duties might be as an assistant to the governess. Iâve just closed the book Miss Tickford gave me on the Hohenzollern dynasty when I hear an odd tapping on the window. I freeze, hardly daring to look behind me. When I do, I see nothing through the stiff lace curtain covering the glass. I wait but thereâs no sound. Iâve almost decided itâs my imagination when it happens again.
Tap. Tap-tap.
I leap to my feet, unsure as to whether I should go to the window or run from the room. But before I decide, Miss Tickford appears in the doorway.
âI think someoneâs knocking,â I tell her.
She nods and then walks across the kitchen and over to the window as if such tapping were the most natural thing in the world.
I stare, openmouthed, as she opens the window, reaches her arms out, and pulls in a pigeon.
âI hope you like birds,â she says, petting his head.
I throw my hands up. âJust when I think that Iâm beyond being surprised . . .â
âLife will always surprise you.â She holds the pigeon out toward me. âBird, meet Samantha.â
âBird?â I reach out and run my fingers over his silky back.
âI call them all Bird. It saves me from having to remember names.â
âYou know so many?â
Her lips quirk upward. âNot really. But theyâll be used a lot during this war, mark my words. Theyâre incredibly useful in passing information along when radio or telephone transmissions are either compromised or too risky.â
I nod as the bird settles, warm and unafraid, in her hands. âI knew the troops had them, but I didnât know they were used in espionage. It makes sense, though.â
âThe palace has a pigeon roost. Three of the birds are plants, and each bird will get the information to severaldifferent operatives within the city. Use them only in an emergency, though. Most of your communication will be through the Hess Bakery.â
My heart tightens. âOn the Nürnberger StraÃe?â
She nods. âDo you know it?â
âI visited it as a child.â
âOh, good. Weâll use that in your signal.â
The bird coos, recapturing my attention. âHow will I know which pigeons are ours?â I ask.
In answer, Miss Tickford sets the bird on the table, then snaps her fingers three times. The bird flies to her shoulder after the third snap. âAll LDB birds are trained to respond to that.â She points, and for the first time I see a small silver tube attached to his thin leg with a wire so fine, it looks more like a strand of hair than metal.
âIâll give you several of these before you leave. Use invisible ink if you can for the message. If not, LDB code will do.â The bird sits patiently as she unwinds the wire and takes off the tube. Then she unscrews the lid and pulls out a thin roll of paper. Itâs blank. âThis one is for training purposes,â she explains. Taking a pen, she scratches something on the paper, rolls it back up, and hands it to me. âHere. You try.â
I pop the scroll into the tiny tube, screw on the lid, and then attach it to the birdâs leg, careful not to tie it too tightly. His leg is rubbery and cold. âYou need stockings, donât you, poor bird,â I say to the pigeon, who coos softly in response.
Miss Tickford smiles and then puts him back through the window.
âWhat constitutes an emergency?â I ask as we watch the bird fly away.
âImminent discovery, imprisonment, or death,â she says.
A chill runs through me as the bird becomes a speck in the sky.
âNow, come. We must transform you into Sophia Thérèse.â
Several hours later, Iâm sitting in the back of a luxurious motorcar that was mysteriously procured for my use. Miss Tickford said the prince would expect nothing less of Sophia Thérèse. Iâm wearing an antique blue charmeuse gown trimmed with snowy lace. The
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