And a strange tale it was. It seemed that when the older man had been a boy, he had heard that very song and was determined to hear the birds speak at midnight. So he had slipped away from the bed he was supposed to be in and got into the Royal Mews. “And whether it was at midnight or no, I swear to you, when the birds quieted after my disturbing them, they did start to speak. Before long, I knew every little thing that was troubling them, from the little hobby whose perch was too big for his small claws to the eagle who hated the man who cleaned his stall. At some point I fell asleep in there for true, with my head pillowed on a sack. The birds woke me when morning came and my parents and all found me, and I got a round scolding for being there, but when I rattled off all that the birds had said in the night, the Royal Falconer then started and looked at me like I had grown a tail. ‘I was going to change that hobby’s perch this morning,’ was what he said in answer. ‘And I’d suspected that old Char had got on the wrong side of the eagle somehow. And as for the rest of it—well, I don’t know it to be true, by damme if I’m not going to act on it. And as for you, my lad, I am going to be talking to your da.’ And so he did, that very moment.”

Marc nodded. “So that was how you ended up ’prenticed to the Royal Falconer.”

“Did you ever hear the birds speak again?” Lydia asked, her eyes wide.

He shook his head. “Not in words. And I can’t swear I heard them that night, either. I could’ve dreamed it all. But I have always known how the birds were feeling, what troubles them, what ails them. Marc has none of that for birds, but he has for the dogs.”

Marc nodded. “Though I can’t say I’ve ever heard them speak at midnight on Midwinter Eve.”

“That’s because your old papa always made sure you weren’t creeping about in the kennels on Midwinter Eve,” the Falconer chuckled.

And so the first part of the evening passed. There were no sad stories, no sad songs. Everything spoke of hope, even if some of the tales were, in Mags’ estimation, entirely absurd.

And then, just before midnight, they all stopped talking, and Lydia picked up the candles, distributing them to all the guests. As if that was a signal, the servants came in, doused the remaining lights and smothered the fire with a blanket. And they all sat there, in the dark, with the room growing colder and colder.