Undercover Princess

by Connie Glynn

  ‘Well, I guess he’s not in,’ she said, banging on the door again for good measure.

  Lottie looked down in defeat. Their plan had seemed so simple and easy. She’d never considered the headmaster wouldn’t be in.

  She sighed. ‘I guess we’ll have to try again some other time.’

  Ellie let out a single sarcastic laugh as she leaned on the entrance, completely disrespecting the authority of the door. ‘Or we could just sneak in and take a look for ourselves. I’m sure that’s what the Vixen would have wanted,’ she said with a cocky grin.

  ‘Ellie, we can’t. That’s too –’

  But before she could finish, Ellie had turned the metal handle and pushed the heavy double door open like it was no big deal at all.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  This was definitely not ‘perfect princess’ behaviour, but she didn’t stop herself following Ellie.

  The headmaster’s office was not what Lottie had expected. When she imagined this central point of the school – the room that held the most power and authority – large looming furniture and opulent ornamentation came to mind. Instead she found a quaint hexagonal room with a modest mahogany desk in the centre and piles of papers and books covering every inch of floor space. It almost seemed as if the room contained every document and book ever accumulated in the four hundred years that Rosewood Hall had existed. But there was one thing in the room that stood out: a gargantuan, gold-framed painting that peered down over the room with all-seeing eyes.

  William Tufty.

  ‘He’s almost as messy as me,’ Ellie said, giggling, sidestepping a pile of red books in an attempt to get closer to the painting. Lottie would have laughed, but she found herself completely mesmerized by Tufty’s gaze. He sat within the painting, little half-moon glasses on the bridge of his nose, eyes staring down at her. There was a glimmer of thoughtfulness in his expression that the painter had perfectly captured in the soft way his lips turned up at the edges. His hands were clasped in his lap holding a small, circular mirror with a murky reflection of him. His delicate frame was a stark contrast to the vastness of the main hall in the background. Lottie narrowed her eyes at this depiction of William Tufty, at the way he looked out at them with a knowing smile.

  The Vixen and the Delicate Mouse.

  What did Binah want them to know? Lottie was about to articulate her feelings when a gruff male voice behind them said, ‘He’s quite fantastic, isn’t he?’

  Both girls almost jumped out of their skin. Headmaster Croak stood by the door, one hand planted firmly on a simple wooden cane.

  ‘Headmaster Croak … we’re so sorry … we …’ Lottie trailed off, suddenly unable to speak. You’re going to get expelled, a nasty voice inside her head whispered, a voice that for some reason sounded horribly like her stepmother. She looked at Ellie, who was also frozen. Lottie knew that getting in trouble would be far worse for her. She tried again. ‘We were just waiting for you to –’

  The headmaster laughed, a throaty guffaw. ‘Oh hush! You think you’re the first students to ever be wooed by the siren call of Sir William Tufty?’ He let out a soft chuckle as he took a shaky step into the office. ‘I had your friend Miss Binah Fae in here gazing up with that same look not more than a month into her first year at Rosewood.’ Lottie felt a strange sense of comfort in this, that Binah had been caught too – and that thought quashed the voice of her stepmother.

  ‘Sorry,’ said the two girls in unison.

  The headmaster smiled again. Then he turned to the painting, his face turning pensive as he gazed at the founder of the school. ‘He was a very wise and extremely reserved man.’

  Lottie regarded the patient face of William Tufty. There was something there, something she couldn’t quite place.

  ‘I’ve heard he was a kind man,’ the headmaster said, turning to Ellie and Lottie and smiling. His face was wrinkled, covered in lines of experience and emotion. He tapped his cane thoughtfully before continuing. ‘But his greatest attribute was his ability to be quiet.’ Croak laughed to himself and Ellie cocked an eyebrow at Lottie, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. ‘Sometimes the world can get very loud and people can get caught up trying to get their own voice heard and they end up silencing those that really need the space to speak. William understood this, and he used his position in the world to give others the chance to speak.’ He turned his eyes to his weathered hands. ‘I try my best to emulate that about him.’

  Lottie wasn’t sure why but this information resonated with her. She looked up at the painting again.

  Hide-and-seek.

  The frame around Tufty’s image. She knew there was something there.

  Every day they’d play a game … she hid inside the painting frames.

  ‘And I hope I can be wise like he was, and give quiet to those that need it.’

  Wise and quiet.

  Lottie stared into the eyes of the man in the painting, then at Ellie, the girl living a dual life, secretly hiding in the guise of Ellie Wolf.

  The Vixen and the Delicate Mouse. An explosive feeling erupted in her chest, a feeling like a distant memory crystallizing in her mind and she asked herself, If William is the Delicate Mouse, then who is the Vixen? Lottie looked up at the painting again and finally saw it.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said calmly.

  The headmaster smiled at her, giving the signal that they were dismissed.

  She gave Ellie a meaningful look, letting her know she’d figured out something important.

  They walked down the stairs and out of the main building, pulling on their big coats and scarves. Ellie looked at Lottie but could see she was thinking very hard about something and, remembering the headmaster’s words, gave her the silence she needed.

  Once they were heading towards the Ivy dorm, Lottie paused – and Ellie paused too.

  ‘I think …’ Lottie lifted her fingers to her lips, not just in thought but as if conjuring a memory. ‘I think William Tufty might not have been born who he became.’ Ellie’s face cocked to the side inquisitively. ‘I mean,’ Lottie continued, ‘I think he was born a woman.’

  ‘What?’ Ellie asked in confusion. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Do you know The Arnolfini Portrait?’ asked Lottie.

  Ellie shook her head.

  ‘Well, in it, the artist hid himself in the background, in a mirror. Mirrors in art can symbolize many things, but they’re most often associated with women, truth and, of course, reflection. I could tell there was something slightly off about Tufty’s painting, and then I realized. The entire painting is reflected in the tiny mirror in Tufty’s hand, all exactly the same, except one crucial detail. Tufty is painted as a fox.’ Ellie’s eyes widened. It was such an easy detail to miss if you weren’t actively looking for it. You might just think it was a blurry image. ‘The Vixen and the Delicate Mouse – they’re both him; that’s what the painting and the rhyme are saying.’ She looked at Ellie in excitement. ‘Whoever or whatever they were born as, they hid themselves as William Tufty, and that’s who they were happiest being.’

  ‘He’s a little like me then,’ Ellie breathed, her gaze distant.

  Lottie nodded. ‘I wonder who they were,’ she wondered out loud.

  ‘I don’t know if it matters,’ Ellie replied, a small melancholy smile on her lips. ‘They were who they were and we should respect that.’

  Lottie nodded again. If they were meant to find out Tufty’s identity, she was sure they would one day.

  Ellie’s face went blank and then a look of comprehension crept into her eyes. Lottie suddenly knew what she was thinking.

  Binah knows.

  29

  Lottie saw little of Jamie and Ellie over the next few days. She used all her time to study for their exams while Ellie focused on training for her fencing try-outs – both of which forced them to put Binah’s puzzle and the revelation about Tufty out of their minds. For now there were more important things that they needed to think about.
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  The Rosewood Hall fencing team was one of the most highly regarded in the world, not simply because it had produced numerous Olympians but also because it was believed that joining the team would cast a spell on you. It was a centuries-old superstition that ordained you would be destined to be adored. Lottie had a feeling it was because the requirements of the team probably meant you were pretty cool already, but it was still a fun story.

  One evening the tiered benches were packed with students of all three houses, yellow, red and purple, elegantly dotted among the stalls. Today they would be picking five Year Ten students who would be allowed to choose fencing as their option for the rest of their school years. Lottie envied anyone who’d picked an extracurricular class already. She’d only glanced at the list and found it horribly overwhelming.

  Antiques; archaeology; astronomy; badminton; canoeing; cheese appreciation; choir; classical studies; clay pigeon shooting; coding; debating; engineering; equestrian training; events planning; fencing; figure skating; film-making and theory; fine art (introduction to); fine dining; French; garden design; German; high fashion and design; horticulture; Japanese; jewellery making; kick-boxing; Latin (introduction to); law (introduction to); Mandarin; orchestra; Patisserie craft; philosophy; photography; poetry; sculpture; swimming (lane); swimming (synchronized); tea appreciation; tennis; theatre (drama); theatre (light and sound); theatre (set design); wrestling …

  The list seemed to go on forever and Lottie still had no idea what she should want to do. Lottie was feeling particularly rundown that evening. She’d got used to being permanently tired but today it seemed no matter how much coffee she drank she couldn’t push the dizziness from her head. She was trying her best to hide this from her friends but found it difficult when they were all so close to her. Jamie and Raphael were sitting to her right, leaning close to each other, talking in their usual hushed tones. Saskia was sitting a few stalls above with some girls from her year, but she quickly came to say hi upon spotting Lottie.

  ‘I was hoping to find Ellie before the try-outs and wish her good luck.’ Saskia looked around as if hoping she might spot Ellie. A perfect head of year, Lottie thought begrudgingly, then quickly reminded herself that that wasn’t a very ‘kind’ thought for someone who was taking time out of their week to tutor her.

  ‘Thank you, Saskia. I’ll let her know when I see her.’

  Saskia smiled at her before running back to join the girls in her year, and Lottie turned to take a seat with the others. Lola and Micky were scoffing a giant bag of pick-and-mix on her left; it was truly a wonder how they remained so small with the amount of sweets they consumed. The only person missing was –

  ‘I wonder if they’ll spar with a foil, épée or sabre?’

  ‘Hello, Binah,’ the group said in unison.

  Lottie had become accustomed to her ability to appear out of nowhere, not even flinching when her voice miraculously chimed behind her. Lottie and Ellie both felt a little different around Binah now, not knowing how much she actually knew about the princess and the Portman situation, and knowing that they couldn’t really ask her.

  ‘Good evening, my fellow spectators!’ Binah took a seat between Lottie and Lola. Her hair was up in two massive puffs on each side of her head, which somehow gave the impression of puppy ears. Lola wordlessly held out a yellow sweet that Binah popped in her mouth. She readjusted her glasses, causing the light to reflect off the lenses, obscuring her eyes. ‘Lottie!’

  Please don’t mention the princess thing, please don’t mention the princess thing.

  Jamie squinted at Lottie and she held her breath, worrying that he could read her mind.

  Binah simply smiled at her and pulled out a wispy-patterned green box from her bag. ‘I got this for you; I thought you might need it.’

  Lottie read the words on the top of the lid:

  SLEEPY-TIME TEA: TO COMBAT STRESS

  AND HELP YOU SLUMBER

  Lottie blinked at the box for a moment. Oh, come on! Does everyone in the school know I’m not sleeping? On second thoughts Lottie realized that it was silly to think there was anything Binah didn’t know.

  ‘Thank you, Binah … I’ll give it a go.’ She smiled back at her with as much positivity as she could, desperately trying not to let on to how tired she really was. Binah gave her a soft look and gently rubbed her arm as if she could sense that Lottie was putting up a brave front.

  ‘Sometimes the gifts people give us can help in more ways than we expect.’ She winked and Lottie was sure she heard a little twinkle in the air as she did so.

  How could sleepy-time tea possibly help her in other ways?

  She began to rack her brain, knowing now that Binah’s riddles were not to be taken lightly, but was quickly jolted back into the world when a horn blared out. It was time.

  Dame Bolter stepped forward, effortlessly capturing the attention of the hall with her fierce authority. She was accompanied by a young man with fluffy brown ringlets, who stood a few steps back; Lottie instantly recognized him as the Year Thirteen fencing captain and head of Conch House, Jacob Zee. He was a big name at Rosewood to say the least and he was definitely ‘adored’. Their vibes were comically different: Dame Bolter a scorching blaze and Jacob a soft, delicate brook. It was hard to believe they were from the same house.

  ‘Good evening, students of Rosewood.’ Dame Bolter’s voice boomed through the gymnasium, effortlessly intimidating as usual. ‘Tonight marks our three hundredth anniversary of the fencing trials. Today we will pick five students from Year Ten who will be honoured with an invitation to join the Rosewood Hall fencing team next year.’ She paused for a moment to take in the room and Lottie was sure her eyes lingered for an extra second on her. ‘This is a grand turnout tonight and I expect the utmost respect from your spectatorship.’ She turned to Jacob. ‘Any words of encouragement for our young hopefuls?’ He smiled brightly at her before bowing ever so slightly in respect, an act so subtle Lottie almost missed it. Lottie heard a few coos and titters as Jacob stepped forward, the same reaction she was used to hearing whenever Jamie entered a room.

  ‘Today is not about winning your fights; it’s about showing the most potential. There’s some wonderful promise here tonight and I’m only sad that I won’t get to lead you next year after I graduate. Good luck, everyone.’ He directed his happy smile at the line of prospective fencing hopefuls.

  It was impossible to tell which ones were Ellie and Anastacia. These was a line of twenty almost identical statues, their faces covered by mesh masks and bodies shielded by matching white uniforms. They were completely void of gender or personhood, transformed into a group of robotic dancers. One of them broke off from the group and flexed their muscles before turning to the others and shouting, ‘BRING IT ON, LOSERS!’

  Yep, that’s Ellie.

  Lottie turned to see Jamie cover his face with his palm and she had to stifle a giggle. A loud boom of laughter could be heard from the left side of the hall. It was Professor Devine, who leaned against the wall of the gymnasium, her presence somehow outshining the spectacular marble statues on either side of the giant door. Lottie gulped; she’d had no idea the professor would be attending and suddenly felt a thousand times more nervous for Ellie, even though Ellie didn’t appear to be nervous at all.

  The first match began. Two of the white-clad androids walked up to what Lottie had decided to call the ‘stage’ as the whole thing seemed so intensely theatrical. They bowed to each other before beginning and that was about all Lottie could keep up with. As soon as the match began, their swords were moving too fast for her to follow, a blur of white and silver elegantly parrying one another. It became clear that the person on the right was the one to watch; they moved with such lightning speed that their opponent could barely get a single strike against a barrage of unstoppable hits. She looked over to see Jamie and Raphael watching the match with squinted eyes, then back at Saskia, who winked.

  Binah was grinning broadly. ‘I wonder who that could b
e …’

  The next match began, then the next, and Lottie found that she was being lulled by the movements, mesmerized by each feint and attack. She’d lost track again of which one was Ellie. The only one Lottie was aware of was the unbeatable person from the first match. She wished she understood more about the sport so she could know for certain who was doing the best, but she was worried that if she asked anyone they’d think it was odd for her not to know, so she kept her mouth shut and allowed herself to be hypnotized by the strange dance.

  Dame Bolter called for the final match and the unbeatable person walked up to the stage to take on the other strongest competitor. The tension in the room seemed to triple as the two faced each other and the intensity emanating from the two duellers was palpable. This match felt different to the others. The two bowed and the atmosphere seemed to light up with prickly electricity. And then it began.

  Their swords moved in furious flashes, the two fighters darting and lunging with such intricate precision that they seemed more like deadly ballet dancers than fifteen-year-old students. This time it was impossible to tell who was on top; when one forced the other to retreat, they effortlessly disengaged and brought the fight back to the centre until the other took over again. They twirled and twisted, bodies consistently taut, two relentless forces persistently attacking and feinting in a barrage of complex tricks. Lottie tried to keep focused, but her mind kept slipping. It felt as though with each clash of their swords a strange dark feeling filled Lottie’s head, making her thoughts turn cloudy and confused.

  And then it was over. In her haze, Lottie couldn’t tell who had won.

  The two duellers walked up to each other and began to remove their masks. The whole audience collectively held their breath. The unbeatable fighter pulled hers off and a cascade of luscious chestnut hair came loose. Lottie gasped at the sight of Anastacia, elegantly shaking out her hair. Standing there in her white gear, sword by her side, she looked ferocious and forthright enough to take on a whole army. Those in the audience wearing red began cheering wildly.