16.
PRESENT DAY

Rowan's meant to come with us to Serades, Lotte thought at Maloru for the tenth time that morning. But the boy was being stubborn to a fault.

It was true that he didn't like Rowan, but that was only because she was human. He sat chewing his breakfast of wilted nettles in silence and didn't look at either of them.

Fintan was back in Lotte's pocket from the moment Rowan awoke. He refused to show himself unless there was a clear decision about Rowan.

Do you have any idea how hard it is when the only person who understands you is ignoring you? Lotte thought.

She knew he could hear what she was saying, because she was getting better at feeling the words travel their connection. It was a little like talking without a mouth. Her thoughts—except the ones that got put into word—got left behind.

Maloru sighed, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry. It's just..." He looked at Rowan who gave him a puzzled look. "Are you sure about this?"

"Sure about what?" Rowan asked.

"I was talking to Lotte..."

I'm sure, Lotte thought. I'm very sure.

"Fine. I'll trust your judgment." He cut Lotte a serious look. "But remember to trust mine too in...in the future."

Lotte narrowed her eyes. Whatever Maloru was saying sounded suspicious and she told him exactly that.

"Just... just trust me." Before Lotte could say anymore, he nodded towards Rowan. "Hey human, we're headed to Serades too. You can join us. Lotte has a visa."

Rowan's jaw dropped, but her look of astonishment only grew when Fintan popped out of Lotte's pocket and settled on Maloru's shoulder. She pointed. "There's a flying lizard on your shoulder."

Fintan puffed out smoke in annoyance.

"He's a dragon," Maloru said. "His name's Fintan and he's our visa."

"No way," Rowan said, but she was grinning.

Some time later, they were all back in the car. The fire in Fayder appeared to have died down, though smoke still travelled on the wind. Lotte sunk into her thoughts of last night.

The curse had not liked that Blue succeeded to reveal who he was to her. It proceeded to punish him for half the night. He had promised her it couldn't kill him. He tried to smile and told her she could leave if she wanted.

But how could she leave him like that? She couldn't touch him, but she waited there hours, tears running down her cheeks as she listened to his pain. Each fork of violet lightening that slid over his skin was like a needle in her heart.

Finally, near dawn, the curse let up. She seized him in her own arms, fingers running through his hair, cheek pressed to his—doing everything in her power to comfort him.

And like that, the night ended.

Lotte sighed.

"Oooh huuu, that's the sound of someone in love," Rowan said.

"Lotte said she was thinking about ink," Maloru immediately translated.

"Mmmhmm..." Rowan smiled knowingly. "We're calling it ink these days, are we? So what's she like? Or are you one of those people who like...men?"

"You have no idea how Lotte feels strongly about ink," Maloru said, without even listening to Lotte's responses. "You would too, if you'd be able to do half the things she can."

"First of all, you two could stop glaring at me as if I kicked a baby, and second—"

The motorcar made a rude spitting noise, as if it were blowing a raspberry, and began to slow.

"Why's it doing that?" Maloru asked.

The car sputtered and spat, and stopped, white smoke rising from the bonnet.

"Why's it doing that?" Maloru asked again.

"We—ell." Rowan tapped the steering wheel with her fingers. Having left the highway, they were on a narrow lonely road with steep banks of green shrubs growing on each side and hadn't passed a single car in over an hour. "You see, loves, I didn't know how to bring this up, but we've run out of petrol."

"You knew this petrol thing was happening all this time and you didn't say anything?" Maloru cried in a panic.

"Oh, this petrol thing always happens when you drive a motorcar. That's why it runs out and you have to get more."

"How do we get more? Do we have to make it?"

"If we were all of us humans in a non-stolen car, then we'd've gone to the petrol station half a mile back and got filled up."

It's fine. We could walk, Lotte told Maloru.

"Walk? Did you see what's going on outside?" Maloru said, jerking his thumb towards the window. "I've seen an airship pass overhead every minute. We've passed military patrols and I've actually seen trucks carrying massive iron tanks. We're right in the middle of the war, Lotte. What will happen to us if we stumble into another battlefield and we aren't lucky enough to have enough time for enchantments?"

Lotte settled into her seat and mulled over Maloru's words. It was true that with the car they managed to cover more distance than they would've on foot. The sooner they reached Serades, the smaller the chance they could die on the way.

With the car, they would've been able to reach Amorca by tomorrow with another stop to sleep on the side of the road.

But what choice did they have? It looked like they didn't have the car anymore.

Or did they?

Lotte began rummaging through her pack, sorting between bottles of inks and brushes.

"Eh, Lotte? What're you doing?" Maloru asked.

She'd have to improvise, naturally. But there was a feeling in her gut that this was doable.

"Are you going to enchant us to fly?" he asked eagerly.

Lotte shook her head. Flying when the skies were full of airships? That wouldn't be a bright idea.

"Then what?"

Maloru gasped when he heard Lotte's reply.

"What? What's she doing?" Rowan asked.

"She's going to enchant the car."

"Brilliant!"

"No, it isn't." Maloru rubbed his hands over his curls. "Listen, Lotte, this could be dangerous. You shouldn't try something this extreme right after what happened. What if it will take even longer for your voice to come back? What if it locks away your voice forever?"

Lotte was willing to try. She didn't know whether her voice was lost for a few days, or forever. She didn't feel like she wanted to care anymore about making mistakes and getting it wrong.

"And there're iron in this thing. Iron can't be enchanted. It'll just come into contact with your Leilan magic and explode."

"Does it have to?" Rowan asked.

"That's always the reaction between forceful magic and iron, everyone know tha—" Maloru stopped speaking abruptly, cheeks flushing.

Frowning, Lotte went back to sorting her inks.

"Sorry..." Maloru said.

"What? What did she say?" Rowan asked.

"It's Lotte," he replied in a muted voice. "She's the exception to the rule. She's iron and magic all mixed up together."

"Ah."

Lotte just ignored them. She jumped out of the car and then knocked on the bonnet. Maloru and Rowan both came out as well. Maloru muttered about wanting to keep away once the car exploded and Rowan helped Lotte open the bonnet.

Inks set out, brushes at the ready...
She got to work.

***
9 YEARS BEFORE THE WAR

When Lotte assumed she finished being seven, she began being eight. Like a green shoot springing from freshly raked earth, she suddenly grew taller. All at once, her clothes didn't fit her right. Mr. Henri ordered her all new dresses, stockings, petticoats, shoes—everything had to accommodate the added centimetres.

Melony also received dresses to match Lotte's, of course. They were a set, wherever they went.

Lotte found that having someone to love chased away the nagging emptiness that always dwelled in her chest. She wanted to love more people. She tried loving Miss Yudo, but her nanny proved very difficult to love.

As for Mr. Henri, Lotte feared loving him. She didn't think he'd appreciate being loved.

"You're nothing to them. All they care about is a story." She kept thinking back on Wysley's jealous words.

He hadn't been wrong.

But Lotte wasn't deterred. Just as her heart had pushed her to paint, now it also wanted her to love. She was determined to listen to it, to collect every morsel of glimmering emotion and build a castle of light in her soul.

"Ah, you're that marvellous Poppin," cooed a lady in a burgundy dress. The colour really didn't suit the shade of her skin, making her look haggard. The cut of the fabric wasn't meant for her bulging frame and her hair had been bleached from all its colour. Still, there was something usually sincere about her, as if the face she wore was her own and not an elaborate mask.

"I've been wanting to meet you ever since that event at the Besteries last year," the woman went on, wiping her sweating forehead with her handkerchief.

Lotte couldn't remember which event the woman mentioned. All their social calls were made out of rich fabric, bejewelled necks, carefully constructed finger-foods, tinkling crystal goblets and chandeliers. Brunches, dinners, balls, it all mixed in Lotte's mind.

She spent that time smiling with her lips only and imagining things she would draw once she got home.

The woman sighed and leaned a little closer to Lotte. "Between you and me, I felt so bad for you." She shook her head. "I heard you don't even get to attend school. It must be dreadfully lonely and dull without any friends."

Lotte raised her doll. "Melony is my friend," she said in all seriousness.

"Bless your heart." The woman laughed, hand going to her heart. Why did she looked so sad? "How about next week for the Valishers brunch I bring my daughter Nella with me? She's a few years older than you but you're ever so mature, I'm sure you'll get on swimmingly."

"I'd like that," Lotte said. "Thank you."

It wasn't the first time people attempted to connect between Lotte and their children. They saw her as if she were made of pure gold and that her wealth and value could extend to people who interacted with her.

There was always a barrier between Lotte and human children, one that she didn't know how to cross.

But now she was determined to love, determined to learn. She would make friends, she would create connections.

"That's settled then. I'm Mrs. Winpet. I'm sure you and Nella will hit it off."

"I'm sure we...will." Something caught Lotte's attention from across the room. Mr. Henri was conversing with a slender gentleman of unusual height.

He wore a simple dove-grey suit and maroon bow-tie. On his head, like all gentlemen, he had a matching top-hat.

But he was different. Maybe it was his auburn hair, tied back at the nape of his neck into a ponytail so long, it extended all the way to his lower back. Or perhaps it was the shape of his body, legs longer than torso in the same proportions as growing children. Or was it the easy grace of his movements, the air of sharp intelligence he projected and the way no one in the room looked at him directly?

Something about him was strikingly familiar.

He handed Mr. Henri a business card as Lotte, transfixed, began to move across the room towards him. She did not excuse herself from Mrs. Winpet. She looked nowhere but at him.

The man nodded his head as Mr. Henri spoke, before looking over Mr. Henri's shoulder, directly at Lotte.

She could see his face now, clearly. The bright red-brown of his eyes, his colourless skin illuminated slightly from within, his sharp, pointed features that could've easily been feminine. She hurried her steps.

He smiled at her. Something stirred in her memory. Tears that were wept by a very small child. Warm hands stroking her hair. A voice telling her to forget.

A woman in a peach dress stepped in front of Lotte followed by two of her laughing friends. When Lotte skirted around them, the man was nowhere to be seen.

Mr. Henri stood alone with a contemplative expression on his face. He started when he saw Lotte emerge from the crowd, clutching Melony to her chest, neck craned, searching.

"Poppy? Is everything alright?"

"Where did he go? Did he say?"

"Who, dearest?"

"That man. You were talking with him. What did he say?"

Mr. Henri's frown went all the way from his eyebrows to his mouth. "A man... I don't recall..." His dark eyes danced from side to side.

"He gave you his card," Lotte insisted. "It's in your pocket."

Mr. Henri pulled out a card. It was cream-coloured and completely blank on one side.

He flipped it over.

YOU WILL CALL ME IF THERE IS NEED, was written in bold gold letters.

"What is this?" Mr. Henri asked, flipping the card to the blank side again, searching for some kind of explanation. "How did I get this?"

Then, his face, confused one moment, became blank the next. He mechanically put the card back into his pocket emerged from his stupor with a smile. "Ah, Poppy dearest, how're you liking the party?"

"It's a little odd," Lotte said, her insides squirming with questions she couldn't ask. She knew that man wasn't human. She knew they had met before.

She knew they would meet again.