38.

37.
18 MONTHS BEFORE THE WAR

At fifteen, Lotte lived alone again. It was easy to settle into life at Sullivan Tower—remarkably easy.

She was alone, but wasn't lonely.

All Lottes were abandoned children in one way or another, she was no different.

Her little room became a shrine of the things that made her who she was. To get by, she sold small enchanted art pieces on street corners. She'd spread a woven rug and showcase her latest drawings with the price tags attached to the canvas or frames on pieces of twine. She made sure not to draw anything that would gain her fame or dub her a genius artist. Simple things for simple people who enjoyed some beauty in their homes.

If her drawings made them healthier, or luckier, or braver, that was chalked off as coincidence.

Her small paper talismans were quite popular with university students taking exams. There were those who swore by these talismans, claiming they made their minds sharper.

But not everybody wanted to buy things from 'that pale Lotte'. It was a time of brewing tensions in Raidox. More often than not, Lotte received sinister looks from those who passed by her rug.

It could've been easier, on the surface, to pretend to be human. But she had enough of that.

A pair of unusually polished shoes with golden buckles stopped by her rug on spring morning when she was well into the fifteenth year of her life.

Lotte looked up at the man in a scarlet suite with velvet lapels and a cream-coloured cravat. He tilted his hat at her, brown eyes twinkling.

She was about to jump to her feet, but was stopped when he crouched down.

"Mr. Henri..." Despite not wishing to, she felt a surge of excitement at seeing him again.

"It's good to see you..." He was, typical to him, looking at her works on display. He picked up a delicate floral design. A small drawing in a simple frame. It was an enchantment that made a pleasant smell in the room where it would be hung. The smell depended on each person's preference.

"Why're you here?" she asked.

"How much for this?"

"For you? Two daies," Lotte answered. Normally, she sold those for half a daie since they were only ten minutes of work and the small frames came cheap.

"My scouts mentioned you," Mr. Henri said. "Not worth my inspection, they said."

"They weren't wrong."

Mr. Henri shook his head. "They were very wrong. Even if you drew with your eyes closed, your works have more charm than all the artists I've known put together. It doesn't have to be complex or sophisticated to sing to the soul."

"That's only how you feel, Mr. Henri," Lotte said.

He looked up from the drawings and into her face. "You're angry, aren't you?"

It was the first time Mr. Henri had ever inquired after her emotions. "I'm not sure," she said. She busied herself by opening a paper bag and stuffing the drawing Mr. Henri bought into it, taping it shut with a sticker of a kitten.

"Honestly speaking, I didn't want to intrude on your life anymore," he said.

"To me it looked like moved on."

Mr. Henri heaved a sigh and suddenly, he was sitting next to her on the edge of her rug, but mostly, on the dirty pavement. "How could I move on when nothing compares to you?"

"I don't mind that you moved on," Lotte continued. "But I do wish you'd at least write, sometimes."

"Evelyn was such a disappointment," Mr. Henri continued. He wasn't really listening. That's just how he was. Oddly enough, they communicated better back when Lotte couldn't speak. "Granted, it wasn't easy for her. She had talent, but wasn't going to be a quick success. It required work. But the moment she met that Rondy and married him, that's it, she had no interest in drawing anymore."

"But isn't she happier that way?" Lotte asked.

"Why does it have to be one or the other?" Mr. Henri asked.

"You're one to speak. What does Mrs. Treebald do besides be your wife?"

Mr. Henri raised his eyebrows and then laughed. "Since when did you become this blunt?"

Lotte smiled broadly, but didn't say anything else. When she had been Poppin, she never smiled with her teeth.

"The hardest part about seeing you every time is not begging for you to return to be an artist."

She bowed her head into a nod. "I hated everything about it, except painting. That I loved. But I can still have that, as much as I want. Poppin is dead, Mr. Henri, and good riddance. I'm Lotte. If I can't be me, then I'd rather not be part of that world."

Mr. Henri bore her answer in silence. After a while, he asked, "Why did he leave you, that elf?"

"Why does anyone leave anyone? He didn't love me, or need me. He wasn't obligated to stay, either."

Mr. Henri shook his head, wrinkling his face. "I don't think that's it."

"Then what?"

"Maybe he got called away. There are...indications, that there's going to be a war..."

Lotte rolled her eyes. "Oh that." The rumours about wars between elves and humans had existed since the dawn of time, more or less. "Even if the Lord General begs the elves to fight him, they wouldn't bother. Humans just don't interest elves like elves interest humans."

"That's not what I heard."

When did Mr. Henri become such a gossip? Since he had come all the way to speak with her, and it seemed like this matter was quite pressing to him, she decided to humour him. "What did you hear?"
"I have close acquaintances from the Lord General's inner circle," Mr. Henri said, lowering his voice. "Apparently, the Lord General had a romance with an elven woman."

"That's ridiculous."

Mr. Henri pulled out a small brown envelope from the inner pocket of his jacket. He handed it to Lotte. It contained a few photographs. She recognised Luorn Fazergald, the Lord General and ruler of Agathara Republic from his portraits on the ten daie notes and that one time she had met him back when she was Poppin.

It was a photo taken from behind a curtain and he was sitting with a woman whose elven features were disguised, but Lotte could tell instantly she was Leilan. She wore a radiant smile. The next photo had been taken quite soon after the first. The Lord General and his elven companion turned their heads towards one another. In the next photo, their faces came closer, and the next was a kiss.

"This is dangerous to have. How did you get these? And why do you have them at all?"

Mr. Henri snatched them from her, stuffing them back into the envelope and into his jacket. "These photos have been going around for years. Maybe even before you were born, but the climate has recently changed. I wanted to warn you, Poppin," he said. "I think you need to leave the city. I can help you with that, of course."

"But what has this got to do with that?"

"That elf you saw," Mr. Henri continued. "She's called Jiummarnar and she serves as the elven ruler."

"The Talmil..." Lotte corrected. "She's not really a ruler. She doesn't have the same kind of power like the Lord General. It doesn't work like that."

"Whatever power she had, she's using it to its full extent. The Lord General attempted to kill her a few years back, but failed, and she wants revenge. There have been sightings of elven forests on human soil. Whatever the reason behind it, Poppin, it is happening."

***
PRESENT DAY

Just like Rowan said, the dragon king died at dawn. One moment the cobalt blue sky was tinged with rose and copper and the next it was empty white, like a snowy landscape.

A roar sounded from overhead, so loud Lotte had to cover her ears as the walls of the palace shook with strange vibrations. The noise and the white sky stopped just as soon as it began, but then, from outside, inside, from every direction, voices started crying.

Some wailed, some wept, others screamed.

Lotte curled in her room, unable to look away from the window lest the sky turn white again. But, when the morning ripened, a tray with breakfast was brought to her suite. It was the human servant from yesterday.

Lotte shut the door behind her. "Do you know of any prisoners—?"
The girl put her finger to her lips and shook her head. She pointed towards the door that led to the veranda and Lotte understood.

Without Maloru's natural protective magic, nothing could stop Monthes and Briaad from spying on them using sorcery.

Lotte nodded, accepting the breakfast which also contained a note.

The note informed her that she was invited to a private dinner in the name of the Dragon King tonight. She was instructed to wear grey, the colour of mourning in Serades.

Whatever this private dinner was, she was sure she had until tonight to find and free Poe. She didn't dare trust the fact that the palace was in enough of an uproar to overlook any large scale enchantments she would attempt.

She had to be stealthy and effective, but for that she needed supplies, real supplies.

There was only one place to find them.

Enchantress Yuralar was in her workshop, right where Lotte had met her last. She looked pale and stricken, sitting at her work desk with her head between her hands. It was an oddly human position for an elf. She glared up at Lotte when she approached.

"What're you doing here?"

"Do you know where they're keeping him?" Lotte demanded.
Yuralar's forehead wrinkled. Whatever she was expecting Lotte to say, it wasn't that. "Who?"

"Vanshu," Lotte replied.

"Why do you care about..." Yuralar's voice trailed away but her mouth remained open. "He made you? Vanshu?"

"He didn't make me. He's my Poe."

"Do you know how absurd that sounds? Do you even know who Vanshu is?"

"I didn't even know his name was Vanshu until last night," Lotte replied, crossing her arms. "So no, I don't know who he is."

"He is the Talmil's dion."

"Dion? I've never heard that word before."

"It's similar to what humans and virata call marriage," Yuralar said tersely. "Do you understand how ridiculous what you're saying is? How could the Talmil's dion be your papu?"

"He was my Poe not my papu. My father was human and..." Suddenly, all words left Lotte. Did Yuralar just say that Poe was married to the Talmil? The same Talmil who allegedly had an affair with a human?

No. She shot the thought down before it could get any further. Poe had said that her mother was dead and the Talmil was certainly alive.

But Poe had also said he couldn't lie, which was a lie.

So what was the truth? Maybe he was her father, or her mother was alive after all.

"What is it?" Yuralar asked. She was watching Lotte closely, suddenly not quite so hostile.

Lotte shook her head. "I have to find Vanshu. Please, can you—"

Yuralar shook her head. "Do you think I wouldn't have freed him long ago? Talmil is furious they have him here, but she doesn't have the resources to rescue him."

"You're a Lasuran elf?"

"All enchanters belong to the Talmil."

Right, right, Poe had told her that. Poe too had belonged to the Talmil. Was that why he had to leave Lotte the way he did? And perhaps that was why he had insisted that Lotte never have a name.

"I have to find him," Lotte said. "And you need to hide what I'm doing from them."

Yuralar frowned.

"You can't tell her what you know either," Lotte continued.

"Tell who?"

"The Talmil. If you know how angry she is over him being here, then she must have a way to talk to you. She can't know who Vanshu is to me."

"Why should I protect Vanshu's secrets? Especially when training you as an enchantress is much worse than merely creating you."

Lotte's hands curled into fists. She suddenly remembered what she had told Maloru so many days ago about the reason the elves won't accept him back. Could she have been so wrong about the Yomi? "I see. That's why you're here," Lotte said. "You're a Yomi who acts like a Leilan."

Yuralar had a physical reaction to her words. She jerked back, eyebrows furrowing, shading her gaze. "No, I'm just a grumpy old woman. Of course I wouldn't say anything about Vanshu. That would get him killed..."

"Maloru, my friend, was like that at first when I met him..."

"The one who came with you? You know he's in danger too."

Lotte's heart clenched. She missed Maloru already. "That's why I sent him away."

Something in Yuralar's face softened. She heaved a sigh. "You think you're able to locate Vanshu, Lotte?"

"If I'm as powerful as they believe," Lotte said. "I can do more than locate him."

Yuralar gave a single nod of her head. "Then I'll shield your enchantments. But be warned, they already know you've come here. It's only a matter of time before they'll try to stop whatever you're doing."

Lotte rolled up her sleeves, eying the jars lining the walls over Yuralar's work table. She recognised a lot of these inks and there was everything she needed, right here before her. "Then there's no time to lose."

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