I thought carefully before responding. Nina was right about me being the best spirit dreamer (that we knew of), and I’d never seen any sign of a non–spirit user being able to take control of a dream. Nina clearly believed that was the case and that it was preventing her from making contact with Olive. I didn’t dare say it, but I wondered if Nina had been using so much spirit lately that her control was faltering. That would explain why she was having difficulty forging a dream connection, and in her addled state, she’d come up with the idea that Olive was interfering.

Yes, but what has she been using so much spirit on? asked Aunt Tatiana.

It was a good question. Looking over Nina and her state of disarray, I found myself at a loss. Even if she tried to form a spirit dream connection with Olive every day, there was no way that alone could’ve driven Nina to this state. What else was she using magic on? Or was her mental deterioration being accelerated by something more than the magic? Was it a culmination of that and personal stress—like Olive’s disappearance and my rejection?

“Adrian?” asked Neil tentatively. “Isn’t there any way you’d consider helping?”

Not knowing my thoughts, he believed my hesitation was over a refusal to offer assistance. The truth was, I just didn’t know how. And honestly, Nina needed a lot more than help with a spirit dream. She needed help with her life.

“Okay,” I said at last. “I’ll help you connect to her in a dream—but only if you get some sleep.”

Immediately, Nina began shaking her head. “I can’t. I’m too excited. I have to keep looking. I have to—”

“You will get some sleep,” I ordered. “I’m getting Sonya here, and she’s going to bring you a sedative. You will take it. And you will sleep.”

“Later I will. Right now, we need to reach Olive. She’s on a human schedule. She’ll go to bed soon, and I can’t be asleep. We’ll reach her first and—”

“No. No deal.” I made my voice as firm and harsh as I could. “If she’s waited this long, she’ll keep waiting. Sleep first. For God’s sake, Nina! Look at yourself. You’re—”

“What? What?” she demanded, that earlier feverish look returning. “A mess? Ugly? Not good enough for you?”

“Exhausted.” I sighed. “Now, please. Let me call Sonya. You’ll sleep today, and we’ll look for Olive tomorrow. If you’re rested, you’ll be better able to, uh, fight her control.” I still didn’t buy that, but Nina did, and she finally conceded.

“Okay,” she said. “You can call Sonya.”