Chickens. Water. Chickens. Water.
Misa sighed. She tapped her finger against the marble table. It was frustrating. The thought had been right at the forefront of her mind, then Royle had come along and distracted her. And now, no matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t remember exactly what it was that had burrowed itself in her memories.
It was barely past lunchtime, but Misa hadn’t had much of an appetite. Royle was at a lunch meet, and Misa had strayed to a room close by. It uneased her that Nisha was nowhere to be seen. The other witches had wandered the halls, checking the ballroom, confirming their roles with a servant, but Nisha and Rithian hadn’t been present. What were they up to?
Groaning, Misa slumped over on the table, letting its cool surface touch her che
