It is an evil time; either we live or we die.

The dead are laid out in the place de Fouche, waiting for the corpse carriers to cart them away and leaving the square mostly deserted of Those Who Walk by Day. That’s where I find Ettie, sitting cross-legged on the ground, dressed in her dust-gray robes. Loup is going through the pockets of a body nearby.

“That’s a dog’s trick,” I say to Loup. Ghosts aren’t known for stealing anything, let alone from corpses; the dead are their kin, after all.

“Looking for food.” He turns to glance at Ettie.

She’s sitting with her back to us. Loup goes everywhere with her now; he’s Orso’s eyes, ever watchful for the Tiger.

“We have one here that can’t endure long.”

There is never enough food, but it has been weeks since there was any bread or grain to be had—unless you are among the nobility. Police are stationed outside the city’s bakeries to prevent riots. Starving urchins turn themselves in to the poorhouse of the Hôtel-Dieu, ready to risk death within its infested walls, in exchange for a mouthful of gruel. Those Who Walk by Day have declared days of fasting and humiliation. They bring out the reliquaries of Sainte-Geneviève and parade them around the city. From Notre-Dame to the Tuileries the procession walks daily, led by barefoot penitents dripping blood from the wounds of their flagellations.

The Guilds have no time for such archaic superstitions. But we, too, are powerless to feed our numbers. All the amassed wealth of the Court means nothing if there’s no grain to be purchased. My insides are scraped out and hollow, aching with constant hunger.

Ettie is not as strong as Loup and I, not as used to feeling her insides shrink in preparation for the long famine. I’ve tried my best to steal what food I can, but since the beating, I’m not as strong as I was, and hunger makes me even weaker. Plus, anything I forage for Ettie gets shared with at least ten other Ghosts. She can’t bear to see them hungry.

Loup glances over to make sure Ettie is not listening and says sotto voce, “She has a shadow.”

I give a start, look around at the dark corners of the buildings. There’s a Ghost on every street between here and the city gates. The Ghosts are everywhere, and they see everything. If Loup says there’s someone following Ettie, I believe him.

“A child of the Court?” I ask, fearing Thénardier or the Tiger.

“No,” Loup answers.

I try to rid myself of the fear gnawing at my insides. I give a low whistle and Ettie turns to me; I’m pleased that she has started to learn some of the Master Calls.

“Nina!” She greets me, but she’s slow and unsteady on her feet, her eyes sunken. I take her arm and feel little more than bone between my fingers.

“Have you brought anything to eat?” she asks hopefully.