The shadowy figure of the goat-masked man morphed in Jamie’s mind, transforming into the painting of Claude from the palace hallway, inky-black hair and leering eyes the elegant and flamboyant green of a peacock feather. Those eyes haunted his dreams. He had to make sure they never turned themselves on Lottie.

‘Is that how they make you feel, Jamie-kun? That you owe them?’

Jamie scowled, snapping out of his thoughts with a jolt, his fingers uncurling as if Claude were escaping his clasp. He looked at Haru leaning casually against the wall and he remembered himself, turning hot at how rude he’d just been to a superior Partizan. He was at once distracted by his shoes, noticing that the laces had come undone on one foot.

Haru noticed too.

‘Maybe I am misunderstanding,’ Haru continued, kneeling down to tie them before Jamie could stop him. ‘But it seems to me that if you’re trying to stop the man who has caused you all this trouble and you haven’t made any progress so far, perhaps you are looking in the wrong places …’

Haru held his hand out for Jamie to help him up, regarding him with an inquisitive look in his eye.

Jamie paused before reaching out to take it, mulling over Haru’s words. They only reiterated a thought he’d already had: that he was missing something. That if he was going to keep Lottie and Ellie safe and figure out Claude’s plan, he had to prepare for the possibility he’d find out something unpleasant. The writing in his wardrobe appeared in his head, and the question Lottie had been so worried about swam into his mind.

Why is Jamie your Partizan?

Looking in the wrong places, he thought. Like the words were a mantra or an important clue.

‘To answer your other question,’ said Haru, ‘I wanted to be close to you.’

‘What?’

‘The reason I came to Rosewood.’ Haru’s fingers locked around Jamie’s, their palms pressed together, skin smooth and rough in all the right places. ‘I wanted to get closer to you.’

In all Jamie’s life he had never had anyone say anything so honest to him. He was shocked that someone would expose themselves so willingly. He became hyper aware of the touch of Haru’s fingers on his.

At Rosewood he’d learned how his appearance and attitude affected other students, who giggled and blushed when he walked past. It was only since being away that he’d admitted to himself that he might be capable of having these feelings for other people, for people like Lottie, but Partizans were not supposed to get distracted. Not in a million years would he have considered that Haru might be added to that list of distractions.

Jamie pulled away in one swift movement. ‘Haru, I’m not sure I –’