‘Yes, great idea, Ani,’ Lottie said, beaming, her eyes a little too intense. ‘I have so much I need to get off my chest.’

Both of them nodded, hoping Jamie wouldn’t clock anything suspicious. Ellie scrutinized them; it was no coincidence Lottie was trying to form a meeting with Anastacia and Saskia, the only other people who knew about Haru’s and Ellie’s real identities.

The other girls nodded, instantly understanding that Lottie had something to tell them. Ellie just hoped it wasn’t more terrible news.

It wasn’t until they’d gone that Lottie turned to Ellie, hands balled up at her sides, her face looking like her heart was about to shatter into a million pieces. ‘Why did you do that?’

Neither of them responded, but Ellie could feel in the way Jamie’s breathing turned deep with regret, shadows growing long over his face like he was hiding away, that they were both thinking the same thing. She was the first to say it aloud.

‘Just leave it, Lottie.’ She spoke calmly, as though this was the most important realization she’d ever had. ‘You need a break from all this as well.’

8

When Ingrid was a little girl growing up in Peć, before she’d signed up to be a Partizan, one of the nuns at the children’s home used to tell her: There is always someone worse off than yourself. At least you are not a monkey with an allergy to nuts. And despite how miserable the last month had been, despite her crumbling plans, she found herself remembering that phrase, and turned her attention to Julius.

It had been a long time since she’d thought of the children’s home at all. The ugly brown rug in the dining room, the one squeaky floorboard that would always tell on her when she tried to sneak to the kitchen at night, and the stench of boiled cabbage that clung to every room in the house. The other children had been happy there, but Ingrid was always being told that she was spoiled, naughty, which just made her go around with a furious pout, determined to make sure she got just as much, or more, than the other children. A man from the Partizan council had visited not three days after she’d turned twelve – and one week later she’d met Julius at the training camp. He was easy-going and generous in all the ways Ingrid was not. At first she’d thought him a fool, continually patient with her, even when she bit back, but he persisted, taking her under his wing, showing her the ropes, laughing her off whenever she snapped or hissed – and they were still a team today.

‘You’d think I was dying with how you hover around me,’ Julius groaned, his Southern twang making everything sound like a joke.

Ingrid scowled. ‘I just like your room.’

‘Liar.’