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Back Princess at Heart Save as PDF
Chapters (49)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. The Rosewood Chronicles
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. Part One
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. Part Two
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. Part Three
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. Author’s Note
  48. The Rosewood Houses
  49. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

‘Ellie, I’m just going to excuse myself for a second.’ Ellie’s hand curled round hers. ‘I promise I’ll be back soon.’ And she meant it. ‘And then I’ll tell you everything. I think …’ She paused, not sure how to phrase this in a way that wouldn’t put Ellie on high alert again. ‘I think I’ve found something that could help your family find Jamie,’ she said instead, knowing that they wanted to keep her out of it.

Ellie’s fingers tightened, the two of them melting like clay into one another where their skin met. ‘Don’t worry about it. We have to do what we have to do, right?’

There was still that something in the way Ellie held on to her, the way she stared at her.

‘Yes …’ Lottie trailed off, lost in the way Ellie’s eyes bored into her.

And, just like that, Ellie let go and a gap came between them like a rift in the earth as her Partizan disappeared into the crowd.

Deep in her own thoughts, Lottie failed to notice that Samuel didn’t follow her.

36

The library was almost empty now, with everyone off enjoying the PoP festivities. Only a few students lingered, giving Lottie free rein to untangle her thoughts in the sunlit space.

Her first stop was the history section. She flicked through what felt like hundreds of titles until she found what she was looking for. It was a recent title called Reign and Conquer: A Brief History of the World’s Most Impactful Shifts in Power. Her history professor was always singing the author’s praises.

Grabbing it, she marched over to a table by the closed library cafe and spread out her tiny collection of clues: the numbers, the book and Oscar’s diary, turning to the page about the banquet. Licking her lips, she read the start of the passage, drinking it all up.

There have been times in which being a Portman has allowed me insight into rather scandalous affairs. Last year, for example, I had to remain tight-lipped when an older countess from Genovia divulged during Alexis Wolfson’s commemorative banquet that she wondered if I would like to add myself to the list of Maravish royalty who have disgraced themselves on her behalf. I politely declined, but now remain forever curious about which members of this household she was speaking upon.

Despite the allure of the scandalous tale, this was not the information she was looking for. This entry had been dated 1860, meaning the year before had been 1859. Turning back to the numbers in her notebook, she scrutinized the four lines and with a great gasp realized her mistake.

2 2 1

0 0 9

1 0 9

9 9 9

It wasn’t four lines of numbers; it was three lines, written downwards from right to left. 1999, 2009, 2019. It had been right there the whole time, Arabic numerals written from right to left just as the rest of the diary had been.