30.
PRESENT DAY

Maloru paced back and forth in front of them on the tan-veined marble floor, biting his nail. Lotte looked around the massive hall. For a place that was never supposed to have visitors, the Dragon King saved no expenses. Just the walls, which looked to be made of mother-of-pearl, would've cost the same as the entire Sullivan tower in Raidox.

There was gold leaf on the ceiling fixtures and Lotte actually recognised some of the art pieces that hung on the walls.

Not that she had any complaints, the velvet armchairs in the waiting hall were actually quite comfortable.
"Doesn't it strike either of you as suspicious that everything went so smoothly?" Maloru asked, then launched into an imitation of the conversation they had with a very, very surprised border control officer.

Apparently, the visa had been on the back of the invitation letter the whole time. The officer had even looked surprised when they told him about losing the visa and said that Serades only issued visas on paper.

Had Lotte been her usual self, she would've laughed. But her every thought was still on yesterday. Fintan had never been their visa, it was all a misunderstanding. He had been Blue all along.

"Maybe it was only the journey that was a mess," Lotte said. "Things will be better now that we're here."
She didn't actually believe it.

Nor did Rowan.

Only Maloru looked thoughtful. "Well, I suppose if you look at it from a goal-oriented perspective, we made progress." Maloru pointed at Rowan. "You're getting closer to finding your brother." And then at Lotte. "You're still alive and going to do a lot of enchanting. And I've grown seven years in seven days."

"How does that feel?" Rowan asked.

"Like I'm ready to,"—Maloru put his hands on his hips—"take a break."

Footsteps echoed from the far end of the hall. The tiny, bearded border control officer ran in. Lotte wasn't sure what he was. He had the body of a human child and the head of a goat. "Madame Enchantress!" he bleated, with an exceptionally wide grin. "The Dragon King himself has sent a royal escort. They're waiting outside."

Lotte's shoes sunk into the lavish carpeting as she hurried after the officer towards the exit from the immigration office. Massive oak doors were pushed aside, revealing a countryside under a blanket of cottony snow. Two rows of uniformed foot-soldiers stood waiting outside.

Her heart gave a tremendous jerk. They were, all of them, virata, like Blue. Each quite uniquely different. No two virata had a similar skin-tone or hair colour and texture. They all had jewel-like scales in different colours and patterns on their faces. They were breathtakingly beautiful, every single one of them, but none were as beautiful as Blue had been.

In their midst was a gigantic floating golden ball with a door at its side and a few windows. It looked like a round carriage suspended in mid-air.

One of the virata, the chestnut-skinned one with the lime hair and a pattern of stars on his cheeks in tones of orange and purple, ran up to them. "Madame Enchantress," he said with a bell-like voice and a heavy accent. "I am Captain Lacier Dev of Valiu and we have been given the honour of escorting you to the palace."

"Thank you, captain," Lotte said.

"The weather conditions are not optimal," he continued. "So we expect some turbulence. Fortunately, the journey is short."

The captain offered her his arm.

Lotte stared at it. It was like in human plays that depicted the olden times which she had seen as a child.

"Madame Enchantress?" The captain moved his arm a little.

Lotte put her hand through it. She wasn't sure if she was doing it right, but the captain appeared to be satisfied. He led her towards the wheel-less carriage while Maloru and Rowan followed behind.

One of the other soldiers opened the door for her, but she paused before entering to examine it. "What's keeping it up?"

"Not an enchantment," Captain Dev said with a perfect smile that reminded Lotte a little bit of Blue.
She remembered Maloru telling her that the ruling species in Serades were heartbreaking—now she knew what he meant. They were all so jewelled and colourful, it was hard to even notice their uniforms—which were equally sparkling and adorned as their skin, with gold embroidery and gems on the cuffs of their jackets.

"Not an enchantment? Then what?"

"Sorcery, madame enchantress."

Lotte had never heard of sorcery before, but out here in the snow was not a time to have that discussion.

The captain deposited her into the carriage, where the benches were soft with thick cream-coloured satin cushions. No one spared Maloru or Rowan a glance.

"Oooh, look who's all mighty and important," Rowan said once the door had been closed.

The three of them crowded round the windows of the odd vehicle, watching as the virata spread their wings and, in perfect formation, took to the air along with the floating carriage.

"Why would the dragon king need an enchantress if he has sorcery?" Lotte asked. "And Poe told me they already have a Yomi enchantress."

"Maybe because sorcery can't make trains fly," Rowan offered.

"What would they need flying trains for when they have these and can also all fly?" Lotte continued. "And besides, it's not supposed to be possible to enchant things with iron in them."

"It could be all the exchange of price and efficacy," Maloru said, causing both Lotte and Rowan to stare at him.

"Since when did you know magic theory?" Lotte asked.

"Hey, I've been around for a while. I know things, alright?"

Natural magic, like the kind Maloru had, had no real cost since it was produced as a natural function of his body. Enchantment was perceived as a strong form of magic because, while it did have a price, it was minimal when compared with the result thanks to the various materials used.

Lotte didn't know where she fell in that spectrum. She bit the nail on her thumb as she looked out the window at the white land below.

Their carriage shuddered and dipped occasionally, as the wind tossed about the falling snow, but it was nowhere as turbulent as riding on a crazed, flower-inducing enchanted motorcar.
"Look, a city," Maloru said, nose pressed to the glass of the window next to Lotte.

"That must be Serade," Lotte said. "The capital."

Maloru wrinkled his nose.

"Serades is the country that grew around Serade," Lotte explained. "Serade means haven in their language, and Serades is just the plural form."

Maloru stared at her. "Where'd you learn all that?"

Lotte looked back. It was rather curious. There was no information to be had in Raidox, not even in the black market. These facts were just there in her head.

Maloru narrowed his eyes. "What's their language called?"

"Viltulos," Lotte said instantly. "Spoken only by the virata nobility."

"Can you speak it?" Rowan asked.

"No," Lotte replied immediately. "How could I—"

"Are you sure?" Maloru said.

They were both giving her an odd look.

"Say, 'hello my name is Lotte', in Viltulos," said Rowan.

"Chal, unmel Lotte," Lotte's mouth said before her brain could stop her. She gaped at them. What?

"Say, 'I love Maloru'," Maloru offered.

"Wan ere Maloru," Lotte whispered.

"Well..." He cleared his throat. "That's one obstacle out of the way."

Rowan shuddered. "I'm getting goosebumps."

Frowning thoughtfully, Maloru crossed his arms. "Supposing that fellow...What did you call him? Bl—"

Lotte clasped her hand over his mouth and tried to tell him with her eyes that they were inside a magical compartment where the walls could, quite literally, have ears.

Thankfully, he understood.

"Ah, my ears," Rowan suddenly said, trying to yawn.

Was it just her, or were they turning?

The three of them looked out the window. Spread below was a massive royal palace made up of dozens of white towers and turrets. They were turning in large circles, going lower and lower.

"We're here," Lotte breathed.

"That's one huge palace." Rowan said.

Maloru took Lotte's hand. "Are you ready?"

She didn't think she was, but she didn't have a choice. At least she wasn't here alone.

***
9 YEARS BEFORE THE WAR

Poe had a studio flat on the first floor in an old tower in the south end of Republic avenue. He had given Lotte the impression that he was very orderly—his living quarters begged to differ.

There were books everywhere, and wherever there weren't books, there were jars filled with odd liquids and boxes with magical materials, pens and brushes and inks, dozens and dozens of inks. Some sparkled quietly on shelves, some looked like they had tiny wriggling creatures swimming inside them, while others were bold, almost brazen colours which Lotte instantly adored.

Even the bathroom, which was a generous size compared with the rest of the flat, was crowded with more jars, books and boxes.

"As you can see," Poe said cheerfully. "I was not expecting to live...er... how do you say it? As a family."

Family.

The word shocked Lotte from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

Poe stopped what he was doing at her expression. "Did I say the wrong thing? What do humans call poe and sylvarnan who live in the same... home?"

According to that logic, she and Mr. Henri had been a family, too. In fact, officially, Mr. Henri had even adopted a girl named Poppin as his daughter.

There had been love and still, that word had never been used. They were human. Lotte was...not.

"Sylnan?"

"But...I'm Lotte," she said, uncertainly.

Poe looked blatantly confused. As he did before, he sat down onto the low coffee table—nearly the only available surface—to be at eye level with her. It was such an odd thing to do. No one had ever talked to her in that way. "Sylnan," he said, looking very serious. "I confess, I do not understand what is troubling you. It must be the language. But I will learn and you will learn. You are young. It will come very fast. But, for now, let us use our words, and slowly, you can make me understand the problem?"

Lotte felt bashful. There was an intense sincerity about this person which she wasn't sure she could handle. "Family?" she tried.

His eyes went round. "Is that offensive?"

"No." Lotte tried to swallow around the embarrassment in her throat. "I just thought..."

She paused, but Poe didn't interrupt. He was completely attentive. "We're different."

"Yes," Poe agreed.

"How can...how can we be a family?"

Poe drew back slowly, and then he smiled. "Aah. I think I understand. You wonder, since I am alessar, and you are Lotte alessan, how we can be this different and still family?"

Lotte nodded.

Poe nodded too. "We are different. But even those of the same blood are different. For me, difference has never been the...the question."

"The question?"

"Ah, yes, the question is not difference. The question is...oh, I forgot the word..." He knitted his brow together, looking towards one of the bookcases. "Ex....ex...It has an ex in it."

Lotte couldn't think of what he meant.

Then he clicked his fingers. "Acceptance. The question is always acceptance. Can you accept me, sylnan, even if I am an old alessar, a not very good Poe and very boring?"

A bit of laughter burst out of Lotte. He was the least boring person she had met.

"And I accept you, a Lotte, a caival with sad eyes too wise for your face and many mysteries."

A family. It was a strange moment, like they were making a vow to one another. Lotte had a sudden urge to cry and she didn't know why.

"Of course," Poe continued. "I will have to arrange for us, eh, a better house? For today, this is what we have. Will you help me choose?"

Lotte smiled with teary eyes and nodded her head. "What's the word in elfish?"

"The word?"

"Family..."

"Ah," Poe smiled. "Tulean."

Lotte remembered it as a sweet time in her life. No one had ever treated her as a child before, and she hadn't known how willing she was to fall into the role. She hadn't known that there had been something wrong with her relationship with Mr. Henri until she began to live with Poe.

Together, they searched newspaper ads until they found a two bedroom flat in a good part of Ballic square near Small Bridge. Poe had no servants, or assistants to 'arrange' things for them. Everything had to be done together.

Not that his magic didn't make things astoundingly easy. It was sometimes as if he had several additional arms that were always moving and arranging things.

Lotte wondered if it was difficult to do, and he laughed at her question. "I am Leilan. It is all about force. It took a hundred years for me to learn to be gentle with force."

It wasn't just in the day to day tasks that was different because Lotte was involved. She could sense his concern, how he made an effort to understand her.

No one had ever attempted that. No one had patiently watched her. Had expected nothing of her but for her to be herself.

And he was also her teacher. She hadn't had a teacher since Mrs. Hummund had taught her letters.

Poe was thrilled to teach, as if the world could offer him any greater honour. He would get quite animated during their lessons, his eyes glowing red and the room growing dark.

Leilan happiness was odd.

"The first," Poe said. "We must learn the language of the alessi. It is called Mulda, which in Mulda means, simply, language. Mulda umani, language of humans. Mulda demani, language of demons. Not to be confused with demani mulda, which is language demons."

As Poe had predicted, Lotte learnt quickly, and soon, he gave up speaking the human tongue with her altogether. He sounded less like a blundering fool in Mulda.

Though sometimes the ideas he tried to convey in his own language went right over Lotte's head.

Lotte was happy, happier than she had ever been in her life. She didn't forget Mr. Henri, of course. He came to visit her every week, bringing cakes and newspaper clippings about her artwork moving up in the world.

It was as Wysley had predicted. Her death marked an ascent. Every painting she had drawn was worth sums with which she could buy entire islands.

She did suddenly notice that beyond her art, Mr. Henri had nothing to talk to her about. It wasn't like how, with Poe, they could sit and do nothing but talk about everything for hours.

"Look," Mr. Henri had once said, showing her the front page of that day's newspaper. "This is unbelievable. Remember that painting, Half, you called it? Of course you remember. It has sold for one billion daies."

A black and white photograph of the painting in question was right on the front page. It had gotten a spectacular ornamental frame. That particular painting had been special.

"That is a very large amount of currency," Poe exclaimed from the kitchen where he was preparing tea.

Money was a human concept difficult somewhat alien to Poe. "But who bought it?"

"King Cyaltan of Serades," Mr. Henri announced proudly.

A crash sounded from the kitchen, Poe had dropped the kettle. But he didn't give it even a second glance as he rushed towards them, snatching the paper from the table. "Has King Cyaltan ever bought human art before this?" Poe asked, visibly shaking.

"Yes," Mr. Henri said. "He is one of the biggest buyers in the world. I believe this will be his fourth Poppin."

Poe sighed in relief. "He does not know, then."

"About Poppin being..." Mr. Henri always had difficulty saying the word 'Lotte'.

"That too," Poe said putting down the paper. "Let us hope that sulsylnan did not accidentally enchant any of her paintings and if she did, that the Dragon King won't notice."

Lotte didn't hear about that painting afterwards, so she spared it no thought.