"Ms. Rory Smith," Lola Brandon asked softly, her voice bright with hope, "may I pet your little bird?"
She looked up at Rory with wide, sparkling eyes, her expression so earnest and sweet that refusing her felt almost impossible.
A beautiful girl, smiling shyly, asking permission to touch her pet—how could Rory possibly say no?
"Of course," Rory replied with a gentle laugh, nodding.
The instant she agreed, Lola sprang to her feet, excitent lighting her entire face.
"Ms. Brandon!"
Her two companions reacted imdiately, shoulders tensing as they stepped half a pace forward, clearly prepared to intervene at the slightest hint of danger.
Lola waved them off with an easy grin. "Relax. Ms. Rory Smith isn’t going to hurt ."
She motioned for them to sit back down, then happily crossed the small distance between them and reached out to stroke Burnt Dumpling’s glossy, inky feathers.
"Oh my goodness," she said, delighted. "He’s so round! He’s still a baby, right?"
Rory hesitated.
Truthfully... she had absolutely no idea how old Burnt Dumpling was.
She flicked a quick glance toward Jasper, who gave the tiniest shake of his head. He didn’t know either.
Well. If no one knew, improvisation it was.
"Yes," Rory said smoothly. "He’s still a baby."
Lola humd in satisfaction and stroked Burnt Dumpling again.
The bird imdiately puffed himself up, feathers bristling in pure offense, and snapped his beak toward her fingers with a sharp, warning click.
Lola jerked her hand back just in ti—and then burst into laughter. "Oh!" she exclaid, eyes lighting up. "He’s got spirit!"
She dropped into the seat beside Rory with easy familiarity, still grinning, while Jasper quietly rose and shifted closer to Nix. He positioned himself just near enough to observe without making it obvious—alert, watchful, but deliberately unobtrusive.
Rory reached over and tapped Burnt Dumpling lightly on the head. "Hey," she scolded gently. "No biting."
Then she glanced at Lola’s hand, concern flickering across her face. "Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?"
Lola shook her head, smile never fading. "Not at all. I’m Rank Five," she said lightly. "He couldn’t hurt even if he really tried."
Her expression softened as she looked back at Rory, sothing nostalgic flickering in her eyes. "Your little bird actually reminds of my brother."
"Chirp!" Burnt Dumpling squawked sharply, clearly objecting to the comparison.
Lola continued as if nothing had interrupted her. "When my brother was little, he was just as round," she said fondly. "He couldn’t even lift himself off the ground when he tried to fly. Just hopped and flailed everywhere."
Burnt Dumpling chirped again, louder this ti, feathers fluffing with indignation.
"My brother’s feathers were red, though," Lola added thoughtfully. "All Aurelians have crimson plumage—like living flas. Beautiful." She paused, then glanced back at Burnt Dumpling. "Not like this one."
She tilted her head, studying him with open, unfiltered curiosity. "This little guy’s kind of..." she hesitated, then finished honestly, "...well. Not exactly cute."
Burnt Dumpling let out a deeply offended squawk, wings flaring as if he’d just been gravely insulted on a personal level.
Rory blinked.
Lola leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Ms. Rory Smith, why would you raise such an ugly hatchling? If you like taking care of male chicks, I could give you one from our clan. I promise they’re adorable—and much better looking."
Rory froze.
Give her... a chick?
"No, thank you," she replied politely after a beat. "I’m not interested in raising anyone else’s chicks. I like Burnt Dumpling because he’s... different."
Lola’s shoulders drooped in genuine disappointnt.
"That’s too bad," she sighed. "I was even thinking of offering you my brother—along with one of our chicks. But if you’re not interested, I suppose it can’t be helped."
Rory stared.
Was this really normal? Did Aurelians just... gift male relatives?
She couldn’t help but briefly wonder whether Kather had ever been offered to soone like this before—so casually, so enthusiastically, as if he were a prized keepsake being pressed into a stranger’s hands. Probably not. Hopefully not.
Unbothered by her montary hesitation, Lola gave Burnt Dumpling another affectionate pat and bead. "My brother really is amazing, you know. Handso, too." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Are you sure you don’t want him? It’d be such a waste if he ended up matched with so random female."
Rory laughed softly, shaking her head. "Why would that be a waste?" she replied lightly. "If he’s truly that wonderful, then you should trust the Beast God. He’ll be matched with the most suitable—and the best—partner."
Lola let out an exaggerated sigh, shoulders slumping in mock resignation. "You’re right," she said dramatically. "We’ll trust the Beast God."
Then, without the slightest warning, she clasped Rory’s hand with sudden enthusiasm, fingers warm and insistent. "Ms. Rory Smith," she declared brightly, "I liked you the mont I saw you! There’s a masquerade ball tonight on the Starrail—co dance with !"
Caught completely off guard, Rory hesitated. Her gaze flicked instinctively toward Jasper and Nix, seeking their reactions.
Jasper t her look with a calm smile. "If you want to go, Rory, go," he said easily. "We’ll be right there."
Nix nodded in quick agreent. "I’ve heard it’s lively," he added. "A masquerade sounds fun. You should enjoy yourself."
Rory considered it, the image of music, lights, and masked revelry flickering through her mind as possibility began to take shape.
She had been cooped up in the cabin for days, barely seeing anyone beyond her imdiate circle. A night of music and movent sounded refreshing—invigorating, even.
She smiled at Lola. "All right. Let’s go together."
Lola bead. "Rory—can I call you that? You can just call Lola. You’re heading to the Central District, right?"
"Yes," Rory replied. "My mate, Nix, is from Ravaryn. I’m going with him to visit his family."
Lola’s smile grew even brighter. "Ravaryn? That’s close to Aurelia! We have to add each other on light-brain. You must co visit us soti. Even if you don’t want my brother, we have plenty of other handso males—I’ll introduce you!"
Rory laughed, shaking her head. "I’ll visit for sure. But you can keep the matchmaking."
They chatted easily as the hours passed, conversation flowing without effort.
By the ti night fell, Jasper had already prepared an elegant gown for Rory to wear to the masquerade—laid out carefully, as if he’d been planning it all along.
User Comments
0 comments from readers