12 
The world dissolved, but somehow Ottilie remembered to breathe. Something nudged her shoulder. A huff of hot breath – Nox had reached them. The thicket reassembled. Ottilie didn’t know if the squails were still squawking. Her head was crowded with an unworldly song.
She clutched Leo’s arm, pulling him closer. The bone necklace was supposed to make dredretches stop attacking. That was what Gracie had told her at Richter. She only hoped Leo’s proximity to her would keep him safe as well.
She blinked. The song hushed, sinking lower, mingling with her pulse. The squails stilled. Their squawking ceased, but they didn’t fly away. She looked higher – it seemed even the bloodbeast would not attack them now.
She felt Leo stir. They were both out of arrows. His eyes twitched open. He was white as salt. ‘What’s happening?’
Before Ottilie could explain, a voice spoke inside her head. ‘Tea?’
‘What?’ said Ottilie out loud.
‘Ott?’ Leo leaned away from her.
She grabbed him and muttered, ‘Stay close.’
‘What? Why?’
‘I would like you to join me for tea,’ said the voice, and this time Ottilie recognised the speaker.
‘Why would I do that?’ It was absurd.
‘Who are you talking to?’ said Leo, pulling away again.
Ottilie wrenched him back, her eyes darting up to the trees. The squails had stopped screeching, but they could still attack him with their deadly talons.
‘Because,’ said Whistler. ‘If you grace me with your presence … I will give you the goedl.’
Ottilie nearly jumped to her feet. ‘Bill? Why?’
‘The canyon caves. Tomorrow, at midnight. You know the spot. Come alone, and leave the old cat outside.’
‘Is he all right?’
‘Whistler!’
‘Ott!’ His eyes narrowed, Leo grabbed the necklace. Ottilie tried to pry his fingers open, but he held fast and began lifting it over her head.
‘No, Leo, stop! They’ll start again if you take it off me!’
He paused, but didn’t release his grip. ‘Why can Whistler talk in your head?’ he demanded.
‘Because of this,’ she said, her fingernails digging into his hand. ‘Just this! But I have to keep it on so we can get away.’
His nostrils flared. ‘No, I don’t like it!’
‘Then let’s get away from here and I can take it off!’ Ottilie moved towards Nox. ‘Stay close,’ she said, scanning the branches for any sign that the squails might attack.
In silence, they squeezed into Nox’s single saddle. The wingerslinks didn’t know what to make of dredretches that weren’t attacking. Tail flicking and ears flat to her skull, Nox slunk through the trees and Maestro walked tentatively behind. The squails watched them go but didn’t follow. Breaking the tree line, Ottilie didn’t dare take off the necklace. Behind them, the flock of squails spiralled out of the thicket and swept northward until they were just specks of dirt marring the perfect sky.
Leo was furious with Ottilie. She had never told him about the bone necklace; she didn’t really know why she still had it. She had planned to show it to Maeve, thinking it might be a useful weapon against dredretches. But she had never actually handed it over.
Did it really matter? Ottilie had no doubt that if she hadn’t used it yesterday afternoon, she and Leo would not have survived. That was the truth, and now Whistler was offering her a chance to get Bill back. Knowing that her friends would make a huge fuss, Ottilie had begged Leo not to tell anyone about it. He had lasted a day so far. But with everyone so busy, that didn’t mean much. Now it was raining, so all shifts beyond the boundary walls were cancelled. Most of her friends had the night off – and, as per the king’s orders, Captain Lyre had arranged a banquet in his honour. With nothing to do but talk and eat, Ottilie didn’t know what Leo might say.
Wet weather keeping them from the uncovered Moon Court, the huntsmen gathered instead in Fiory’s grandest hall. Ottilie had not been inside it since her first day at the fort. She still remembered Captain Lyre standing in front of the arched windows holding a birdcage aloft.
Tonight was uncommonly warm and windless. They had opened the windows, filling the room with the sound of falling rain. Ottilie was horrified to see that the bone singers had been dragged up from their cells and caged in the corner of the room. They sat, looking as dishevelled as ever, playing their instruments as the huntsmen feasted.
Gully was tense beside Ottilie, regarding the cages with narrowed eyes. ‘How can they expect us to have a party now’ – he nodded towards the bone singers – ‘like this?’
‘It’s all because of the king,’ said Ottilie. She noticed Captain Lyre’s face was lined and grim, but Conductor Edderfed was happily devouring a turkey leg as if there were no prisoners in the room. Wrangler Voilies and Director Yaist were growing steadily drunker and offering the king simpering smiles. Wrangler Furdles kept throwing his chicken bones through the bars, sniggering when he hit a bone singer, until Wrangler Morse moved to stand sentinel beside the cage.
‘Aren’t they afraid of them?’ Ottilie asked Skip, who was sitting nearby. ‘Don’t they think they’re witches or evil mystics or something?’
‘Iron manacles,’ said Skip.
Iron was supposed to block magic. It was why witches were buried in iron coffins.
Sure enough, Ottilie spotted Bonnie strumming a harp, her wrist bound with an iron chain attached to the cage. The soft music was interrupted here and there with the rattle and clank of their fetters. This was something the king found very amusing. He prowled past, leering in and smiling cruelly.
Two Arko huntsmen had been assigned as the king’s personal guards: Murphy Graves and Banjo Adler. Ottilie could tell they weren’t happy about it. The rumour was that Murphy and Banjo had accompanied the king to Fiory and impressed him when they dealt with a giffersnak that dropped onto the roof of the carriage. He had rewarded them by honouring them with the role.
The pair were standing by the drinks table talking to Bacon Skitter, and Ottilie noticed Gully’s eyes kept flicking to Murphy Graves.
‘You look at him a lot,’ she whispered, trying not to smile.
Gully’s eyes snapped to the ceiling. ‘No more than you look at Ned,’ he muttered, glancing sideways at her.
‘Can I talk to you?’ said Ned.
Ottilie jumped, turning to find him behind her, his brow furrowed. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Leo squeezing into a seat beside Preddy and immediately engaging him in conversation.
With a sigh, Ottilie followed Ned across the room. He stopped just out of earshot of a group of the new fledglings, who kept shooting uneasy glances at the cages. Ottilie couldn’t imagine how those fledges were feeling about this new life that had been forced upon them. It was a wonder there hadn’t been an escape attempt.
‘What were you thinking?’ said Ned, fixing his eyes on hers.
‘I have to go. She said she’d free Bill.’
‘Not about that. Of course you can’t do that – it’s obviously a trap and you know it. I’m talking about the necklace!’
‘What?’ She hadn’t been expecting this. She didn’t have her arguments lined up.
‘Leo said she can talk in your head when you wear it! Why would you keep that?’
‘Well, I don’t wear it! Only yesterday, and it saved me and Leo. I’m glad I kept it.’
Ned’s lips thinned. ‘You’ve got some nerve telling me I have to stop the dreams because Whistler’s making me have them, when you’ve been walking around with that thing in your pocket!’
‘I …’ He was right. Wait. No, he wasn’t. ‘I can control when I use it. It’s completely different to the dreams.’
‘Why would you even want to use it?’
‘Because it stops the dredretches attacking. It’s handy! I’m not getting rid of it. Especially not before I –’
‘That’s not up to you,’ she said, cringing as she realised they were the same words he had used when they’d argued about stopping his dreams.
Ottilie was painfully aware of how close he was standing. She had to look up to see his face properly. He was glaring at her, but she realised it wasn’t anger in his eyes. It was fear. Ned reached forwards, his fingers twitching as if he intended to take her hand – but he didn’t. Instead, he stepped back and walked away from her, right over to Gully.
What followed was the worst fight Ottilie had ever had in hushed tones. It was just Gully at first, then Skip and Preddy joined in, all three refusing to let her go to meet Whistler. Ned and Leo stayed back and she glared at them, furious that they had spread the word.
The adults in the room were growing louder and louder. Laughter boomed and cracked. Stories were told with shrieks and shouts. Men yelled over one another. Everything felt wrong. The bone singers’ music seemed to lag, as if time had slowed, and beneath it all Ottilie and her friends fought on.
Eventually she hissed, ‘Fine! I won’t go.’
‘You swear?’ said Gully.
Ottilie looked into his eyes and lied.