Jumping back, I covered my scream. “Is it… dead?” I croaked.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t worry too much about him. He’s served his purpose now,” she said with cold indifference.
My stomach turned. Still, I opened the vial and sipped the potion. The familiar heat and tingling sensation spread through my body. Relief shortly followed.
“If that’s all,” said the Crow as she began to evaporate, growing more translucent by the second.
“Wait!” I called. I had an idea.
“Yes?”
My next words would have to be phrased carefully. If I said the wrong thing, there was no predicting how she would react. “There’s been a murder and an attack at the castle. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
She laced her fingers together once more. “Interesting… and why would I know anything about the affairs of mortals?”
“Because…” I toyed with my charm bracelet, running my fingers over the golden bear. “I think a witch might be responsible.”
I recounted everything that had happened, leaving out the part about the note the murderer had written—she didn’t need to know that someone had somehow discovered my identity.
After I finished speaking, she was quiet and unnaturally still. It was maddening, not being able to read the expression onher face.
Finally, she spoke. “What you describe aligns with the practices of dark magic. It seems to me that the body of the mortal was marked in preparation for something.”
I felt a quiver right down to my toes. Dark magic was the name given to the most vile and unthinkable spells, potions and rituals that were expressly forbidden in all corners of Orradon. The Crow was well-versed in dark magic—the necromanced bird was evidence of this.
“So, this has nothing to do with you?”
She scoffed. “I have told you, child, I cannot step foot in the kingdom of Solvardunn. If I do so, I will perish.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t compel someone else to do your bidding,” I pressed.
To my surprise, she cackled. “I cannot compel anyone to act against their will. Only one has ever possessed that kind of power.” The Great Deceiver.
“Would you swear it? On our agreement?” I knew I was pushing it.
“Have I not done enough for you already?” she asked, sounding amused.
“Please? Think of it as a gesture of good faith.”
She hummed while she considered. “Very well. Ingood faith, I shall do as you ask. I did not murder the mortal or attack the prince, nor did I compel anyone to do so on my behalf. This I swear on our agreement.”
The tightness in my jaw relaxed a fraction. “Do you know of anyone who might be responsible?”
Hands behind her back, she took a few slow steps around the room. “I know of a witch in the kingdom. The one who is responsible for the wards.”
My eyes tracked her every movement. They followed her to the still life of the daffodil on the wall. “What can you tell meabout them?”
She examined the painting as she said, “She goes by the name of Basia. She has resided in this kingdom for centuries.”
I began to pace. “Do you think this Basia might be the murderer?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She lifted a shoulder. “Either way, there is little that goes on in this kingdom without her knowledge. Seek her out and you will find the answers to your questions. I’m certain of it.”
I watched the Crow cross the space to the breakfast table. She studied the various pieces of parchment on the floor, including, to my annoyance, my note to Tarben. “Interesting,” she said as if talking to herself.
“Where can I find her?” I asked, ignoring her remark.
“Could it be that the mortal is not alone in his affections?” she asked in a mocking voice.
