Princess at Heart (The Rosewood Chronicles)

Dear Princess,

These are your last clues, and I do hope the pieces will all come together with them.

I have built this puzzle around you, and everything I know about you, so I will tell you now that it is your knowledge of fairy tales that will guide you.

Let it not be said that you and I have nothing in common; in fact, your grandmother used to read one story in particular to me and my brother growing up, one that has become very special to me over the years. It is exactly this fairy tale that will be the key to uncovering the truth. Search for Salten, 1923.

Time is ticking on your chance to put things right before I take it into my own hands.

Your uncle, Claude

‘Yep, there it is!’ Binah pulled the faded book by Felix Salten out from the shelf in the library, the ancient jacket nearly coming clean off.

They were in the dark and dusty rear section of the library where the oldest books were kept, and it was only Binah’s prefect status that had got them permission to nose around freely. Gently, like holding a baby bird, Binah lifted up their find, an original copy of a book Lottie had always had an odd relationship with – Eine Lebensgeschichte aus dem Walde, or, as most people knew it, Bambi.

‘Why Bambi?’ Lottie mused, staring at the book like it might be able to answer her question. ‘We had a stag with a crown, then a wolf with a crown, and now Bambi.’

‘The stag makes sense, but I don’t remember there being any wolves in Bambi, let alone any royal wolves.’ Binah delicately flicked through the pages, the nostalgic illustrations making Lottie wince.

‘No, there aren’t.’

Binah tapped her chin. ‘Maybe they’re trying to say the wolves aren’t meant to be in power.’

‘A usurper?’ Lottie exclaimed, shocked by the idea.

‘Whoa!’ Binah held her hands up. ‘Slow down – there’s no point in jumping to conclusions.’

‘I just … I don’t get it,’ Lottie groaned. ‘Claude didn’t want to take the throne of Maradova. That’s why he was exiled and Ellie’s dad took the crown.’ Lottie shoved the letter in her pocket. ‘Why’s he doing all this? What does he want?’

‘Maybe that’s the whole point,’ Binah said. ‘That there’s more to it.’

Lottie tried to focus, but her brain was still fuzzy after her run-in with Haru. He had left her feeling paranoid. She felt as if she might look up to see floating eyeballs staring at her. Even working with Binah no longer felt like a weight off her shoulders. Now it was another thing she’d been given permission to do, and, worst of all, the book had to be Bambi.

‘I always hated this book,’ Lottie confessed, tucking it underneath her arm so they could find a quiet spot at the back. ‘It was the one story I’d never let my mother read to me.’

‘Because of what happens to Bambi’s mum?’

The moment they were seated beneath the library’s skylight, Binah turned to her inquisitively, the crown of curls arranged on top of her head bouncing like a little exclamation mark.

‘Surprisingly no.’ Lottie flicked through the yellowed pages to find the part that always made her so upset, and she wasn’t sure if it was her residual frustration at Haru cornering her, or her anger at Claude and his terrible game, but she found herself scowling at the pages.

‘See here.’ She pointed down at the image of the great stag looming over the young Bambi, antlers like a crown above his head. ‘This is the prince of the woods; he is the stag that has survived the longest in the unpredictable forest, evading all hunters, humans and predators. He is wise and ancient, and Bambi is his son.’

Binah listened attentively, so Lottie went on.

‘Yet, for all his wisdom and knowledge, when Bambi loses his mother, he still doesn’t tell him he’s his father; he waits until Bambi has learned everything there is to know, passing on the title, and the cycle continues with two young fawns, Bambi’s children, who he promptly ignores in the same way as his father.’ Slamming the book shut sent a large cloud of dust into the air and Lottie squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I hate it,’ she whispered.

Binah’s reaction was not what she expected.

‘You really have a way with stories, Lottie. I can’t wait to see what you’ll offer the world after we finish school.’

Lottie spluttered out a shocked laugh, her cheeks going pink as a rose at the compliment. ‘You’re the one who’s going to do all the amazing things when school ends.’

Binah looked away now, turning to a blank page in her notebook where she drew a few question marks around the word ‘Bambi’. ‘Actually Ollie and I are thinking of travelling across East Africa and South America after school ends, to visit my cousins in Kenya and his grandparents in Brazil, see the Big Five, walk the Inca Trail. We’ve already started planning.’

Lottie’s head shot up. ‘You and Ollie, as in my Ollie?’

‘Well, yes. I’ve been exchanging letters with him ever since the summer.’

So, not my Ollie any more, Lottie thought, and it felt like part of her was coming loose, the image she had of her life sliding a little further out of view.

‘You’re taking a year off?’ she asked quickly, trying to expel the unpleasant thought from her mind. ‘I thought you were heading to Oxford to study law. Aren’t they weird about gap years?’

Binah shrugged. ‘I’ve spent the last fourteen years being the perfect student and perfect daughter. I’m the poster child of queer Black girls; I get the best grades, excel in all sports and clubs, not to mention my prefect duties. I need a break.’

‘But it comes so naturally to you. I thought you had a whole plan?’ Lottie felt the words tumble out of her, unable to understand why the idea of people changing their original path was so distressing.

‘I suppose –’ Binah sighed, giving Lottie a sideways glance – ‘but I realized I’d like some time for me, where I don’t need to think about being a perfect role model, where I can just go wild. So, before I throw myself into saving the world, I want to explore it a little.’

Lottie mulled this over, feeling embarrassed that she was floundering while Binah had such a clear idea of her own identity and what she wanted.

‘The truth is, the more I think about it, the more I realize,’ continued Binah, ‘that I think perhaps what I actually want to do is go to King’s College to study physics or astrophysics. You know, something to do with space and the universe, where we’re all working together – not a subject where we’re competing with each other.’ An excited grin erupted on Binah’s face, a plan forming while she brought the idea to life. ‘Maybe you could apply there too? They do a great English course.’

Lottie nearly choked on her laughter, as if Binah had made a very funny joke.

‘Don’t be silly, Lottie – you’d get into King’s easily.’

‘No, I mean, I’m going to Maradova, of course, continuing my Portman duties. I’m sure the work will truly start once school ends and we’ve defeated Claude once and for all.’

‘But what about when Ellie takes the throne?’

The question was so unexpected that it felt like someone had pulled the ground out from underneath her feet. An image of Ellie came into her head, but it wasn’t the princely figure she usually saw. It was scowling down at her, trying to get rid of her, and it was so painful it made her eyes sting.

‘I don’t …’ Her words dried up. Without Ellie and the Wolfsons, what did she have? ‘I don’t know.’

Above them a slow pitter-patter began, the world beyond the skylight shifting with the building rain.

‘I have to go. Looks like it’s going to start chucking it down any minute now, and, silly me, I don’t have an umbrella. So I’d better get back, shouldn’t I?’ Lottie laughed. ‘I need to get back to solving the rest of this puzzle anyway.’

Binah’s eyes narrowed, seeing right through the excuse.

‘May I ask, have you told her about these letters yet?’

Lottie waved off Binah’s concern, hiding her face. ‘It’s part of my Portman duties to handle all the tricky stuff,’ Lottie declared, packing up her things. ‘Thanks for the help, Binah. I really appreciate it.’

‘But don’t we need to open the other letter?’

‘It’s fine. I’ll handle it on my own from here.’ Throwing her bag over her shoulder, Lottie marched off, desperately needing to get out of the suddenly stuffy library. ‘I shouldn’t have dragged you into this anyway.’

Using her satchel as an umbrella, Lottie rushed to the exit before Binah could say any more. Surrounded by others running to shelter, Lottie’s path was clear, and she was determined to get back before any of that rain could get to her. She knew what she was doing, didn’t she?

Lottie marched through the Ivy Wood gate, nearly bumping into another boy on his way out. It made her jump – too many eyes, too many people, everyone watching.

Without hesitation, she headed straight to Room 221.

‘Please!’ she whispered, needing something, anything to distract her, to anchor her back to the Wolfsons, to give her a purpose. ‘Let me solve this.’

And there it was locked in her bedside drawer, something to keep the chain that tied her to Ellie strong and unbreakable: the second envelope.

She grabbed the manila envelope, running her fingers along the slit and pouring the contents out on her bed.

She was surprised to find only one item inside. She had been hoping for something more to sink her teeth into. Instead what fell on to her bedspread appeared to be a photo, an old one.

‘OK, Goat Man.’ Lottie let out a long puff of air to calm herself. ‘This’d better make sense or …’ Lottie trailed off as she held up the picture. It was a photograph of a group of women she didn’t recognize. They were smiling cheerfully at one another and at the photographer. There was something familiar about their clothes and the background. One of the younger women in particular had a stern expression and a build that reminded her of …

Her eyes darted to the words at the bottom of the photo that were written in Maravish. Wolfson Palace female staff with their children, 2002.

She was wrong; she did know these women. The one who looked familiar was a younger Edwina Wintor, head of staff. There was also a short black-haired woman in a sensible maid uniform holding a serious-looking child, a child who was now all grown-up and worked in the palace herself. It was a baby Midori. And clutching the hand of a chubby red-headed woman in a matching dress and apron was a girl with a wide grin she’d become so used to seeing, Hanna, also a maid now, her face red and round and happy.

Eyes flickering over the photo, the room held its breath as her gaze rested over the last woman in the image, unknown yet entirely familiar. Once more her mind began to swim in the sea of disjointed clues, a herd of deer and a pack of wolves running along the edges of the room, and the whisper, over and over, of Ingrid’s voice. Why is Jamie your Partizan?

The unknown woman stared back at her with an intelligent side smile, dressed in dirty dungarees with gardening tools firmly attached to her slender hips. Her features were long and elegant, giving her a delicate appearance. Her skin was a shining bronze, and her eyes were gold like the stars at the top of a mountain, eyes that Lottie knew so well.

She knew who this was, like she knew the sky was blue and the grass was green. The question was, why on earth had Claude sent her a photo of Jamie’s mother?