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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 lay her chin on Lottie’s head, wrapping her arms round her neck until they were slotted together. Lottie could feel the flicker of Ellie’s pulse where her cheek rested against her neck. She was so warm; it made her want to melt into her, visions of their kiss from so long ago fluttering through her mind as soft as butterfly wings, but then Ellie pulled away.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, and Lottie couldn’t tell what Ellie was apologizing for. ‘Let’s head upstairs.’

Silently they made their way back to their quarters. They said goodnight at Lottie’s door, hands drifting apart. And, as Lottie climbed into bed, her head filled with images of Alexis and Claude, Haru and Jamie, and Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

But when she thought of Ellie’s tired eyes, the way she’d crumbled when they’d discovered that Leviathan’s tricks all led back to her family, and the secrets and lies … she wondered was any of this really what was best for Ellie?

Was Lottie helping anyone at all?

2

A fire had been lit in the great hall. Amber flames flickered in the depths of the black-stone hearth, trying and failing to warm the cold, echoing room. Above, out of reach of the flames, was a family portrait of King Alexander Wolfson, his wife, Matilde Wolfson, the queen mother, Willemena Wolfson – all stony-faced and unsmiling – and at the centre, still just a young girl, Princess Eleanor Prudence Wolfson, next in line for the throne of Maradova.

Ellie remembered the day they’d posed for the painting. She’d sneaked outside to play with Jamie and tripped in the mud, dirt clumping in her hair and on her face and hands. Her grandmother had been furious with her and Jamie. As punishment, the old woman had forced Jamie to sit quietly and watch the whole time, and told Ellie that the longer she fussed, the longer Jamie would have to sit still. Ellie wished the fire would burn the whole canvas to ash.

It had been six days. Six measly days since Lottie had uncovered who the Master of Leviathan was, the person who’d been hounding them and their friends, searching for cracks and weaknesses to exploit. Part of Ellie had always known that everything was her fault. She tore her gaze away from the painting to stare at her real stony-faced family, all lined up and looking small in the grand surroundings.