It was the third day.
Two days had gone by since I saw Lord Aubrey last.
For the past three days, I had been monitored like a prisoner in a gilded cage. My meals came at the same time every day and every morning at first light a dozen maids filed into my room to prepare me for another day when I would see absolutely no one.
The sun was at its peak and the same grey pigeon landed on my window for the third time since I had gotten out of bed. It was my strange signal that lunch would arrive soon so I jumped up from bed and waited by the door.
I had spent the last few days talking to myself. To the birds that passed by. To any inanimate objects that could pass off as human.
Ever since the mating ritual, I had convinced myself that I would not converse with any of the maids. That I would
