“How did he ever manage to catch it?”

“He didn’t. I did.”

“You?” I say in disbelief. He’s a child, like me! I could never catch a bird, not even the magpies that relentlessly knock at the castle’s windows.

“How!” It’s more of a command than a question. His eyes twinkle as he turns his focus back to the bird.

“I like their world. I’m more at home in the trees than here in this castle. Last year, on my thirteenth birthday, I was in some woods lying in a patch of grass, and it landed on my hand. It was like the trees sent me a present. I didn’t move; I just watched it. The sun began to set, and I knew it was time to return home. Only, when I got up, the bird didn’t move. It stayed on my palm, unafraid. So, I brought it here.”

“You walked all the way from the woods to the castle carrying the bird, and it just … it just let you?” My whisper intensifies.

“Yes,” he says plainly. “Honest to the Guard and his Sword, it just let me.”

I draw a deep breath. We’re not to swear on the gods; he must be telling the truth. “What did your father say when you told him? Is your mother happy to have such a rarity in her castle?”

Braizen rubs the back of his fingers against the bottom of his chin. “I never told them.”

“You never told them!” My voice rises far above a whisper, and the bird perks its head up from the water.

The Prince swats his hand. “Shh!”

I cover my mouth and peek through the leaves to make sure the bird didn’t fly away. After a few seconds of looking around, it continues to drink. “Why didn’t you tell them? Your father searched for years to find that bird!”

The Prince seems to consider his answer before looking straight into my eyes. “Because the bird found me. It chose me. Not my father or my mother. That’s what I like about her. She doesn't show up for just anyone. She’s very selective.”

“She’s female?” I smile as the bird’s brilliant feathers shimmer against the black stone.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “But when something is as beautiful as that, I have to assume it's a girl.”

The bird hops in and out of the pool to bathe herself, soft chirps that sound like happiness leaping from her beak.

“Have you named her?” I ask.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He runs a hand through his brown curls and flashes me a smile.

“You know, you kind of remind me of her,” he says.

My heart skips, and I focus on the golden-winged mystery. What in the four hells am I feeling? My stomach turns, but I don’t feel sick. I feel light and excited.

“There are a lot of pretty birds in here, but this one is different. This one stands out,” he says.