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Chapter 74

Lotte

There were no automobiles in Gelde. But Lotte would walk back to Walstad if she had to. It would take days. But she would make it eventually.

By my oath.

Benedict’s voice flashed in her mind suddenly.

Lotte whipped around, her eyes darting through the familiar hallways of the convent. It was as empty as it always was at night. No sign of Benedict. No sign of anyone.

But she was sure that she knew his voice.

Lotte closed her eyes. It was a strange thing, to be standing in the convent, not trying to push the voices away for once. Instead trying to draw them in.

“What are you doing here?”

It took Lotte a second to realize that the voice wasn’t in her mind.

Her eyes snapped open to see the girl standing in front of her. She looked both familiar and like a fading memory.

“Estelle.”

It had only been—well, Lotte had no idea how long it had been since she had been driven away, leaving Estelle in the square of Gelde. Standing here, Lotte felt like she had lived several lifetimes. But Estelle looked just the same. Except the stricken look on her face when Lotte had refused her a ride to Walstad had turned to fury now.

“You left without me,” Estelle accused. “You knew how much I wanted to go to Walstad. And you left me behind.” There was once a time when Lotte would have reached into Estelle’s mind, desperate to find the answer that Estelle wanted to hear.

“You were going to leave me behind,” Lotte replied instead. “You and Konrad and your plot to run away to the city together.”

Lotte realized her mistake the moment Estelle’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

Lotte had forgotten. In the city she had forgotten how afraid she had been in Gelde. Afraid every single day that Estelle would find out about her curse—her gift—it didn’t matter what she called it. Find out that everything in her friendship with Estelle was a lie. That she would find out that Lotte had craved her friendship, craved belonging so badly that she had stolen thoughts from Estelle’s mind over and over again.

Once, when they were children, a younger girl, Ada Reiss, had stayed up all night making cherry tarts because she had heard they were Estelle’s favorite. She had pretended they were for everyone in their small schoolhouse classroom. But Estelle had found out that Ada had stayed up all night just in hopes of impressing Estelle. No. She hadn’t found that out. Lotte had told her that. To keep her friendship from drifting over to Ada.

Estelle had scorned Ada in front of the whole class for trying to win popularity with her. For wanting anything so much that she would go to those lengths. Ada had cried as Estelle threw the cherry tarts on the ground. And Lotte remembered the sickening, terrified twist in her stomach imagining if Estelle ever found out how much Lotte wanted too.

Even now, all these years later, she felt shame curl her shoulders, aching to shield that desperate child she had been then. Lotte hated that part of herself. She hated that she was here in Gelde with it again.

In the city she had survived trolls and climbing brambles and yet she was most afraid of this. This had lived in her since she was a little girl. The lie that she had managed to belong somewhere, when all she had done every day was try and want and lie. And Lotte was sick with lying.

“I read your mind. I read your mind for years. Because I wanted to be your friend.” The truth came out all at once, like a long-dammed-up stream of words finally breaking free. “And then you were able to leave me behind so easily, I realized how little you cared about me. And it hurt me more than anyone has ever hurt me.” The words felt like exposing a raw nerve of vulnerability. She felt like little Ada holding out cherry tarts knowing Estelle would smash them on the ground. But she felt herself peeling off the last of Lotte, the girl who did things because she wanted to be liked. Because she wanted someone, anyone , to want her.

And underneath, Ottoline Holtzfall came fully into the light.

“And I left you here because I wanted to hurt you back.”

Lotte could already hear the scorn that was poised on Estelle’s tongue. She felt it twisting in her stomach. But the smile that crossed her face wasn’t Estelle’s. It was gentler than any expression she had ever seen on her face.

And in a blink, Estelle was gone, like an illusion vanished into thin air.

Lotte suddenly stood alone in the hallway of the convent, her heart racing in her ears.

She had seen magic over and over in Walstad, but here in Gelde, it seemed wilder and out of place. Lotte reached into the air, as if she might somehow find Estelle there, solid but invisible.

And in the faint light, she saw there was a wooden band on her ring finger.