2

“WE SHOULDN’T BE HERE—AH . . . AH . . . ah!”

“Here!” Lottie held out a tissue for Ellie just as she let out a huge sneeze.

“Atchoo!” Ellie hid her face in the tissue and noisily blew her nose, before lifting her head, eyes streaming as they took in Rosewood.

At the end of the rose-lined path stood the home to the righteous, resolute, and resourceful. It towered over them, sunlight glowing around its edges like rays from the face of an ancient god and demanding just as much respect. Every step up the path felt like a step closer to safety.

Only, something was off. It wasn’t just her fall and the ravenous glances that followed her, but for a second the scents that usually felt like home had turned sour. She was glad Ellie couldn’t smell it.

Handing her another tissue, Lottie noticed her friend’s eyes. Darker, deeper, a midnight ocean that might pull her down. The two of them were almost the same height now, the distance closing in as Lottie grew taller. She could look straight into her eyes now, falling fast into those dark pools whenever their gazes met.

“Thanks,” Ellie grumbled, blowing her nose again, the moment swiftly over. “We should have gotten our results sent to us at the palace. Then we’d be safe.” Hesitating, just long enough for Lottie to notice, her princess added, “Safe from those reporters. Look what they did to you.” Her face darkened. “I should teach them a lesson.”

Dressed in an oversize black sweatshirt and ripped fishnets, Ellie was neither dressed for the warm British summer nor for a common cold. Lottie had to assume she was delirious if she thought she’d be able to take on anyone in her current state.

She was right about one thing, though. Coming back to Rosewood was starting to feel like a bad idea.

Rosewood Hall was Lottie’s home in more ways than one, or so she’d recently found out. She’d uncovered a secret to rival even her highly confidential Portman agreement. In an entirely unlikely turn of events, it had become apparent that the founder of the school was the runaway princess Liliana Mayfutt, and that same princess just happened to be Lottie’s ancestor. She had passed down her tiara like a shining puzzle waiting to be solved by none other than Lottie.

All her life Lottie had dreamed of being a princess. She’d thought they were the childish fantasies of an ordinary girl obsessed with fairy tales. When the opportunity had arisen to play the part of a princess on a professional level, in order to protect Ellie’s identity and give her the freedom denied to most of royal blood, none of them had imagined Lottie might actually have a real royal connection. This school was in her blood.

So why had she floundered just now, as she’d stepped through the gates? This was meant to be her safe harbor, not the scene of her humiliation.

“I’m completely fine, and I doubt anyone noticed,” Lottie lied. “Besides, it’s good to get out and about, and it’ll be nice to stay at Binah’s for a few days.”

In reality, there was more to this trip than collecting their exam results. If it had been up to Lottie, they would have stayed at Rosewood after their last exams like most of the other students. Ellie needed to get out of the palace. It was making her ill, literally.

As if on cue, Ellie broke out in a new fit of coughing before she recovered and smiled weakly.

“Let’s go and find the others. Get as far away as possible from those reporters,” Lottie suggested.

“Atchoo!”

“Bless you, Ellie. Hello, Lottie.”

Both girls looked toward the giant stone arch of the reception doorway. Beneath it stood a girl with dark curly hair and a yellow cloak, the rosy tint of a holiday illuminating her radiant brown skin.

“You have a cold, Ellie!” Binah’s glasses glinted in the sunlight. “I’ll have to make you my honey-and-ginger tonic when we get back to my place. It can cure anything.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’m fine, just . . .” Ellie caught the look in Lottie’s eye and immediately looked away. “I’m fine. Let’s just get our results.”

Indicating for Nikolay Olav and Samuel to wait for them outside, Ellie stepped into the reception hall, trying to be inconspicuous, which was not easy when she was dressed like an eighties punk rock star and Lottie like a princess on display.

The hall greeted them with a creak of floorboards, sapphire beams pouring through the stained-glass window, sending a crisscross of light over Ellie.

It was hot inside, and the air was thick with the scent of deodorant and perfume. As the three friends made their way to the front desk, Lottie could feel the other students’ gazes following them. Was there anywhere they could go without being stared at?

A redheaded prefect from Conch House stepped out in front of them, a badge on her chest reading “Jess Parker-Scott.” She flashed a smile at them, nearly blinding Lottie with her perfectly bleached teeth. Oh no. Not more questions.

But this wasn’t the type of question she’d been expecting. “Excuse me, have you girls considered applying to Rosewood’s international partner to partake in one of our award-winning summer schools?” Her eyelashes fluttered. “You can learn valuable skills and even earn extra marks toward your exam results, all in the peaceful setting of Japan.”

The girl shoved a glossy pamphlet into each of their hands, her perfect crimson manicure glinting like talons. “They’re still accepting late entries for Rosewood students, but you only have three days left to apply.” Her smile widened, her teeth radiating an inhuman glow.

“Thank you.” Lottie tried not to cringe away from her dazzling smile. Over the girl’s shoulder she spotted a teacher handing out envelopes. Exam result time. The whole reason they were here. “If you’ll excuse us . . .”

The three girls slipped by as the prefect turned to another group of students. Lottie, Ellie, and Binah approached the desk. This was the moment they’d been waiting for. When they found out if all their hard work had been worth it.

“No pressure, then,” Lottie mumbled. “Good luck, everyone.”

Liliana’s secret study was cold in comparison to the warm sunshine outside. Instead of blossoming flowers, there were fleece blankets and dusty furniture, a topaz glow from the torches and fairy lights illuminating their hideout in the bowels of the school, where they’d come to open their results.

Binah immediately began setting out the beanbags and cushions in a circle, while Ellie fumbled in her bag.

To the left of the study an ancient relic stood out among their decorations. Liliana’s desk. Inside one of its drawers hid a centuries-old diary. Lili’s diary.

With their exams finished, Lottie intended to take the diary home and learn everything she could about her mysterious ancestor.

“Oh, Lottie,” Ellie wheezed between sneezes. “My parents asked me to give you this.” Ellie handed her an envelope, which was wax sealed with the wolf crest of the Maravish royal family.

Lottie eased it open to find a letter inside. It was only a few lines long, yet the words made her inexplicably nervous.

Congratulations on another successful year of playing the princess.

The Maravish royal family thanks you for your continued and indefinite service.

The letter was signed by King Alexander himself and embellished with his personal stamp, a crimson triangle with three surrounding circles, a symbol Lottie had only seen once before. It was a sign that he’d written this letter personally.

“What does it say?” Ellie asked, leaning over to see.

“It’s just a thank-you. Nothing to worry about.” Her fingers tightened around the parchment, crumpling it into a ball.

Loud footsteps echoed down the stairwell, and Lottie quickly shoved the letter inside one of the antique drawers in the desk.

“This is stupid. C’est ridicule.” Anastacia’s distinctive French accent carried into the room ahead of her, Micky and Lola Tompkins and Raphael following nervously behind while Percy casually brought up the rear. The five of them wandered into the study.

“How dare they?” Anastacia’s voice was low, and Lottie noted she was wearing her sunglasses again, chestnut hair tied up in a messy bun, a particularly bad sign for the girl who treated her hair like a rare vintage car.

“What’s going on?” Ellie asked, but they all ignored her.

“Anastacia, it’s going to be okay,” Lola chirped, recoiling immediately when Anastacia furiously turned on her.

“It’s not going to be okay, Lola. This is the worst news I could ever have received.”

Wordlessly Percy placed a comforting hand on Anastacia’s shoulder. For anyone to shout at Lola like that . . . well, whatever news Anastacia had just received, it must have been terrible.

Lottie watched from across the room. She felt the emotional scars from the Tompkins Manor tear open like a fresh wound. It was no surprise they were arguing; there was so much they hadn’t processed yet.

“Ani,” Binah began, taking a cautious step toward her. “Just take a deep breath and tell us what’s going on.”

Panting like a trapped animal, Anastacia slowly began to relax, holding Binah’s gaze to anchor herself, each heavy breath slowly becoming steady.

“It’s Saskia.” Still angry, Anastacia shuddered. “The Partizan council agrees that Saskia was brainwashed by Leviathan, but Rosewood’s bursars are saying she won’t be allowed back having missed a year. Something about their strict policy on failing grades.”

Lottie felt Anastacia’s gaze on her through the sunglasses, as though Saskia being locked up in the Maravish dungeon after being persuaded to kidnap the princess was somehow Lottie’s fault.

“Can’t she retake her classes?” Ellie offered with more concern than Lottie was expecting.

“It’s not just that.” Anastacia planted herself on the love seat in the middle of the room, a crown of gold LEDs floating above her like stars. “The council said they could pull some strings if she’d give them information about Leviathan, but . . .”

The atmosphere in the room froze over. They could all guess where this was going. Getting Saskia to talk about the mysterious Master of Leviathan was like trying to force-feed a lion, and just as messy. A spell had been cast on the Partizan. At the mention of the name, her gaze would turn distant. It was a vacant look—scared. Nikolay had told them what she’d said when they’d first interviewed her:

“I don’t want him to be disappointed in me.”

Their countless interviews with Saskia had given them only one solid fact: that whoever the Master of Leviathan was, he had a stronger hold on his minions than they could ever have imagined.

“It’s okay, Anastacia,” Lottie said. “We’ll figure something out. If it’s still causing Saskia stress, she doesn’t need to push herself.”

A wave of relief washed over Anastacia, her shoulders relaxing.

“I hate to change the subject,” Raphael chimed in. Out of all of them he looked the least stressed, his skin fresh and dewy, no sign of a restless night anywhere on his face. “But is Jamie coming?”

Poor Raphael! He tried so hard to be a good friend to Jamie, and Lottie knew better than anyone how difficult that could be in the face of Jamie’s stubbornness. Lottie had decided it was best to leave Jamie to figure things out on his own, but recently she’d started to wonder if that was such a good idea.

“He’s not,” Ellie said bluntly, the edge in her voice making it clear she didn’t want to continue the discussion.

Ellie and Jamie had hardly spoken, the two of them drifting apart. It felt like an impossible task to bring Jamie back into the fold, waiting for him to find his own way. And the longer it went on, the colder the space between them became.

“That’s a shame,” Raphael replied at last, the disappointment on his face matching the gloom that hung over the rest of them.

Lottie fingered the envelope containing her results, wanting to get back to something normal, something solid and productive.

Micky signed in the corner of the room for Percy, and they all exchanged a knowing look.

“Is it just me?” Lola began, her voice tiny in the large, echoing room. “Or does everything feel a bit, well, bad?”

The rest of them nodded in mute agreement. Yes, they were back at their beloved Rosewood, but it didn’t feel the same. It hadn’t felt the same since the incident at the Tompkins Manor.

Enough! Lottie slipped a fingernail beneath the envelope flap and pried it open, pulling out the yellow card.

“It’s like something’s missing,” Micky said, picking up Lola’s solemn tone. “It’s as though we’re not ready to be back yet.”

Lottie stared down at the numbers in her palm, the hazy glow of the fairy lights blurring her vision.

Congratulations on another successful year . . .

The king’s note taunted her while she stood completely still, unable to tear her gaze away from the dreadful reality staring back at her.

It was not possible. She’d worked too hard. She was a good student; they all knew that.

“Guys . . .” She spoke with unexpected calm, still not believing it, as though detached from it all, floating above her own head. Finally she looked up at her friends, holding out the card. “I’ve failed the year.”