Whatever dregs were left of Niccola's good mood evaporated as she pushed open the door to the painting room. The plate of biscuits the sisters had requested this morning sat in the middle of the table, but its mess of crumbs spread across the hardwood like constellations. A biscuit with a single bite taken out of it lay crushed on the floor. From the angle of the smear, one sister had thrown it at the other, who had stepped on it.

Niccola's mother would have sent her or her sister to the kitchen to wash pots with the cooks given such an infraction. If the food on the floor was inedible, she'd make whoever dropped it clean it up and take it to the rookeries for the crows to finish—or if not the rookeries, then the henhouse of the nearest family who looked in need of feeding. Niccola clenched her broom like a weapon to resist the urge to use it like one. The crow she'd befriended three moons ago was perched in the tree outside. Feeding her would be the least egregious of all the destinations for a crushed biscuit. That way, at least the food would not go to waste.

When the table and floor were clean, Niccola double-checked that none of the Bel Ilans had returned, then popped the latch on the window. The crow landed on her proffered arm. Niccola brought her to the table where the plate of gathered crumbs lay waiting.

"Eat," she said. "It's your reward for helping me after this."

The crow bobbed her head in reply. She had always been mute when spoken to, and Niccola had grown accustomed to the silence. With body language at her disposal, it was no real challenge. If anything, the only shortfall was that Niccola had never learned this crow's name, and her parents had always maintained a strict policy of only calling crows by the names their own kind gave them. Names translated by Niccola's mother or Phoebe, the only magic-carriers—barrowers—of the family until seven moons ago.

Body language was enough, at least, to express the crow's appreciation for the food. She pecked delicately at the remains of the biscuit while Niccola prowled the room. There was rarely anything of interest here, and today was no exception. The only change was on the easel in the corner. The scene its canvas depicted bore more detail than the last time Niccola had seen it, and she stopped for a moment to survey it. Admire was not the right word. But Esther was admittedly a fair hand at painting.

The scene was a familiar one, done up in colours that lay adjacent to reality in a not-unpleasant manner. Centered on the canvas was the steep, pitched roof of the shrine Niccola passed every time she went to market. People in the lowlands went there to leave food offerings for the crows that speckled the sky, perched along the eaves of buildings, and lurked inside the edges of the Talakova. As with most views in Calis, the great forest and its birds brooded in the background of the painted scene. The Talakova had a presence, and Esther had captured it.

Niccola turned back to the table to find the crow watching her. The sparkle of intelligence danced in the bird's eye, a sentience that had always drawn Niccola in a way that few other animals did. Or perhaps that was her home realm's bias talking. Varna raised crows, after all, and both trained and traded them as the basis of their economy. Varnic crow messengers, trackers, scouts, and aides were well-renowned throughout the Ring of Thirty. Still, Niccola could see how a less crow-accustomed realm like Calis could develop so many superstitions about the birds. Leah, for one, believed them to be the eyes of the Talaks, wild spirits of the Talakova. Her view was not a lone one among the Calisian upper class.

"Was it good?" Niccola asked with a nod to the biscuit plate, and got the bob of a head and body in return. The crow went back to watching her. Niccola dropped to a chair and picked up a stray paintbrush, tapping its handle on the table. "Are you ready to help me?"

Affirmation was immediate. The crow had been waiting for her to bring up the second half of her proposition, and another smile tugged the corner of Niccola's lips. Crows might be the only species that opting into her family's magic-line allowed her to converse with, but she'd choose them over other birds any day. Their intelligence and curiosity predisposed them to mischief, and most were more than happy to assist her whenever she needed their wings and beaks for targeted misconduct.

"Here is what I need you to do," she said. "On the other side of this house are two open windows, side by side. Inside are two rooms. One has a big mirror. The other has a green bed. There is a key hiding in each of them."

The crow bobbed eagerly.

Niccola continued. "The first key is in the smallest drawer under the mirror. The second key is under the pillow of the green bed. Can you bring them both to me?"

That was all the crow needed. The draft of her wings scattered leftover crumbs as she swooped to the window, landed on the sill, and disappeared outside. Niccola re-cleaned the table and emptied the dregs into the garden below. The crow was back by the time she knocked the dustpan clean. She deposited two spare room keys in Niccola's hand with just a hint of smugness.

"Thank you," said Niccola. "You can wait in the tree for a little bit now. I will need you to put these back after."

She got another affirmative, and the crow departed. Niccola slipped out of the painting room. Checking Leah and Esther's rooms for ball invitations was routine for her by now. The chances of one landing on their desks before it landed on Lady Selah's were slim, but there was benefit in being thorough, even if the gilded envelopes of Leah's love letters made a painful false alarm as often as not. Leah's boyfriend wrote on only the finest paper. Apparently he'd never been much given to formalities before, but dating seemed to do that to a person. Niccola had never understood the vagaries of courtship between people whose bodies fell for one another to the point of addling their minds, but she would be the first to attest to its power.

Sure enough, a series of new love letters—several received, and one half written—decorated Leah's desk. There was no ball invitation. Esther's room was similarly empty. Niccola let herself out again and called the crow to return the keys. She would have an easier time sneaking in and out if she'd learned to pick locks before coming to Calis, but it wasn't a skill she'd thought to gain. At least there was always a crow or two around to ask for assistance.

Niccola retreated down the stairs. She moved to Lady Selah's private office next. It was the work of a moment to retrieve the key from its "secret" spot beneath the hallway rug, where a different crow had once seen the Lady stash it. The lock slid back with barely a click. Niccola eased the door open.

Success.

Stacked on Lady Selah's desk was a new batch of mail. Niccola suspected it had come in over the past few days, and been stashed by the Lady before Niccola herself could find it. Calisian paranoia. Niccola glanced out the window behind the desk, then drew the curtain and began to pick through the mail. The first letter was of little importance. The next two were correspondence from Lady Selah's divorced husband. The fourth was an invite to some upper-class tea party; the fifth, a billing notice. The sixth was of greater interest. A public alert, printed on cheap paper.

Dear citizens of Calis,

This is a notice of public safety regarding recent reports of a wild beast or rogue Talak in the edge of the Talakova. Please exercise caution when pursuing activities near the forest's edge. Do not walk alone, especially at night. If you are not a barrower, ensure you conduct the proper rituals to enter the forest if entry is unavoidable. If you live forestward of Blackstone Road, you are advised to stay home unless absolutely necessary during the week leading up to the Crow Moon.

Please inform the City Guard immediately if the threat is seen or otherwise confirmed.

Signed,

The Cantor Royal Family

Niccola's heart rate picked up as she read it through twice more. It was a silly thing—a mental fixation unconfirmed by other evidence—but predation was one reason for her sister's disappearance that she'd considered moons ago. Niccola's chest stung. It would be her fault if Phoebe had been taken by a beast or rogue Talakova spirit. Yet that didn't ease her desire to investigate this so she might know for sure. Even confirmation of Phoebe's death would bring closure to her situation—let her return to Varna and inform them of her sister's demise. Maybe then, people would view her with a less critical eye.

Already the reason she should be headed to the market today was fraying. This was a potential lead. She could ask Verde about it: the affable coppersmith was a market regular and near-lifelong Calisian resident, attuned to the whisperings of the realm. He was also one of the few people here that Niccola had come to trust. He would know more. It might not bring her to the woman in the sketch. It might not have anything to do with that lead at all. But it was something.

And it wasn't like she had anything else to do now except wait for a ball invite anyway. Until that came, she might as well pursue alternatives.

Niccola memorized the notice and set it aside. She caught her breath as she saw the next item on the mail pile. It was another notice, this time printed on much finer paper. Niccola snatched it up. Her jittering heart began to drum for a different reason entirely.

Dear citizens of Calis,

It is with delight and anticipation that we announce to you the prince of Calis's intent to marry. Preparations for the courtship period are in progress and will be announced over the coming weeks. We encourage you to spread this glad news to your friends, family, and beyond.

Signed,

The Cantor Royal Family

This, at last, explained the palace's silence with organizing balls. They'd finally done it. If market gossip was to be believed, the Calisian prince had never courted, despite being close to Niccola's age. Six-and-twenty years without a partner. Niccola read the notice again, breathless. This could be her ticket into the palace. But more than that, whatever celebration this promised would bring Calisian citizens out from every corner of the realm. Since arriving, Niccola had relied on markets, social gatherings, and extended walks to search for her target. Courtship and marriage festivities could be the break she'd been waiting for.

She wanted so badly to pocket this notice, but that was impossible while rifling through the household mail. Memorizing it, too, Niccola returned it to the desk. The rest of the pile yielded nothing else of interest. Niccola replaced the whole stack and rearranged it as it had been when she'd walked in, then let herself out again. Leah had left money for her requested kerchief beside the front door. Niccola pocketed it and slipped on her shoes. Now she had two things to ask Verde about, if the market gossip mill didn't fill her in on the details first. If anything got people talking in the streets, it was this.