Princess at Heart (The Rosewood Chronicles)

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.’

Julius had broken his arm during his chase of Saskia and the princess in Tokyo, ending up in a hospital near Shinjuku. It had taken a lot of money to persuade the authorities to sweep the incident under the rug and get Julius back to the compound in Yakushima. Worst of all, they’d both failed. Jamie had got away from her and they hadn’t got even a lick of revenge on Saskia for what she’d done to Julius’s eye.

‘We’re leaving,’ Ingrid confessed, knowing Julius hated being uprooted – that, like her, he craved a place to make his own. ‘The Master says it’s time to leave Japan.’

After a long sigh, Julius winced, using his good hand to rub at his broad stubbly chin. ‘Where are we going?’

‘He has another sympathizer in Germany, a friend from his time at university to whom he’s promised favours once our plan is complete.’

‘Closer to Maradova?’

‘Closer to England.’

‘Ah, of course.’ Julius whistled. ‘One thing at a time.’

His remaining good eye started to close, his pain meds making him lethargic. It didn’t help that the room stank of sandalwood incense. Ingrid decided now was a good time to get him some food so he’d have something to eat when he woke up.

Stepping out into the ugly windowless corridor, Ingrid’s ears pricked, a telltale pitter-patter coming from round the corner. Clasping the spider knives sheathed at her side, Ingrid continued down the corridor, her kitten heels echoing a metallic click-clack against the walls. Her wrists only hurt a little now, the dull ache a ghostly memory of the injury Jamie had given her in Tokyo.

As Ingrid approached the corner, a black-clad figure darted out, skidding on the floor and aiming a knife at Ingrid’s face. With lightning speed, Ingrid lunged out of the way, the knife whizzing past her nose, and with a quick flick of her spider blade she sent her attacker’s knife flying into the wall with a clang. In one more swift movement, she grabbed the figure and spun them round until they were on their knees.

‘Oopsie!’ The person laughed, before biting down hard on Ingrid’s wrist, forcing her to let go.

‘Stella, you brat,’ Ingrid hissed. ‘Where’s your brother?’

Stella grinned, her freckled face contorting to reveal a set of teeth obscured by pink braces. ‘Behind you.’

Ingrid turned like a tornado, preparing for the inevitable attack, only there was no one there. Behind her, two voices joined in hysterical laughter.

‘Made you look!’ they chorused.

‘I remember when you were both quiet and bearable,’ Ingrid growled, turning to face them.

Stella and Sam were their youngest and latest Leviathan recruits, hand-picked by Claude for a specific project that he was planning. When they’d first arrived, Sam had been a quiet boy, keen to be useful. His older sister was similarly dedicated to pleasing people. As it turned out, the behaviour had been unreliable; they’d been playing an ambitious game – to become the Master’s favourites. If Ingrid didn’t watch her step, they’d succeed. She used to think they were little mice, not worth paying any attention to, but now she realized they were rats.

Sam tutted, his hazel eyes locking on to Ingrid’s. ‘Useless Julius and insignificant Ingrid.’

Stella chimed in. ‘It’s true because it rhymes.’

Ingrid could kill them both; she knew she could. They’d never finished their Partizan training. In fact, they’d most likely have never been allowed to graduate – they were too sloppy. This perhaps explained why they’d joined Leviathan, knowing it was their best and only option to rise to the top.

‘It doesn’t rhyme, you little idiot,’ Ingrid spat, turning to the kitchen.

‘Doesn’t mean it’s not true!’ Stella called after, the two of them falling into pace just behind her. ‘Can’t you take a joke?’

Ingrid didn’t reply.

‘Where did you go the other day?’ Sam asked, his nose twitching like he’d picked up a curious scent. ‘You were missing for nearly five days.’

Ingrid froze for just a second at the kitchen doorway. She’d been careful to cover her tracks when she’d gone to Rosewood Hall to seek her revenge on the princess and her Partizan. She’d burned the letters they were going to use to expose the Maravish royal family, along with any evidence of her flights or travel. The only mistakes she’d made were the injury she’d accidentally inflicted on Jamie, not to mention the fact that she’d nearly got herself caught. All because that stupid spoiled princess had evaded her, again. If they found out any of this and told the Master, especially after she’d been given strict orders not to go anywhere near Jamie, he would never forgive her.

‘I needed some time away.’ She kept her answer vague as she made her way into the cold kitchen. ‘To repent.’

‘Probably for the best.’ To Ingrid’s irritation, the siblings were still following. ‘After how you disappointed the Master in Tokyo.’

Ignoring them as best she could, Ingrid began fixing two plates of food.

‘Good thing the Master finally realized you shouldn’t be allowed near the Partizan he wants.’

‘Did no one tell you they don’t allow rats in the kitchen?’ Ingrid said with a scowl, grabbing some fruit and two caramel pudding cups from the storeroom.

‘Haru is so much better for the job, don’t you agree?’ Stella’s voice was like acid on her skin. ‘Apparently he’s already got the little princess in tow, and Jamie adores him.’

Perfect Haru. When Ingrid thought of him, every hair on her body stood on end. Everything about him was fake. ‘Shut up,’ she growled in warning.

‘Are you disagreeing with the Master’s choice?’

‘Don’t you two have something you should be doing?’

‘Nope.’ Stella shrugged, checking her fingernails. ‘We’re getting ready for school.’

‘What?’

‘We’re going to school,’ Sam replied.

‘St Agnus’s in Maradova. We start next week.’ They both turned to watch her reaction now. ‘Didn’t the Master tell you?’

Ingrid picked up the tray of food and started back to Julius’s room, her neck bristling at the sound of Stella and Sam bursting into laughter again behind her.

‘Oh, Crow!’ Sam called after her, rushing to the doorway. ‘Completely forgot, the Master wanted us to tell you something.’

Ingrid froze, itching to hear from Claude, despite what felt like an eternity of being in his bad graces. She needed to know she could still be useful to him, that he still trusted her.

‘He says, if Haru continues as he is, the Maravish Partizan will definitely see our side, with no need to use the Hamelin Formula on him … yet.’ Stella and Sam looked at each other. ‘He wants you to – how did he phrase it? – stay away from Jamie should he choose to join us.’

Ingrid’s fingers curled round the cold metal tray, a million furious thoughts racing through her head. ‘Thank you.’ Then she marched off.

By the time she reached Julius’s room and shut the door behind her, her whole body was shaking. You just have to wait, she told herself. Everything was messy right now because they were getting close to the final stages of their plan. Once it was executed, she’d get what she’d been promised. Everything would finally be right in the world and she would be part of that.

‘What’s wrong?’ Julius asked, his eyes fluttering open slowly.

Ingrid turned to him, her train of thought coming abruptly to an end. It was like being thrown off a horse, landing her back in Rose Wood, the choking scent of roses and lavender filling her nose while thorns scratched her ankles and tree roots tripped her. She was back by the giant oak tree, her fingers tightening over golden curls, when the princess of Maradova had escaped her grasp by slicing through her own hair. Why did that image keep coming back to her? Why couldn’t she escape it?

‘The Maravish royal family,’ Ingrid growled. ‘That’s what’s wrong.’