In spite of the delicate cherubs painted on the ceiling and the apricot-velvet drapes that lined the barred window behind the throne, the throne room had always felt more like the inner workings of a factory. She could practically hear the engines of the palace whirring. Something stunk about this whole meeting. Not only was Jamie missing but so was Sir Olav, her father’s Partizan. Her family must be hiding something, had probably always been hiding something, and she wasn’t going to let their secrets hurt anyone else.

If it wasn’t for her promise to Lottie, she would have stormed in and demanded they all cut the lies immediately. But she wouldn’t. She owed her this much.

‘First we must remove Claude’s painting from the entry hall,’ announced the queen mother.

Willemena’s voice creaked like an old rocking chair, and Ellie had to bite her tongue not to scream. Instead she glanced over at Lottie. It still gave her pause to see Lottie’s hair so short after what Ingrid had done to her in the woods. Whenever she looked at the girl she adored, she was reminded of everything she’d caused by letting her get close. And here was her family, choosing, as usual, to try to cover it up with a pretty yellow dress and a diamond hair clip.

Don’t lose your temper, don’t lose your temper.

‘I can understand the desire to remove all traces of your son Claude from the palace, ma’am,’ Lottie began, her voice calmer and more patient than the royal family deserved. ‘And, while I think that is an excellent idea for your peace of mind, more urgently I believe we need to figure out Claude’s ultimate plan. We need a way to stop him and Leviathan. If you have any information, perhaps –’

‘Yes, yes, all traces of him,’ Willemena continued as if Lottie had never spoken, banging her wolf’s-head cane on the floor so hard it sent vibrations through the oak. ‘Whatever was left of him, take it away and have it burned.’

There was no need to look at Lottie this time. It was clear that Ellie’s grandmother was avoiding something. All the paranoia Ellie had been feeling sparked inside her again like a city coming to life after a blackout. Her family were lying. She didn’t know about what, or why, but she couldn’t let them get away with this.

‘With respect,’ Lottie said, ‘removing Claude is one step, but we must also look at –’

‘We must make sure there is not a speck of him in evidence by the time the decennial Golden Flower Festival comes round.’

What? Ellie could hardly hold herself together.