‘Stop it,’ Ellie barked, not wanting to hear a single word more. The sword went slack in her hand, her shoulders dropping. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’

‘So,’ Haru said, seeming satisfied, ‘will you keep your distance?’

Head still spinning, Ellie mulled over everything, from the moment she’d set foot in Rosewood, meeting Lottie, inflicting the Portman job upon her, Leviathan, Jamie, all their friends and what they’d been through. There was not a sliver of doubt left about what she needed to do; she just hoped she’d have time.

‘Yes,’ she said at last, the tattoo on her chest screaming like a fresh wound as she stared herself down in the black window behind Haru. ‘I think it’s time everyone kept their distance from the princess of Maradova.’

22

Looking at the pictures of William Tufty, Lottie could hardly make sense of it. His features were constantly morphing until she couldn’t find any trace of her own genetics in the image; instead, all she could see was Jamie’s mother.

Why is Jamie your Partizan?

It didn’t help that ever since she’d got the photograph she couldn’t get rid of Ingrid’s voice in her head, constantly whispering the same question.

Christmas holidays were only a week away, and out of the bay window in the Ivy common room Lottie saw students wrapped up in winter coats, giddy with the possibility of snow, while she stayed inside, preoccupied with Claude’s puzzles.

‘Lottie?’

‘Cla–’ Lottie nearly jumped out of her skin, imagining that Claude had called her name, but it was only Jamie, sitting opposite, patiently helping her find inspiration for her PoP piece. ‘Sorry – I was just thinking, maybe I should try a different book?’ she said quickly, hoping he hadn’t notice her slip.

Lottie’s fingers brushed Liliana’s diary within the pile of William Tufty’s books of poems and nursery rhymes, the feel of it sending her hand back like an electric shock.

‘You seem very distracted,’ Jamie said, his eyebrows furrowing in a familiar way. ‘You’re supposed to be submitting your Tufty tribute soon,’ he reminded her; the fact that she’d made virtually no progress lingered unspoken in the air.

‘Sorry, I know this won’t look good for the Wolfsons if I don’t get a move on and submit something impressive.’ She sighed, annoyed with herself. She couldn’t exactly tell Jamie that he and his mother were the very reason she was distracted.

‘That’s not what –’

‘Honestly …’ Lottie began, her eyes wandering to the window, where a flurry of browned leaves danced in a chaotic circle above them, casting strange shadows over the common room. ‘I’m worried about Ellie, among other things. The PoP feels like a pointless distraction.’

Jamie’s jaw twitched. Turning to her, his eyes narrowed and she forced herself to look down at her hands. ‘What’s wrong with Ellie?’