The guard standing before the palace snatches Ivory's invitation from her hands. He squints at the paper lined with silver, that eventually forms Aglia's emblem near the edge of the page. “It's valid…” he mutters in shock as he does a double-take on her figure, then proceeds to stare back at the black ink, and the words: Entry For One.

“Ah.” Ivory sighs. “Thank the gods.” Her head hangs low. She’s relieved by the statement, yet curious all the same as to why the man is still staring at her in bewilderment and disbelief.

The soldier raises a brow. “You were not sure?”

Her shoulders tense. She glances at her feet. It is likely Robin feels the nature of her nerves, for he soon lets out a low, curious croak. “It's my first time at a place like this,” Ivory admits. “I feel very blessed to have been invited, but I still have a hard time believing I am here, and able to enter.”

“You can't take the bird with you though, I'm afraid.”

She raises her head. “I can't?”

He shakes his own, then crosses his arms. “Feathers and buffets don't mix well.”

Behind them, an impatient line of young women tap their heels against the pavement and snarl.

Ivory looks at Robin and purses her lips together. “But what do I do with him then? I can't leave him out here, all alone.”

The guard pauses. He huffs. He scratches at his hair, brown brittle strands that have turned a shade of amber under the golden glow of the castle's lights. “Well…” He shrugs. “Your bird friend does have a hat… Maybe he could stay with me. He wouldn't look too out of place. Does he like people?”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Does he? Ivory wonders, as the man awaits her reply. “Um... maybe,” there is absolutely no trace of certainty in her tone. She stares at Robin again and laughs. “Do you, my friend?”

He caws.

“I'm sorry,” she tells the guard. “I've never tried leaving him with someone for too long, but if you are willing to look after him for me, I swear he is good company.”

The guard holds out his arm. “As long as he doesn't bite me, I'm good,” he says.

“Oh,” Ivory's eyes widen. “No, no. Of course not.”

Robin is still tiny, trusting like young souls tend to be; she doubts he would attempt to harm the man, unless he were to do so first.

The crow hesitates for the instance of a second. “I'll be back soon, I promise,” she whispers to him. “I'll even bring you some food.” This seems to convince the bird, for he soon hops onto the guard's arm and quickly finds his perch on his shoulder, as he had with Ivory earlier today.

Ivory turns and apologizes to the crowd that had begun to fume at their ears from being denied entrance, because of the feather-buffet situation. She thanks the guard once more and professes how grateful she is before bidding him farewell, and slipping past a crowd posed right in front of the palace, until she reaches its interior and steps inside.

Chandeliers illuminate the entrance as if it were day, and not a few hours away from the stroke of midnight. Ivory is hit by the noise of chatter, but most importantly, the scent of turkey, pastries and other delicacies she is sure do not exist outside of this castle.

Her stomach growls. The weight of the prince's earring is heavy in her bag and her mind. She considers setting out to find him, yet, Ivory’s hunger gets the best of her, and no more than a minute later, she is stumbling towards the buffet, with eager hands and astonishment at the unbelievable amount of food laid out across the buffet; there is not even a quarter of what could be found in the brothel's kitchen, and it is free!

Ivory grabs half a steak. A side-dish of vegetables. She slathers her plate in sauce that smells like heaven itself, and promises to herself, that once her meal is finished, she will return the earring to its rightful owner and wish the Prince a very happy birthday.

Her first bite is divine.

Ivory’s regrets about coming here are washed away with the taste of fruit and other, sweet delicacies.