8 
It was night by the time Ottilie left the infirmary. Leo had gone up to dinner, but she couldn’t face noise and people and food. There were new questions. She had to ask Alba and Maeve about the white stone, and no doubt face an answer that plunged her into panic once more. She had just wanted to sit still a little longer. Alone with Scoot, with nothing moving, frozen in time with him.
When she did eventually leave, Ottilie took a detour. Weaving through the dark lavender fields, she came to the healers’ herb garden. It smelled of wild roses and lemon thyme, like soft smiles and the beginning of things.
Holding her pocket vial aloft, she searched for the familiar feathery flowers and found a pale-blue vine snaking up the stone fence. Then, cuttings in hand, she made for Ned’s bedchamber.
Ottilie paced back and forth outside the door. It was such a simple thing. Nothing to be nervous about – just some flowers to bring good dreams. Finally, shakily, she knocked.
No-one answered, but the doorway was leaking light, so she knew he was inside. Steeling herself, she said, ‘Ned? It’s Ottilie.’
There were footsteps, and some other sound – a clattering, like scattered shells – and then the door slid open.
Ned didn’t smile at her. She felt her face tense as she realised this might be the first time he had not greeted her with a smile. But there was no time to dwell on it, because a long, dark nose emerged and started snuffling up and down her legs. Ottilie nearly jumped. The shepherd withdrew and growled in a way that seemed more an expression of displeasure than a threat. She knew that growl. The dog could smell Nox’s scent on her.
‘There’s a shepherd up here ...’ she said, voicing her thoughts aloud. Ottilie recognised him from the night she had found Ned in Floodwood. He was a young, lanky thing, like an overgrown pup. His black fur had a blueish tinge and strange patches of white that she hadn’t seen on many of the shepherds.
‘He won’t stop following me,’ said Ned, warmth creasing his eyes. ‘He just showed up at my door the other day. The shepherds don’t normally try to get inside – I guess no-one thought to stop him. He sleeps here now.’
The shepherd was still growling.
‘Penguin. Enough.’
Ottilie nearly laughed. ‘Penguin?’
Ned flashed a quick smile, and a knot loosened somewhere inside her.
‘The colours,’ he explained. ‘Reminds me of the fairy penguins back home. He answers to Pen too.’ He looked down at the shepherd fondly. ‘Fast learner.’
‘Will they let you keep him up here?’
He shrugged. ‘See what happens.’
Silence fell and, not for the first time, Ottilie wondered at the freedom these boys had. She would never have risked keeping a shepherd in her room. Who knew what sort of trouble she would be in if she was found out?
Ned’s gaze caught the lullaby cuttings in her hand, and Ottilie suddenly felt very foolish.
‘It’s for your sleep,’ she said quickly, stumbling over the words. ‘To help stop – well, I don’t know if it actually – to bring … I mean, it’s supposed to bring good dreams. I thought it might help.’ The heat rose to her face and she longed to turn and run in the opposite direction. A memory surfaced: Skip saying something about boys only getting flowers if they were dying or if someone wanted to marry them. Ottilie cringed inwardly and wished she could sink into the floor.
Ned’s eyes flicked back up to hers, and her thoughts stopped flailing long enough to notice how gravely tired he looked. She had to stop being so sensitive. This wasn’t about her.
His reactions delayed, Ned’s face lifted a little. ‘Thank you.’
She held out the cuttings, but he didn’t take them.
‘It might not do anything,’ she prattled on. ‘But it’s something … until Maeve works out a proper cure.’
Ned took a step back, shaking his head. He hadn’t invited her in, but she didn’t want to have this conversation where they could be overheard, so she stepped into the room and shut the door behind her anyway.
‘Why are you shaking your head?’
Ned sat down on the end of his bed. ‘I don’t want to stop the dreams.’
‘What?’ She was suddenly fearful. ‘But your arm, and the sleepwal–’
‘I know. But the dreams are trying to show me something important. I can feel it, and I want to know what it is.’
‘It’s too dangerous.’ She glanced at his arm. ‘You have to stop it.’
‘It’s not really up to you.’
‘I know that.’
‘Do you?’
Her face heated again. It was true, she had taken charge the other night, but Ned had been shaken and in pain … someone had to. She realised he hadn’t actually agreed when she’d asked Maeve to look into stopping his dreams.
‘But Whistler is the one who did that to you. If the dreams are trying to show you something, it’s coming from her.’
Ned looked up at her, his brow creasing. ‘Ottilie, I know everything you know.’
Her eyes narrowed. Was it really him resisting this? Or was it Whistler’s influence?
He read the look on her face. ‘This is why it’s so hard to say. You don’t trust me, because of this.’ He gestured to his arm. ‘I’m not bound. It’s not like Gracie … or anything else. I’m in my right mind. Well, mostly. It’s just lack of sleep.’
Ottilie wanted to rush forward and peer into his eyes, search for any hint that his decisions weren’t his own. It wasn’t just for his sake. If he was some sort of spy, or if his dreams were some weapon Whistler could use to harm them all, if it was a key part of whatever terrible scheme she was cooking up, then it wasn’t just his business, it was hers, too – all of theirs. Her hand clenched around the lullaby cuttings and the stems wilted in her grip. Had Skip been right? Did they need to watch Ned?
He was tracking her expressions and she felt guilty. She didn’t know what to say. He, too, seemed lost for words. There was something missing from his face. There was no twinkle, no glimmer of laughter. He was really worried that she didn’t trust him. The terrible thing was that now, after this, she wasn’t sure she did.
Ottilie tried to smile, or nod, or offer some gesture of goodbye, because she seemed to have forgotten how to say anything other than ‘don’t be stupid’ or ‘you have to stop the dreams’. Ned turned away and looked out the window and Ottilie took the opportunity to depart.