She couldn’t even look under the table because she knew if she did they might get suspicious. She’d hidden a message up her sleeve, so all she had to do was grab the pen and drop the paper at the same time.

If Samuel was looking at her face, he’d miss the small move. Something she’d picked up from watching Stephanie and the Artistocracy.

The note contained basic instructions.

Monday, 12:30, under Elwin.

Now she just needed to come up with a reasonable excuse that would give her twenty to thirty minutes alone, enough time to go over the numbers she’d found in Haru’s diary with Binah and tell her she still planned to find Jamie.

It was Sunday, the day before Lottie intended to meet Binah, when she truly saw what Ellie was doing with all her cheeriness.

Lottie was alone in their dorm after curfew, books open around her that she could barely focus on, when Ellie pushed the door open with her hip, appearing with armfuls of snacks and that same plastic smile.

‘Thought you might want some fuel.’ Again Ellie grinned at her, a shadow of the old cocky smile she used to give her, and it made Lottie uneasy.

She sat beside Lottie, opening up a packet of spicy crisps while she leaned over Lottie’s shoulder.

If anyone could see them, they’d think that they were simply two friends studying together. They’d never imagine the fight or the betrayal. So why was Ellie pretending?

‘How’s your PoP tribute coming along?’ Ellie asked, and the question threw her.

Lottie had forgotten, again.

‘I haven’t really been in the right frame of mind to be thinking about it to be honest.’ Lottie closed her book and allowed herself to dig into a jam tart, despite finding the situation extremely odd.

‘Remember when we first found Liliana’s study, on Halloween?’ A soft smile replaced the plastic one on Ellie’s face, a wistful yearning that finally felt real, and Lottie clung to it.

‘I was so afraid,’ Lottie admitted. ‘I couldn’t believe something like that was real, but I think I was more afraid of finding part of myself.’

Ellie leaned back against the bedside table, the tips of her toes touching Lottie’s thigh, the contact making Lottie hyper aware of how little they’d touched each other recently. ‘It’s like you were always destined to find it,’ she said. ‘It’s in your blood.’ Tilting her head to the side inquisitively, Ellie fiddled with the hem of Lottie’s skirt, not making eye contact. ‘I hope you’ll realize that when you start your tribute. I know it’ll be amazing.’

Things Lottie didn’t want to think about began surfacing, which was especially dangerous when she was feeling such a fraying connection to her Portman role and Ellie’s family.