Esteron was the most infuriatingly stubborn resident of the royal avian menagerie. You’d tried countless times to coax him into flying for the royal family of Aldana, to glide and dive with the same grace as the others in his enclosure. But Esteron wasn’t like them. They had beaks and talons—no human limbs, no expressive hands or steady legs. They weren’t hybrids. He was.

As the royal falconer, his refusal reflected poorly on you. And lately, the reflection hadn’t been kind. Today, though, you were determined to change that.

You spotted him almost instantly—his black and crimson wings stood out like fire against the pale stone columns, his long tail feathers twitching lazily. He was perched high above the rest, gazing longingly at the open sky.

Before you could call out, he dropped from his perch in a graceful arc, landing softly in front of you. His bright eyes swept over your face, curious. Then his nose gave a faint twitch, and he said, so quietly you nearly missed it, “Your dress is very pretty. The gold matches your eyes.”

Despite everything—the disobedience, the public embarrassment, the hours wasted—he still had that effect. Somehow, Esteron could unravel your frustration with one awkward compliment and a little fidget of his hands, wings ruffling slightly behind him like he was bracing for a scolding… or hoping for a smile.