In the dark, I dreamed. I dreamed of poppies struggling from dust. I’d never seen colors when I slept, but now all I could see was the red flowers and the evening sun. They sheltered me, shedding their petals, blanketing my fevered body. When I woke, I was propped up in a bed with white sheets. My arm was bandaged. The pain was gone.

The blond man was beside me. I remember his smile; just a small smile—but it made me smile back. He looked like a prince.

“Hello, Paige,” he said.

I asked where I was.

“You’re in hospital. I’m your doctor.”

“You don’t look old enough to be a doctor,” I said. Or scary enough. “How old are you?”

“I’m eighteen. Still learning.”

“You didn’t sew my arm funny, did you?”

He laughed. “Well, I tried my best. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

He’d told my father where I was, he said, and he was on his way to see me. I said I felt sick. He said that was normal, but I’d have to rest to make it go away. I couldn’t eat just yet, but he’d get me something nice for dinner. He sat with me for the rest of the day, only leaving me to bring sandwiches and a bottle of apple juice from the hospital canteen. My father had told me never to talk to strangers, but I wasn’t afraid of this kind, soft-spoken boy.

Dr. Nicklas Nygård, a transfer from the Scion Citadel of Stockholm, kept me alive that night. He saw me through the shock of becoming fully clairvoyant. If not for him, it might have been too much for me to stand.

My father drove me home a few days later. He knew Nick from a medical conference. Nick was training in the town before he took a permanent position at SciSORS. He never said what he’d been doing in the poppy field. While my father waited for me in the car, Nick knelt in front of me and took my hands. I remember thinking how handsome he was, and how perfectly his eyebrows arched over his lovely winter-green eyes.

“Paige,” he said, very quietly, “listen to me. This is very important. I’ve told your father you were attacked by a dog.”

“But it was a lady.”

“Yes—but that lady was invisible, sötnos. Some grown-ups don’t know about invisible things.”

“But you do,” I said, confident in his wisdom.

“I do. But I don’t want other grown-ups to laugh at me, so I don’t tell them.” He touched my cheek. “You must never, ever tell anyone about her, Paige. Let’s make it our secret. Promise?”