He stared at her from beneath the brim of his hat in direct challenge.Yes?his expression asked.
Drew recovered and squeezed his hand to stay him. “No, please,” she said in a rush. Their faces were close, as close as two people sharing the same doorknob.
In that moment a Dartford warbler made a disoriented dive perilously close to her face. Drew yelped and jumped closer still.
“I’llopen the door,” the man explained slowly, plainly, as if speaking to a mad woman, “and the birds will fly through it.”
“No.” Drew shook her head violently.
An orphan boy bumped into her hip and she was shoved almost into his chest.
“No,” she repeated, righting herself. “If you please. If the warblers escape into the palace, they’ll become separated, they’ll fly mindlessly into far corners and never find their way out. They’ll die of starvation or be killed by staff. We’ll never recover them.”
“These...” he speculated, “are your birds?”
“No,” she said desperately, trying to make him understand. “Dartford warblers are not prone to domestication. The compassionate thing to do is to release them—but into the wild. Not into a palace.”
“And what do you propose?” Now an orphan crashed into him and clung. He used his free hand to lift the boy by his collar and set him back on course for the chaos in the room.
“If we can stop the panic and simply keep calm, the birds will settle. Then we might collect them one by one into the cage and release them properly. But we must all...” she looked with frustration at the room of revolving birds, shouting people, rampaging boys, and barking dogs, “...settle.”
“Right,” he said, following her gaze at the room. “Only mildly ambitious.”
Drew let out a distressed laugh. She couldn’t help herself. He was handsome, and he was funny. And she was holding his hand.
Drew’s heart beat very hard and heavy in her chest. It felt like an egg that contained something very new and wild trying to hatch out.
“Please, sir,” she said, swallowing, “I should like to try.”
Drew stared at him, shocked that he didn’t argue. He looked back with wintery eyes, and the egg of Drew’s heart thumped again. Finally, he gestured to the room with a go-on-then nod.
Drew blinked, snatched her hand away, and turned back to the room. It was a din of wild birds and shouting people and braying dogs.
“Stop!” Drew called, pitching her voice at a shout. “Please! Everyone, if we could keep calm, and allow the birds to find somewhere to light. Please!”
There was no response. Not a single glance. She opened her mouth to try again.
“What about...” the man shouted to her, “the window?”
He pointed to a small, high window that looked out onto a stone wall.
He continued, still shouting, “Would you permit me to release them through the window?”
“Yes, that would be perfect,” Drew shouted back. “If you can manage it.”
The man wound his way through scrambling people and careening birds. The window was high but he reached it with little effort.
“It’s painted shut!” he called to Drew.
“There’s no help for it!” she called back, halfway to him.
A boy darted in front of her and she caught him up by the wrist. “You must stoprunning,” she pleaded. Another boy followed and she caught him with the other hand. The boys pulled and squirmed against her hold, trying to rejoin the fray.
He pushed at the window again but it wouldn’t budge. Meanwhile, a diving warbler swooped low and almost collided with his head. He swore and ducked. He was readjusting his hat when a second bird hit him, this time in the ear.
“Are you hurt?” Drew called, releasing the boys. He ignored her as he scanned the room. His gaze lit on the smokey fire, and he reached for the metal poker propped on the hearth. Before she fully comprehended his intent, he took up the poker, thrust it through the window, and thrashed it around, shattering glass and breaking panes.
The commotion cut through the din in the room, and for a long second, all the shouts, arm waving, and barking fell silent.
