path of the bird as it ruffled from one side of its cage to the other.
“It's not a nest,” Tanen spoke. “But I thought it might do. I found the cage. The bird, I caught.”
My skepticism flew in bigot fashion to his face, all too ready to denounce him. This joker could not play me, would not find his way into my deck of cards. But his eyes were sincere as any blue sky, graced by the sun, open and pure, and I choked on the idea of my doubt, unable to fling it at him. One didn't challenge the sky that way. It was intimidating.
“How about it, Lady Siren?” he perked a proposal at me. I wondered when he had dreamed up that likeness. “As worthy as any nest? Maybe, even, a little bit better?”
My response, when it came, was somewhat of a compromise. “You can catch a bird but you can't find one mangy nest?” I sent back, as unimpressed as I could manage.
His eyes were knowing at this response – a knowing sky. Like an umbrella of knowing that hovered over me, bearing down on me, to all corners of the earth, even as I turned and walked away. Cloudless and all-seeing.
It was there, reading over my shoulder as I trudged. I couldn't shake it.
You can't shake the sky.
*
I sulked. Though my eyes would wander without my permission to the bird and its cage hanging like an ornament of cheer by the window, I ultimately sulked.
I sulked clear through the week, as that charming token of redemption tweeted like fingernails on a chalk board in the house, winning me over as it grated on my nerves.
It was a terrible reminder.
And a lovely gift.
*
Needless to say, when I ought to have been donning my Albino skin for my recovered debut a week later, I was in no state to win Letta's approval.
She had taken my sulking for incompetency.
She thought I was still ailing.
The irony smacked me in the face, but instead of sweeping it aside, I let it hang there with the stray locks of my hair. I'd done this myself.
I could have groaned, but I wouldn't allow Tanen that victory. He had already been entirely too victorious.
And I had the pet bird to show for it.
“This is silly,” I said instead, to Letta. It did not sound like a protest. I wouldn't let it. It sounded like a fact.
The fact that it was.
“We can't afford any more pets, Letta,” I tried to reason with her practically, pointedly.
“I don't imagine he'll come back with any horses, Vant. I wouldn't worry. There is not much out there.”
My dream of elephants came back to me, distracting in its clarity, for I hadn't thought about it in awhile.
But Tanen was looking at me.
“Go on,” I bade with a sweep of my hand in exasperation. He took his cue and took his leave. I was not going to sit there and argue like a slighted child.
But this wasn't about candy.
It was about lanterns and chandelier crystals and birds.
Much more serious stuff.
So he hadn't seen the last of me.
*
I, on the other hand, had seemingly seen somewhat of the last of him. It came to my attention late the next day, when I realized he had been a bit reclusive since the morning. Not wanting to seem interested, I resisted asking around.
But his presence, or lack thereof, was like a bite taken out of the day.
Where are you hiding? I thought in mild frustration.
I went about my chores, but found myself gazing in at the bird in its cage by the evening. He needed a name, but I had hoped not to be the one to give him one. I did not want to be attached.
He was a mix of bright blues and yellows tempered by overlaying patches of more ashen feathers. He zipped from one wall of his cage to the other, making it swing on its hook, spilling seed shells as he chittered at me. He was lovely – there was no denying it – but as always, I tripped down my biased slant with this thought:
How cruel of him to trap you this way. That Tanen is no good, is he? I ought to set you free...
But I couldn't bring myself to.
There was no logical explanation for it. I simply...didn't. I meant to, but I didn't. I left him there, and then fed him later on. I caught myself gazing at him again, too. He was very nice to look