Page 81 of The Prince of New York

“I’ll ask, but no promises.”

Asking would have to be good enough, at least for now.

TWENTY-THREE

Being friends with the bird had not been on the agenda.

Danielle and Mayloved everything about the beef soup, although they needed a hundred and one reminders to chew so they wouldn’t choke. As Vincent guessed, the meal did a good job of making them sleepy. I carried May, Madelyn took Danielle, and we made it to the animal shelter without incident.

Once there, I learned the truth about such places.

It hurt to see so many animals whining and crying in cages, and I proved to be the most problematic person on the venture. If allowed, I would adopt them all, resulting in the palace being overrun with dogs, cats, rabbits, and other animals.

A parrot, one with an odd face reminding me somewhat of an owl, had stress plucked her own feathers and bobbed in her cage. I couldn’t even tell what type of parrot she was supposed to be, which broke my heart in more ways than I wanted to dwell on.

Rather than accompany the girls throughout the cat room, I did my best to make friends with the bird, armed with a few choice pieces of fruit.

Thus far, the parrot had rejected any attempts to be friends with anyone.

Her owner had died in a car crash, and they had been a bonded pair.

Friends or not, the bird would get a forever home in the palace, and I’d work to find her some other parrots to keep her company. As she couldn’t fly, I was permitted to open the cage, warned I might get bitten for daring to enter her territory, and to not bring her curved beak anywhere near my face.

Before I had a chance to even attempt to reach inside the cage to offer the piece of mango, the parrot jumped for freedom, landed on my wrist, and hopped towards my shoulder, continuing to bob and squawk a storm.

As being friends with the bird had not been on the agenda, and she’d gotten in range of my face of her own volition, I offered the piece of fruit.

It vanished with alarming speed.

The parrot made an odd booming sound before screeching at me. I assumed she wanted more food, so I accepted another piece of mango from the shelter’s volunteer, offering it.

It, too, disappeared. Fortunately for my ears, the parrot refrained against screaming again, ruffled what remained of her feathers, and settled on my shoulder.

“Monty?” I called, aware the poor RPS agent drove himself crazy trying to keep an eye on me and my young charges at the same time.

He came over, caught sight of the bird on my shoulder, and laughed. “I’ll warn the palace we have a parrot incoming. Will it be going to California with us?”

I eyed the shelter volunteer, who also happened to be a vet with over thirty years of experience making sure animals found their new forever homes. “Can she handle a flight to California?”

“She does not have any known diseases, and outside of anxiety and stress due to having lost her bonded human, she is healthy. Once she settles, her feathers will grow back; we’ve been taking precautions and giving her a mix of medication and magic to prevent the permanent loss of her plumage. Now is the time to warn you that this bird is going to be your companion for the rest of your life. She might even outlive you, though honestly, by the time you’re old, she’ll also be old, and she won’t survive such grief again. She’s still pretty young, but losing her owner has been difficult for her.”

I could tell. I risked my fingers and rubbed the bird’s chest, which had a scattering of feathers here and there. “What type of parrot is she? I’ll need to get another one or two so she isn’t alone.”

“That is going to be a problem,” the vet informed me.

I heaved a sigh, checked the man’s name tag, and decided to go with informal in the hopes of making the exchange more pleasant for both of us. “Hit me with it, Domingo. What’s the problem?”

“Isla is a kakapo, which is an endangered species. She was smuggled into the Royal States as a hatchling, stolen from a conservatory. We’ve been in talks with the conservatory about her case, and we notified them that you would be coming to see our animals. Due to her status and condition, they don’t want to fly her back to New Zealand until she is more recovered, and she’s adapted to captivity. If you want her, you can have her, but finding her a partner would be difficult at best.”

Right. “Can you contact New Zealand about loaning a male to us? Losing a breeding female if they’re endangered is a big deal.”

Domingo smiled. “I am sure we can make an arrangement of some sort to help preservation of the species, although you will have to go to New Zealand to breed her. These birds have, ah, communal breeding practices, so the males all gather and perform for interested females, and the females then decide which lucky male gets a chance to procreate. Of course, I was not expecting Isla to take to you right away, but I had given you her favorite treat.”

“We have something in common, Isla. We both like mango,” I informed the bird, and I took care with giving her another petting. “Is she a talking parrot?”

“No, kakapo can’t talk. She’ll never be able to fly, although she can glide for short distances at a rather steep angle. Her breed has evolved to be strong runners, and she has powerful legs as a result. I’ll give you the contact information for the conservatory in New Zealand, that way you can talk to them directly about her care. She is overly used to being caged, so you’ll have to teach her to be more willing to be out and about. She is not a fan of larger cages, which is unfortunate. I recommend a mid-sized parrot cage for your bedroom and an aviary within the palace so she can have room to play in her native environment. I am certain you’ll be able to import some plants and things native to New Zealand for the effort. They’ll help. The conservatory is keen on New York becoming involved with conservation, although them being lek breeders is a problem in terms of breeding Isla.”

Right. My sister had a reputation, and I would earn one in short order. “We’re going to be as bad as Texas within a year.”

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