Nightbirds


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 NANCY PAULSEN BOOKS
 An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York
 
 First published in the United States of America by Nancy Paulsen Books, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2023
 Text copyright © 2023 by Kate J. Armstrong
 Map illustrations copyright © 2023 by Sveta Dorosheva
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 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
 Names: Armstrong, Kate J., author.
 Title: Nightbirds / Kate J. Armstrong.
 Description: New York: Nancy Paulsen Books, 2023. | Series: Nightbirds; book 1 | Summary: “In Simta, the magic of women is outlawed, but four girls with unusual powers have the chance to change it all”—Provided by publisher.
 Identifiers: LCCN 2022037458 (print) | LCCN 2022037459 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593463277 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780593463284 (ebook)
 Subjects: CYAC: Magic—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | Fantasy. | Fantasy fiction. lcgft | Novels. lcgft
 Classification: LCC PZ7.1.A7479 Ni 2023 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.A7479 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022037458
 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022037459
 Ebook ISBN 9780593463284
 Edited by Stacey Barney
 Cover art © 2023 by Aykut Aydoğdu
 Cover design by Jessica Jenkins
 Design by Suki Boynton, adapted for ebook by Michelle Quintero
 This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
 The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
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 To my mom, who makes everything feel magical
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 – PROLOGUE –
 THE MAGIC IN A KISS
 All his life, young lord Teneriffe Maylon has heard whispers. They circled the edges of ballrooms and slithered through hushed conversations over port. The Nightbirds will change your fortunes, the whispers promised. Their magic can be yours with just a kiss.
 If you can find them, that is, and meet their requirements. They are a privilege he’s about to pay quite dearly for.
 At last, Tenny is allowed to remove his blindfold. For a moment, all he can make out is the bright burn of candles painting circles on the deeply purple walls. Then a woman perched behind a desk comes into focus, wearing a gown of fine velvet and a darkly feathered mask. It shrouds her face, mesh stretched over the eyeholes. He knows her only by her code name: Madam Crow.
 She holds out a gloved hand, letting it hover. “Your payment.”
 Tenny’s fingers shake a little as he extends the string of rubies. That shake is what gets him into trouble at the krellen tables—it’s such an obvious tell. Tenny is used to seeing money leave him, but it usually flows in the form of coins, not treasures pilfered from his dame’s jewel box. The shame of it tastes like the last dregs of bitter wine. He is tired, nerves tattered from avoiding his rather nefarious creditor and his sire’s certain wrath if he finds out about his son’s growing debts. Tenny’s had a poor run of luck, is all, but tonight, that all changes.
 Madam Crow winds the rubies around her fingers. The dark gems seem to swallow the light.
 “And your secret?” she demands.
 Sweat slides down Tenny’s collar. “The jewels are payment enough, don’t you think?”
 She arches a brow. “Secrets protect my girls better than gems, however pretty. I will have your secret, or you’ll have nothing at all.”
 Tenny sighs and hands her the note he wrote that afternoon, explaining it was he who took his dame’s rubies. He threw in the extent of his debts and the dalliance with his family’s maid for good measure. It’s a risk, to put these secrets into Madam Crow’s keeping, but he knew money wouldn’t be enough to get him through this door.
 The Madam reads his secrets, then folds them up again. She holds a stick of purplish wax over a candle flame until it drips. His pulse picks up as she pours it onto the paper’s folds and slides it toward him. He presses his House Maylon ring into the wax, marking its contents as authentic. Ensuring he will never tell a soul of what he sees tonight.
 That business done, the Madam smiles. “Which Nightbird are you seeking?”
 Tenny licks his lips. A few of his friends have boasted vaguely about their time with a Nightbird, but the magic they spoke of seemed too fanciful to credit. Wild tales to trap desperate fools like him.
 The Madam lays down three cards on the desk between them. They look like krellen cards, but instead of mythical beasts and kings, they hold finely drawn birds.
 
 
 
 “No Nightbird’s magic is the same,” she explains. “They are each a different vintage. The Goldfinch will help you change your feathers, making you look like someone else. The Ptarmigan gives the gift of camouflage—near invisibility. The Nightingale will let you manipulate someone’s emotions, smoothing them in whatever direction you desire.”
 Tenny’s mouth has gone dry. All magic is illegal in the Eudean Republic, but this kind is also incredibly rare. He’s tasted plenty of alchemical magic—the kind that’s mixed into cocktails in Simta’s speakeasies and ground into powders in