Princess at Heart (The Rosewood Chronicles)

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.

In spite of the delicate cherubs painted on the ceiling and the apricot-velvet drapes that lined the barred window behind the throne, the throne room had always felt more like the inner workings of a factory. She could practically hear the engines of the palace whirring. Something stunk about this whole meeting. Not only was Jamie missing but so was Sir Olav, her father’s Partizan. Her family must be hiding something, had probably always been hiding something, and she wasn’t going to let their secrets hurt anyone else.

If it wasn’t for her promise to Lottie, she would have stormed in and demanded they all cut the lies immediately. But she wouldn’t. She owed her this much.

‘First we must remove Claude’s painting from the entry hall,’ announced the queen mother.

Willemena’s voice creaked like an old rocking chair, and Ellie had to bite her tongue not to scream. Instead she glanced over at Lottie. It still gave her pause to see Lottie’s hair so short after what Ingrid had done to her in the woods. Whenever she looked at the girl she adored, she was reminded of everything she’d caused by letting her get close. And here was her family, choosing, as usual, to try to cover it up with a pretty yellow dress and a diamond hair clip.

Don’t lose your temper, don’t lose your temper.

‘I can understand the desire to remove all traces of your son Claude from the palace, ma’am,’ Lottie began, her voice calmer and more patient than the royal family deserved. ‘And, while I think that is an excellent idea for your peace of mind, more urgently I believe we need to figure out Claude’s ultimate plan. We need a way to stop him and Leviathan. If you have any information, perhaps –’

‘Yes, yes, all traces of him,’ Willemena continued as if Lottie had never spoken, banging her wolf’s-head cane on the floor so hard it sent vibrations through the oak. ‘Whatever was left of him, take it away and have it burned.’

There was no need to look at Lottie this time. It was clear that Ellie’s grandmother was avoiding something. All the paranoia Ellie had been feeling sparked inside her again like a city coming to life after a blackout. Her family were lying. She didn’t know about what, or why, but she couldn’t let them get away with this.

‘With respect,’ Lottie said, ‘removing Claude is one step, but we must also look at –’

‘We must make sure there is not a speck of him in evidence by the time the decennial Golden Flower Festival comes round.’

What? Ellie could hardly hold herself together.

Lottie tried again. Only the faintest hint that she shared Ellie’s shock came across in the way her eyelids fluttered. ‘Pardon me, ma’am. I fear I’ve misheard you. Are you really planning to host another Flower Festival? I thought you’d decided to halt them indefinitely after what happened last summer.’

The Flower Festival, Ellie thought, grinding her teeth at the awful memory of the night Lottie had nearly been kidnapped a year ago.

‘Not just a Flower Festival.’ Willemena banged her cane again as if it were Lottie who was being preposterous. ‘This is the Golden Flower Festival. We have it every ten years and allow the citizens of Maradova to explore the grounds. If we don’t stick to our traditions, people will suspect something is wrong, and after the disaster with the media this summer no one can know there are any cracks in the Wolfson family. No one.’ She banged her cane once more for good measure, causing Lottie’s eyelids to flutter even faster.

‘Ma’am, I’m not sure if –’

Ellie stepped in front of Lottie before she could finish. ‘I think what Lottie is trying to say, is that, with all due respect –’ of which there is none – ‘removing Claude’s painting achieves nothing. Neither did exiling him in the first place. You can’t all keep pretending that nothing is wrong. It will blow up in our faces.’ Ellie’s voice came out weary and ragged, not her usual angry, sarcastic tone.

Her father glared at her. ‘Eleanor, we are trying to have a civil discussion.’

Anger burned on her tongue as she met his eyes. ‘And you. We know what you did. Lottie’s been polite enough not to tell you how she found out all this mess led back to our family but we know you’ve been hiding things from us.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Her father’s tone was still harsh but she saw his mask slipping, worry giving itself away in the furrowing of his brow.

‘We know what you threw away and covered up for the sake of the Wolfson name. We know about your letters to Kana, your first love.’ She took a moment to relish the shock this would cause her father, but his face remained inscrutable. Only her mother reacted, looking so hurt that Ellie recoiled.

The letters proving her father’s secret relationship with another student he’d met while studying abroad had originally been Claude’s weapon, a way to discredit the crown – except that Ellie had taken it for herself. She’d expected the impact to be a sharp and sleek stab, something to draw out the poisonous blood of her family and all the harm they caused everyone they met for the sake of the throne, only there was nothing satisfying about their reaction at all.

‘I think there is a lot of confusion right now.’ Her mother spoke in her usual sighing melody, only this time it was tinged with pain. ‘Perhaps we need –’

‘Why isn’t Jamie here?’ Ellie interrupted, determined not to let her mother’s hurt stop her from asking the questions she needed answered.

On speaking his name, Ellie could immediately picture Jamie, the bandages on his upper arm from the shallow knife wound he’d taken from Ingrid, the stony look on his face, suffering through everything, always for her and her family. It made her sick.

‘Jamie isn’t part of the immediate family, Eleanor.’ This time her grandmother answered.

Ellie stared pointedly at the painting above the fireplace again, wanting to make sure they all knew what she was talking about when she spoke her next words. ‘That’s never been a problem before.’

The silence that followed was music to her ears; her family couldn’t hide anything from her any more.

‘Excuse me, ma’am, if I may?’ Lottie’s clear, calm voice brought an embarrassed flush to Ellie’s face. She hadn’t meant to lose her temper. ‘Could we possibly take a moment’s recess while I talk to Ellie privately?’

Without waiting for permission, Lottie grabbed Ellie’s arm and led her out, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the great hall.

After the heavy doors had banged shut behind them, Lottie turned to her, her serene mask dropping to reveal a flood of worry. ‘Why did you do that?’

Ellie paused, taken aback. ‘Didn’t you see the looks on their faces? I want them to know they can’t hide anything from me.’

‘This isn’t a game, Ellie! We’re trying to get to the bottom of this before something terrible happens.’ Lottie’s voice was only a raised whisper but it made her feel guilty.

Ellie shook her head in frustration, running her fingers through her hair like she was trying to pull out all her awful feelings. ‘You shouldn’t have to worry about any of this. They’re the ones who are impossible to talk to. They don’t seem to want to solve anything, and now they’re going ahead with the Flower Festival next year. They’re completely unreasonable.’

‘Yes, you’re right. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep trying. I’m sure if I keep talking to them, eventually they’ll see they need to be open and honest.’

Ellie found herself once again in awe of how Lottie could always soothe her, always say the right thing, until she said exactly what Ellie absolutely didn’t want to hear.

‘Why don’t we tell them about Haru? I bet if we tell them we can all put our knowledge together to figure out what they want and why they keep targeting Jamie.’

Ellie froze, all her paranoia and frustration rushing back. ‘No, we’re not telling them about Haru,’ she said calmly, remembering the look on her grandmother’s face when she’d mentioned Jamie. ‘That’s our secret.’

‘Ellie, I just don’t see how this is going to help anyone,’ Lottie pleaded.

‘It helps me, Lottie, because it’s one thing in all this chaos that I have control over. And if they’re keeping secrets from me, then I can keep secrets from them.’

‘This is mad. You’re acting like –’

‘Like what?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Lottie replied, her defeated look making Ellie feel sick with shame. ‘Let’s just go back in and I’ll try to salvage what I can.’

She didn’t look at Ellie as they made their way back through the creaking door into the frigid room. Ellie’s guilt was quickly replaced by anger when she saw her family whispering together. They turned, looking like a pack of wolves caught unexpectedly, feasting over what Ellie could only assume were more secrets.

‘Are you ready to have a civil discussion now?’ her father asked.

Ellie just caught the hint of a quiver in his eyebrow and she glanced at Lottie, whose face was once again a mask of calm, and nodded.

‘We have some information we want to share,’ Lottie said, and Ellie froze. She wouldn’t tell them about Haru, would she?

No, she’d never betray her. Lottie was the one person she could trust. But Ellie’s hands trembled, sweat building on her palms.

Please, Lottie. Please not you too.

‘In the woods Ingrid said a few cryptic things,’ Lottie began. The relief that washed over Ellie’s body was so intense she thought she might collapse. ‘The first was that Claude would be welcomed back “just like Alexis”. She seemed to be suggesting that –’ Lottie hesitated – ‘that you, King Alexander and Queen Matilde, would be disposed of. We can’t rule out the possibility that this may well be the reason they needed the mind-controlling capabilities of the Hamelin Formula.’

Ellie couldn’t help sucking her teeth in shock, but her parents hardly reacted.

‘And the second and slightly weirder one …’ Lottie glanced at Ellie but quickly continued. ‘She asked me why Jamie was my Partizan.’

‘Wait, what?’ Ellie spluttered. ‘You never told me any of this.’

‘I’m telling you now. I thought it would be best if your whole family heard it together.’ The hint of regret in Lottie’s voice made Ellie angry all over again, this time because Lottie had had to shoulder the burden of this terrible information. ‘Of course, Ingrid meant the princess of Maradova, but I just thought it was odd, and perhaps you would know why she would …’ Lottie trailed off, her eyes widening as she stared at the hearth.

Ellie followed her gaze. At the far end of the hall, the fire danced, caught in a powerful wind that had howled down the chimney. Flames contorted like a misshapen body until suddenly the fire blew out completely. A dark cloud of ash spluttered out like the whole palace were coughing up dirt, as if the very building itself was sick. The ash settled in a long black line right up to the steps of the throne platform, like a filthy shadow.

No one said a word. With the one source of warmth in the room gone, the breath in Ellie’s lungs turned icy. Above, looking down at them in judgement, the painting of the Wolfson family had darkened, all the soft light upon it extinguished completely.

It was Ellie’s mother who spoke first.

‘Wasn’t that strange?’ Queen Matilde laughed, an odd sound that was more like a panicked bird. ‘Thank you, Lottie, that’s very useful; we will discuss it privately.’ She rubbed her forehead, causing a tendril of hair to fall out of its carefully arranged chignon. On either side of her, King Alexander and Willemena were staring at the empty fireplace like they’d seen a ghost. Ellie had never seen her family behave like this; it was as if the Wolfsons were crumbling in front of her. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing we can share with you right now but hopefully we will be able to build on it soon. Now I think it’s time you were getting ready to head back to Rosewood.’

They were being dismissed.

Lottie nodded, and Ellie found she did not want to stay in the cold dark room with her family behaving so oddly. In fact, she wanted to get herself and Lottie as far away from them as possible.