‘Now, Lottie,’ Ms Kuma began, standing up and straightening her bright fuchsia trouser suit that made her look a bit like a maraschino cherry, with a sugary sweet perfume to match. ‘Every year that we do the PoP we pick one student who will perform a tribute to William Tufty.’

Lottie squeezed her lips together to stop a stunned laugh escaping, wondering what Ms Kuma would think if she knew Lottie had William Tufty’s heirloom in her bag right now, or that she’d found his secret study in a Stratus basement.

‘The other house mothers and I have been discussing it, and we would be delighted if you would do the honour this year. The headmaster informs us you’ve expressed an interest in our founder before and you clearly have the same passion for folklore and fairy tales.’ Ms Kuma stopped short, looking Lottie up and down, cleaning her glasses as if that might somehow change what she was looking at. ‘And I must say –’ she blinked a few more times – ‘since you’ve cut your hair short, the resemblance is rather uncanny. If I didn’t know you were next in line for the throne of Maradova, I’d almost think you two were related.’

Lottie put on a show of touching her hand to her chest in humble surprise, fingers meeting her wolf pendant. ‘Wouldn’t that be funny?’ she jested. ‘I’d be delighted to pay tribute to our founder, despite not being related to –’ Her throat closed up. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’d be happy to.’ This new task weighed down, heavy and uncomfortable, upon Lottie; it was an unwanted distraction.

‘Excellent, thank you.’ Ms Kuma extended her hand for Lottie to shake. ‘We look forward to seeing what you prepare.’

The walk towards the old Conch pool was painful. Lottie felt like the Little Mermaid after she’d traded away her tail, each step one hundred stabs into the soles of her feet. She was counting herself lucky for not having bumped into Ellie or Jamie, but she was also ignoring how creepily empty this area of the school was. Bramble bushes arched over the mud path, with stinging nettles jutting out around the mulberry trees. This was the only area of the school that felt truly wild, like the Rose Wood had reached in and reclaimed the space.

Approaching the cast-iron gate, she wondered how she’d get in, and if Haru really expected her to climb over.

This is a terrible idea and you are a fool and anything bad that happens to you from here on out is your own fault.