Chapter Two

Silken streamers of deep green and white hung from the ceiling in the Great Hall; decorations to honor the occasion. The party guests would arrive soon, just when the sun dipped. With the stretch of the summer days, it was taking its time to lower into the western sea, the breeze of which still reached the palace despite the castle being a bit away from the shoreline. 

Bed birds scooped pale lily petals from bowls and dusted them onto one of the dining tables that had already been draped in linens. They spoke as they worked, sharing stories of their mornings, giggling as they chatted. Smiling.

The smiles had not always fit on their faces.

When Salas had first arrived at the palace those ten years ago, the mood among the birds had been dismil and sour. When Salas was free to finally roam about, he had avoided the other birds for the odd, awful sensation they brought to him, seeing their depressing figures lurking about like ghosts ready to crumble at the slightest push of wind. He realized quickly that he was not like them. His position, being the Emperor’s personal bird, was different: he was not ordered about by the other palace staff or by the gentry who lived in the palace. He was not given servile tasks such as cleaning or decorating. He did service other men and the occasional woman, when it was requested, but members of the court did not drag him from a room and demand it from him. And at the end of the day, Salas did not retreat to claim a cushion in the harem hall and fall asleep with that strange look they had in their eyes.

Salas had asked about the feeling they provoked, once, to the Emperor. The man had brushed off his inquiries, claiming the heat had the birds feeling down.

“It’s fall,” Salas had said.

“Finish your painting. You’ve been practicing and you almost have talent. Almost,” the Emperor had said.

So Salas had asked Jovack about the other birds and why he did not feel comfortable around them.

“Guilt,” the statesman had said. “You probably feel guilty that you seemingly maintain autonomy, while they do not.”

Salas had frowned. “I do not understand. Why do they not ask for it? Why isn’t it given to them?”

The statesman had laughed and petted Salas fondly. “You never fail to amuse me, Salas. Why does one not free a slave? Well, that would very well defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

“Slave?” Salas had asked.

It was then that Salas had learned what it meant to have a lack of freedom, to be taken, held captive. He’d thought about his room by the garden.

He went to the Emperor shortly after his revelation. He’d asked for the slaves to be free. When Eldron seemed ready to shut the conversation down, Salas had been ready. He had come prepared.

“Listen, my love,” Salas had crooned, sitting in the old man’s lap and fitting his head into the crook of his neck so his nose brushed the bristled, wrinkled skin. “It is not such a radical step as you would think. Give them a chance to be free, to return home if they wish it, and they will praise you for it. They will fall to their feet. Give them a reward for their time and service, a payment of gold, and you will earn their devotion. Many will choose to stay. Contract them for a ten year time period, allow them to agree or disagree to it, and at the end, they can return home to their families with what they have rightfully earned.”

This time, the Emperor had pondered the idea, thinking it over carefully.

Salas knew Emperor Eldron could be vicious and hold a rancor in his heart like no other, but he was no tyrant. Nor was he, however, benevolent by nature. But kind ideas, once placed before him, always seemed to spark an interest in him. 

“I do not see how this benefits me other than my funds being thrown at the feet of palace whores,” the Emperor had said eventually, though not cruelly. 

Salas’ head was still dipped, so the Emperor had not seen him cringe. 

“The court will benefit as well. They will no longer see the birds as...as mere slaves. With their employment and higher standing, the birds will appear as something valuable. They will be prized and important. Give them gifts and trinkets of gold for them to wear and keep, and they will be treasured. Neighboring kingdoms will speak of your beautiful birds.”

Eldron wanted to be known as the almighty Emperor that his kingdom praised willingly. He desired to be one the bards would script into their ballads with nothing but admiration for their ruler. He wanted Susconians to say good things about him and his ruling in passing. He wanted a court that was consistently good-natured and entertained. He wanted birds around him who adored him and knelt plyantly. Salas knew this about him.

Salas' proposition had not been a lost cause.

It had taken a bit of time for the transition to realize itself, but eventually, it had happened, and everyone had benefited from it. 

As had Salas. A seed had been planted inside of him. It was nurtured when he recalled how it had felt to whisper exactly what he wanted to the Emperor and watch as his desires were fulfilled. He had enjoyed the planning and the process of obtaining what he wanted. He liked pre-calculating the Emperor’s response, and the way it had stretched his mind like a muscle that had been relaxed for too long. He felt, for the first time, intelligent. He was no longer the caged bird that someone might mistake as being ‘soft in the head.’ 

The Emperor had listened to him, and the special, warm feeling the power had elicited had blossomed. Enough to the point that Salas could not help but to try again.

Lying in bed with the Emperor, while spirits were high from leftover pleasure, he’d requested for more avocado trees to be planted, for he liked a particular dish the fruit of the plant made. When this had been done, he had then requested that the theme of the Spring Festival be centered around a particular mer tale he liked. Again, it had been done. When Salas caught a usurping spy among the court folk who hailed from a hostile neighboring kingdom, Salas had asked for the spy to be removed. It had been done.

It was then that Salas knew that he was more than a bird. He had power here, in the Southern Kingdom of Suscon. It was more than he had ever expected. It was more than he could have asked for. Again, it was not something he would take for granted.

Salas immersed himself in politics, culture, and gossip so thoroughly, it came to the point where Eldron sought Salas out of his own volition to receive council. He would ask for Salas’ ideas and for suggestions, and in those moments, Salas felt as though their positions had turned. Though he would never speak the idea aloud, Salas felt as though he were the Emperor, and Eldron were the bed slave. 

He loved it.

The only problem was the future. Emperor Eldron was aging, and he had yet to claim a successor. The Emperor’s late wife, who’d passed before Salas had ever met her, had died without ever bearing children. That, and the Emperor’s strong preference for young men in his bed, had staunched the possibility of an heir to be born.

The Emperor had once mused, “When I made my wishes, I regret not asking for your anatomy to be complete with a womb in your belly, Salas.”

Salas’ nose had wrinkled at the mere suggestion. He pictured the rare court children, brought into the palace during holidays, their bodies’ more aligned to the proportions of starfish than humans.

“Ew,” he had said, with feeling.

But the issue still remained: once the Emperor was gone, what would happen to Salas?

He’d raised the question once, and only once, and the answer had appeased him. Eldron had assured him that once he passed, Salas would still maintain his position in the court. It was possible that the council members would choose the new ruler themselves, and place said person on the throne, creating a new era.

Salas had accepted this answer, trying not to think about the daunting prospect of someone else taking over the Emperor’s place, and therefore taking over Salas. They wouldn’t know about the conversations he and Eldron shared, nor the influence Salas had. Salas would, again, be just a bird. Moreso, he was the only bird without a contract. Salas had no freedom to claim. He was Eldron’s permanent prize.

Well, if the new ruler brings me down, Salas had thought, I will simply have to work my way up again.  

With that idea, a certain thrill came to him at the prospect of a challenge, and proceeding it, Salas was no longer so fearful of the future.