9 
‘I’ve had it!’ said Skip, flopping onto Ottilie’s bed.
The custodians hadn’t been invited to the meeting but Ottilie had filled Skip in later that night.
‘What happened when that wyler got in? It went straight for us,’ said Skip. ‘We’re defenceless because they won’t let us defend ourselves!’
‘I know.’ Ottilie had been thinking about it too. There were hundreds of girls in the Narroway, tucked behind high walls with monsters beyond them. ‘Everyone should be allowed to learn to fight them. Has anyone ever … I mean, besides what happened with me – has anyone ever asked?’
Skip scowled and crawled further up the bed. ‘I asked the custodian chieftess once, when I was much younger. She took the rod to the back of my hand for my insolence.’
Once, that might have surprised Ottilie, but after being locked in the burrows and put on trial in front of the directorate, she understood how dangerous disrupting the Hunt’s rules could be.
‘But what about Wrangler Ritgrivvian?’ said Ottilie. ‘They let her be a wrangler. Why is it different?’
‘They let her be a wrangler because there’s no-one better. I’ve heard she used to work for the king,’ said Skip. ‘But she had to claw her way up. She doesn’t talk about it much – makes sense.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Something went wrong,’ Skip said, as if it were obvious. ‘I don’t know what, but I’d say that’s how she ended up here.’ Ottilie’s confusion must have shown on her face because Skip added, ‘You know … the eyepatch …’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘What about it?’ Ottilie had just assumed that Wrangler Ritgrivvian was missing an eye, like Wrangler Furdles.
‘It’s crocodile skin, didn’t you notice?’
She hadn’t noticed, and she didn’t understand the significance anyway.
‘When an eyepatch is made of crocodile skin it means negligence,’ explained Skip, cupping a hand over her eye. ‘It’s a punishment – supposed to humiliate. It’s mostly for servants when something gets lost or broken, or someone under their care gets hurt. The length of time they have to wear it depends on how bad it was, and if it was really bad they take the eye too, and they have to wear the patch forever. I don’t know what happened with Ramona, but she’s been wearing that patch as long as I’ve been here.’
Ottilie had never heard about this. But, of course, no-one around the Brakkerswamp, where Ottilie grew up, had servants to punish. She wondered what had happened. Negligent wasn’t a word she would have associated with the horse mistress.
‘I’ve never asked her about it,’ said Skip. ‘It’s not something you can just bring up.’
They were getting distracted. Whether Ramona Ritgrivvian had a right eye didn’t matter. What mattered was convincing the Hunt to train girls.
‘We need to ask again,’ said Ottilie. ‘Properly.’
Skip leapt off the bed, her face glowing. ‘You’ll help? You’ll ask them?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘They may not take it well. We could get into a lot of trouble.’
Skip was right, it was dangerous. Many would say she was making trouble. Voilies would lash out, and some others of higher rank would too. She remembered the sallow-faced Director Yaist, the one member of the directorate who had voted that death be considered a punishment for her deception. He might even use it as an excuse to reopen that debate, to get rid of her once and for all.
But it was worth it. Things were clearer to her now. She couldn’t let the fear of being cast out stop her from doing what was right. If she didn’t do this, who would?
‘People died,’ she said firmly. ‘Every girl in that room could have died. If there was ever a time to ask, it’s now.’
They needed support. Although Ottilie was in a better position than Skip to ask the directorate, she was still just a fledgling, ranked in the bottom third, and considered by most a blot on the ranking wall. They would have to write their request and have it signed by as many elites as they could get. Surely after everything, Leo would help with this. A champion’s support would have to make them consider it.
Ottilie was too wound up to sleep. She wanted to talk to her friends. Scoot’s room was right next to hers, so he was her first stop. She knocked softly on his door.
‘Who is it?’ he called.
‘It’s Ottilie,’ she whispered through the wood.
There was no response. Ottilie knocked again, a little louder.
He ignored her.
She frowned, feeling worried. Conductor Edderfed’s speech had distracted her. She had forgotten that strange moment when Scoot hadn’t saved her a seat. It was a small thing, but here, standing outside his door with silence from within, she felt the weight of it grow.
Invitation be damned – she tried the door, but it was bolted from the inside.
‘Scoot, let me in!’ she hissed.
‘I’m sleeping.’
Even through the door she could hear the sullenness in his voice.
‘I’m not going away. Let me in!’ She rattled the latch. She heard the weight of his steps and the scrape of the bolt. The door flew open and Scoot stood there in his pale green nightclothes, glaring.
Ottilie shoved him aside and marched into the room. ‘What is the matter with you?’
Scoot thrust the door shut and said nothing. He just stood there, jaw ticking and fingers twitching.
‘Why are you mad at me?’ she said, unable to hide the hurt.
‘Because,’ he said in a half-whisper.
‘Because what?’
‘Because you think you’re too good for us!’ he burst out.
‘What?’ Ottilie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was one of the lowest-ranked fledges in the Narroway, and arguably the least popular person in Fort Fiory.
‘You do!’ said Scoot. ‘You’re never around anymore. You’re always with the elites.’
‘What elites?’
‘Leo and Ned. We’re not good enough for you,’ said Scoot, turning away from her.
‘I am not … I don’t –’
‘You’re always with Leo!’
Ottilie moved around the room to face him, determined that he listen to her. ‘Leo’s my guardian. I have shifts with him nearly every day. You’re with Bayo all the time too!’
Scoot still didn’t look at her. ‘I hunt with him, that’s all. Same as Gully with Ned. He’s still around … he’s still our friend first!’
Ottilie was shaking with frustration. ‘So am I! You’re being stupid, Scoot. You just see Gully more because he’s with the footmen too, so you do all the same training!’ She took a step towards him, noticing a nasty set of puncture wounds high on his shoulder. ‘Scoot, what’s –’ She reached out, but he jerked away.
‘Fanged pobe got me, weeks ago!’ he spat. ‘You would know that if I ever saw you.’
Ottilie felt close to tears. ‘That’s not fair, your day clothes don’t show –’
‘Leo’s the one who told them you’re a girl! And you just forgave him straight away. You don’t care about … about everything he did.’ Scoot started pacing back and forth, his shoulders hunched so far forward it took inches off his height.
‘I didn’t just forgive him straight away.’ Her hurt twisted into anger. ‘And that’s none of your business!’
‘He doesn’t even like you … he thinks you’re useless. Preddy told me, when he was his guardian and you were a shovelie, Leo said heaps of nasty stuff about you.’
‘Stop it, Scoot!’ It was like a punch in the gut. Though she wasn’t overly surprised: Leo had said awful things to her face. She had expected him to say them behind her back as well.
‘You’re being pathetic,’ said Scoot. ‘You just follow him around … you’re like a lovesick whelp.’
She let out a bark of derisive laughter. ‘I am not lovesick, and I do not follow him around.’
‘You are and you do!’ He was still pacing, moving further and further away from her. ‘Everyone can see it.’ He turned his back.
Ottilie clenched her fists. ‘You wouldn’t be saying that if you still thought I was a boy. I’m acting exactly the same.’ With that, she stormed from the room, slamming his door behind her.