She turned round, grinning at her princess. It was so easy the two of them falling back into their comfortable teasing, laughing at each other as if nothing had happened at all. But, even though Lottie wanted to let herself go, there was still something that Ellie was holding back.

Whatever it was, Lottie was sure they’d recover from it. As long as they were together.

35

When they awoke on the morning of the Presentation of the Pillars, the Ivy common room had been transformed. Poems written in curly script hung on string and nestled in the petals of pretend flowers, quotes from diverse feminist literature were chalked on to the walls, and statues of deer made from words frolicked in the courtyard.

And that was only the beginning. The whole of Rosewood lay covered in bright streamers and bunting, fragrant petals and scented candles, all purple, yellow and red to represent the three houses. The school and grounds displayed whimsical and painstaking tributes to the namesakes of Rosewood’s houses and each piece had the name of the student who’d created it proudly at its side.

Lottie didn’t have much time to explore the other works with Samuel accompanying her. She popped in briefly to Stratus Side and Conch House to see everyone’s tributes. Someone had organized flowers that hung on trellises on either side of the Stratus tower, each symbolic of Shray and Sana’s work. Less tastefully a student at Conch House had fashioned a decapitated wolf’s head and placed it on a spike by the bronze statue of Saxon the bear, an ode to Balthazar who’d supposedly taken on a wolf in the woods to save a fellow student. Despite knowing that the wolf was the villain in the tale, she felt a little sorry for it.

Its snarling face reminded Lottie of the knocker on the doors of the palace and it made her think of Jamie and Ellie. They didn’t growl because they were angry or mean; they did it because they were scared. Lottie reached up to the growling head and stroked its nose.

‘It’s going to be OK,’ she promised. Satisfied, Lottie headed off, ready to present her piece.

At eleven in the morning, students from Lottie’s year made their way into Rosewood’s main hall, the whole room smelling of pastries and candied fruits from an array of edible tributes, including an uncanny recreation of Elwin, Ryley and Saxon in miniature. Lottie was not surprised to find Lola’s and Micky’s names next to them.

Her own tribute was up on the platform, hidden under a cover, with each house mother standing like a guard round it. Even Professor Croak had made an appearance, sniffing curiously round the confectionary table, spindly fingers fidgeting with the effort of not reaching out to pinch a piece.