great body of water in the west side of the palace gardens. With the top frozen over, and the sheer size of it, the “pond” was big enough to be an ice rink. Ellie had promised Lottie that she’d teach her to skate on it one day, but Lottie had always chickened out. It looked too deep, too cold, too deathly.

In the center stood a mossy statue of the goddess Artemis, a bow and arrow poised and ready, pointed directly at them.

“We start when this goes off.” Lottie placed her phone on the stone steps opposite the pond and set the timer for one minute. “Are you ready?”

Jamie shrugged, indifferent in his black tank and matching hoodie, a stark contrast to Lottie’s peach sportswear. He was taller and stronger than her; it seemed obvious that he would win.

“Let’s just get this over with.” He took position next to Lottie, legs braced.

Breath like smoke mingled in the air.

I’m going to win this. Lottie willed the thought to life. I’ll show you what I’m capable of.

The timer beeped, and they were off! They tore across the frozen grass, and Lottie blanked her mind. She didn’t think about the race, she didn’t think about the journalists, the failing grade, or why Leviathan had caused it. Nothing could catch up with her if she ran fast enough. This is what she’d learned after the attack at the Tompkins Manor, that there was power in getting strong on your own. Not once would she have dreamed that young Lottie, puffing, aching, and humiliated from a single training session, would grow to love the freedom of running. She hadn’t needed Jamie to teach her. She’d only needed to be unstoppable. Her time with Ellie had taught her that.

The frozen grass crunched beneath their feet, where they left ghostly footprints with every furious step. A taste like metal flooded her mouth, her chest aching from the cold, taking in great gasps of air to propel herself forward. It wasn’t until she was halfway around the pond that she realized she was falling behind Jamie, only a little, but that gap slowly spread wider, like stretching an elastic band. The pressure built up, her legs screaming every time her foot pounded the earth, and still the gap grew. They were so close to the finish line now; he was going to win! If she didn’t snap back, he was going to win.

Lottie let out a screech, feeling the elastic band pop, springing forward as they approached the ribbon.

But it was too much for her. Her knees, still sore from her fall at the gates, gave way and the world tumbled around her, the cold hard ground slamming into her body, just as Jamie’s feet came down purposefully over the ribbon.

She lay sprawled on the ground, panting. Humiliated again. Jamie reached out to help her up, but she shoved him away, clambering stiffly to her feet without his assistance. She trembled as she rested her hands on her thighs, bending over to draw in ragged lungfuls of cold air. She watched a single bead of sweat drop to the ground and spread, melting the ice.

Her plan had failed, and it wasn’t until she looked up again that she realized she hadn’t even made it over the finish line.