29.
9 YEARS BEFORE THE WAR

The next morning, Lotte woke up to find Poe, Mr. Henri and Mrs. Treebald sitting together over breakfast. It was an odd sight and would've been odder, if the atmosphere surrounding them wasn't so grim.

This new creature was a puzzle to her. She had so many questions that she didn't even know what to ask first. She hadn't been able to get to sleep last night.

She had crept out of her bed and tried to listen at the door of Mr. Henri's study, but, although she could smell them both inside, she couldn't hear anything—not a sound.

It was magic. Again magic.

She had done magic.

And it wasn't the first time. There was that time, years and years and years ago—it seemed like a dream now when she thought of it—that an elven boy had sprung out of her drawing and had talked to her.

"Good morning," she said, staring unblinkingly at Poe.

"Disan anar, sylnan" the elf replied.

"Good morning," Mr. Henri said quietly.

Mrs. Treebald didn't say anything at all. She ate mechanically, bringing her food to her mouth and chewing very slowly. At one point, she even brought up her fork empty but didn't appear to notice it.

Like Lotte, all her attention was on the elf.

"Poppin," Mr. Henri said. While he was dressed as neatly as he always did, there was no colour in his clothes. Everything he wore was black and grey. Even his face looked grey. "Please have a seat, there is something we need to tell you."

Lotte edged towards the table, slipping into a chair across from Mr. Henri and right next to Poe. She didn't have much of an appetite, so she was happy no one was offering her any food.

"Poppy," Mr. Henri said. "There is no easy way to say this..." Mr. Henri twined his fingers together and sighed. "After discussing it long and hard with Mr. Poe last night, we have come to the conclusion that, for your own safety, it would be best that..."

Mr. Henri swallowed hard and proceeded with looking lost.

"What Mr. Treebald is trying to say," said Poe. "Is that you must begin to learn to be caival."

Lotte's heart skipped a beat. This wasn't a bad thing. It was good. It was what she wanted. She smiled at Poe and then looked at Mr. Henri, feeling puzzled at his expression.

"This means, my dear, that you will have to leave us," Mr. Henri said. "This undertaking will be...dangerous for humans."

Lotte's smile vanished. "Leave?"

"We'll remain in Raidox," Poe said. "It is safest for you...here." He frowned. "For now."

"Next week," Mr. Henri said. "We'll bury that doll. The grave will bear the name Poppin Treebald, and you will start anew."

Lotte began shaking. To leave? She didn't want to leave. She liked it here. She was only getting started. She turned from Mr. Henri to Poe, outraged...but his expression stopped her short.

She couldn't believe that only yesterday, she thought she didn't understand the elf's expression. But now he spoke clearly with his eyes, staring straight into her heart.

Maybe it was magic. Some subtle, subversive kind of magic. She didn't really know how to put those suspicions to words and even as she thought them, she knew they weren't true.

He reached over and patted her back. She tried to hold back her tears, but a couple escaped her eyes and clattered onto her plate.

"It's for the best," Mr. Henri said, more to himself. "You will be safe, you will have close guidance." He reached over and took her hand. "I think...I think even you knew it wasn't going to be forever. We were blessed to have you, and the art world too. You'll never be forgotten."

Lotte, vision blurred by watery and red tears, ran round the table and threw her arms round Mr. Henri. She couldn't speak. She couldn't say anything. All she could do was cry and wish for something she couldn't have.

"I'll never forget you," Mr. Henri said again.

***
PRESENT DAY

The buzzing of the curse subsided slowly. Lotte's chest still hurt as if she had been hit by a landslide. She pulled down the front of her shirt, enough to see her chest, causing Maloru to flush deeply.

Lotte gasped.

"What is it?" Rowan asked, edging closer to Lotte.

"Look at this..." The bright blue and teal mark went from her heart, spreading to her right shoulder and down her right arm to the back of her hand. Lotte stripped off her coat and shirt, staying only with the black cotton vest she wore underneath. It looked like an intricate tattoo of a dragon's wing. But when she moved, it sparkled and emitted a glow that could be seen even when she covered it with her hand. The more she looked at it, the more it seemed like it was made out of glass in all shades of blue and green, with bits of pink and yellow in between.

Maloru managed to overcome his embarrassment enough to crouch on Lotte's other side.

Rowan touched the tattoo. "It's just your skin..." she said.

"What was that?" Maloru asked. "Or...who?"

"He was Blue," Lotte said, and all at once, tears filled her eyes. She clasped her hands over her mouth. He was Blue, but Blue was no more. He was gone. She could feel it. Whatever the curse was, whatever he had been, he was gone and she was in his place. That was how he decided to save her life—by forfeiting his own.

Maloru—bless him—didn't ask any questions. He pulled her against him as she dissolved into grief, small ruby tears incased in salty drops sliding from her cheeks and onto his shoulders.

Nothing could compare to the embrace of a Yomi elf when it came to comfort. Even though the pain wouldn't go away, Lotte feared what it would feel like when Maloru let go.

But he had to. They had to continue. Whatever had happened, whatever had changed, they were still in the Rugar's territory—even if that brief sight of the sky dragon had turned the Rugar away.

The face in the sky still watched them and Lotte didn't know how long it would refrain from eating them.

Lotte was not surprised to discover that, even though she was exhausted emotionally, her strength returned to what it once was. And there was something more, something new that had never been there before.

"So, um, was Fintan this Blue person this whole time?" Maloru asked after several hours of silence.

"I don't know—" Lotte began.

"Yes, he was," Rowan said. "I saw it."

Lotte turned to give Rowan a questioning look.

"That night when I caught you embracing him, I saw him turn into Fintan."

"Embracing him?" Maloru's voice was high and loud.

"You knew? This whole time? But that was before—"

"Before you showed me Fintan as a visa," Rowan said. "I know." She looked away. "I thought you knew..."

Lotte stared straight ahead. "I didn't."

The conversation died, there was nothing but the horizon ahead and the grass below for some time, until Maloru suddenly stopped. "Holy stars," he said. "How're we supposed to get into Serades without a visa?"

"We've gotten this far," Rowan said. "We'll figure something out. I'm sure Lotte can arrange a new visa at border control."

That night, Lotte made Rowan a beautiful fire. She was too numb to enjoy enchanting again. Everything felt disturbingly loud yet unbearably far.

"Listen, Lotts..." Rowan said, stretching her hands over the flames. "I know you're sad right now, but it's all for the best..."

Lotte's head whipped towards Rowan. She was too spent to even snap at her. How could this be for the best? Rowan didn't even know who Blue was. Serades—an entire country—was doomed because of her. And maybe it was even worse than that. Who knew what the Rugar would do once the current dragon king died and there was no heir? What other incredible monsters did the dragon king's existence protect the world from?
There was so much unknown to her.

"I know that sounds bad," Rowan said. "I know nothing I say now will make you feel better and whatever you're feeling is as real as it gets. But I'm sure there were things this Blue wasn't telling you—"

"He couldn't tell me," Lotte said, feeling the strands of the curse unravel with her thoughts about it. "Just like I can't tell you."

"Even more things," Rowan said.

Lotte didn't need Rowan telling her this, she already knew it herself. But she was also certain that the little of Blue she had known was sincere, and the love he gave her had been real.

Rowan sighed, looking away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. My...brother always tells me I'm tactless."

"You hardly talk about him," Lotte said, trying to change the subject.

"That's because he's—" Rowan stopped short. "He's a big dreamer, you know? I'm half of the diviner he is, but he gets so tangled in fates and destinies that he sometimes can't find the present."

"Did he ever tell you why I'd be important to you?"

Rowan shook her head. "He never sees things like that. It's more generalised than that. He says they look like differently coloured ribbons that stretch between people. Every ribbon has a different meaning."

"What colour was our ribbon?"

"Brown," Rowan said.

"What does brown mean?"

Rowan smiled. "That's the problem, brown is all the colours mixed together. My brother said that it could be two or more opposing fates fighting for dominance. Considering the fact that I'm a diviner too, it makes sense."

Lotte was lost. She couldn't focus her thoughts.

"Get some rest, Lotts," Rowan said patting her head.

Lotte curled into her usual place among Maloru's roots and closed her eyes.

Sleep found her in an instant, and there she was, inside the tower. It was empty. The hearth in the middle of the room was cold and bare, the tables, chairs, rugs and cushions were all gone. Blue was nowhere to be seen, not in the room, not outside it. Lotte cried for him, called his name, but it was useless.

Morning came. She couldn't bring herself to eat. All she could do was walk and walk, her chest never ceasing from its insistent pain.

By noon, the ground before them because very odd. It was soft white that crunched beneath Lotte's shoes. The whole landscape was a perfect sheet of white.

Lotte bent over and picked it up. It was cold, icy.

"Is this...?"

"Snow!" Maloru, grinning, grabbed a handful, forming a ball. He made to throw it at Lotte, but sobered up and tossed it to the ground. "Sorry...I love snow."

Rowan shivered. "I don't want to sleep in this," she said. "I'm already too cold."

It was cold, even Lotte could feel it.
Small feathers began falling from the overcast sky. Dozens and dozens of them. Thousands of them. Fluffy, soft and silent.

Not feathers. Lotte spread out her palm and caught one.

Snowflakes.

"I've never seen snow before," she said. It still hurt to breath, but the shock of this beauty didn't fail to invoke wonder.

"Look!" Maloru exclaimed, pointing forward.

It was hard to see though the heavily falling snow. About a hundred yards away was a long fence. And to the right, a building.

"Serades," she said in disbelief. "It's Serades."