17 
The custodians were quiet. Even those who’d had nothing to do with the petition kept their heads down and their mouths shut. Ottilie spotted bandaged hands and bruised cheeks. Any signs of behaviour that the Hunt deemed inappropriate – questions, spirited talk, gathering in groups – were met with punishment. Penalties ranged from scolding and skipped meals to … well … Ottilie had heard threats about locking ‘malefactors’ in the burrows, but she was not sure if anyone was following through.
‘Why aren’t they punishing us?’ asked Scoot, as he and Ottilie left the dining room.
‘Because they’re too scared,’ she said. ‘They need us – the huntsmen.’ She remembered the look Voilies had given her when they were called in for reprimanding. He wanted her gone. She knew that. But, for now, her connections were keeping her safe. Gully, the Hunt’s star fledgling, was her brother. Ned and five other elites had signed the same petition, and Leo, their only champion, was her guardian. He had turned on her before, but he was the one who had begged her back into the fold. They probably didn’t trust that he would betray her again – but of course, his name hadn’t been on the petition. That wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Ottilie knew she would have to watch her back.
Her interactions with Leo since the business with the petition had been chilly at best. She hadn’t raised the topic because she was furious with him and didn’t think she could stomach an ‘I told you so’.
Leo, to her surprise, was sensible enough not to bring it up. He was simply pretending nothing had happened, meeting her frostiness with smiles, which only made her angrier. If he had signed, it might have made all the difference! Now it was too late, and they would never know.
Scoot was in the middle of a sentence that Ottilie wasn’t paying attention to, when someone grabbed her arm and wrenched her sideways, pulling her into an empty broom cupboard.
‘Ottilie!’ Scoot hammered on the door.
Her heart thundered, the tight space pressing in.
A dim lantern rested on an empty shelf and in the amber light Ottilie saw Maeve, pulling hard on the inside of the door to keep Scoot from opening it.
Strangely, Ottilie’s breathing eased, and she found herself feeling more curious than afraid. What was this, another prank? Was Maeve trying to frighten her?
‘Get him to shut up,’ Maeve hissed.
‘Well, let me out, then.’
Maeve didn’t budge.
‘Or at least let him in!’ she snapped.
‘Fine.’ Maeve kicked the door open, sending Scoot sprawling.
Ottilie felt a great tug towards the wide, highceilinged corridor beyond, but her curiosity kept her captive.
‘Get in, quick,’ said Maeve.
Scoot got to his feet, his jaw jutting out. ‘What the –’
‘Just get in,’ said Maeve sharply.
‘Fine … fine …’ Scoot threw up his arms and entered the cupboard. ‘Crazy,’ he muttered.
Ottilie looked Maeve up and down. She looked so dreadful that, despite everything, Ottilie couldn’t help but feel concerned for her. She leaned closer, intending to ask what Maeve wanted, but the words came out differently. ‘Are you all right?’
It might have been the fractured light, but Maeve’s cheeks seemed hollower than Ottilie remembered and there were scrapes and cuts all up her arms. She found herself thinking of Gracie, and the girl who had jumped from the tree. She might not be the hooded witch, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of doing someone harm.
Scoot grabbed Maeve’s arm and twisted it to the light. ‘Did they do this to you?’
Maeve shook her head.
‘Did Gracie?’ said Ottilie, quietly.
Maeve tugged her arm back. ‘What? No! Are you crazy?’
‘We’re not the ones pulling people into cupboards,’ said Scoot.
‘I just wanted to talk to you.’
‘In a cupboard?’ said Scoot.
‘Yes, in a cupboard. It’s not safe to talk out there, not to her.’ She nodded at Ottilie with narrowed eyes. ‘They’re watching us, all of us that signed, but particularly you.’
Ottilie had guessed as much.
‘I want to know what we’re doing,’ said Maeve, desperation thinning her voice.
Scoot snorted. ‘We’re standing in a cupbo–’
‘What’s the next step?’ Maeve interrupted. ‘What are we going to do now?’
‘I … there is no next step,’ said Ottilie, hopelessness weighting her words. ‘They said no, and now they’re … it’s not safe to do anything now.’
Not now that Voilies is going on about witches, Ottilie thought. She didn’t say it; she had begun to fear ever uttering the word ‘witch’.
‘I want to train in secret,’ said Maeve, her eyes stretched wide. ‘I want you to teach me.’
It made sense after the wyler attack, but Ottilie couldn’t help but wonder if Maeve wanted to learn to defend herself against someone else. The thought made her stomach churn.
She really did want to help but … ‘I can’t teach anyone,’ said Ottilie, shaking her head. ‘I’m only learning myself.’
The lantern flickered and sparked. Scoot jumped and leaned away from it. ‘What was –’
Maeve threw her hand over his mouth. Someone was passing.
They moved away.
‘Argh!’ Maeve drew her hand back. Scoot had his teeth bared. He had clearly bitten her.
‘You’re an animal!’ spat Maeve.
‘I’m an animal? Have you looked at yourself lately?’
Ottilie elbowed him. ‘Maeve, this isn’t smart. We have to go. I’ll … I’ll think about it.’