You cannot simply rescue an entire hidden village of avian beast-kins and then send them back to a compromised cave.
By the time the sun rose the next morning, Caspian had officially declared the lower eastern gardens of our cliffside estate a temporary sanctuary for Juni’s flock. We had set up massive, airy canvas pavilions, and Orion had gleefully spent the entire night using earth-magic to build a beautiful, shallow bathing pool for the elders and the ducklings.
I spent the morning doing what I did best: feeding an army.
I hauled three massive baskets of warm, honey-glazed oats, fresh berries, and sweet breads down the stone steps toward the pavilions. The avian beast-kins were polite and incredibly grateful, but they were also highly skittish. Every time Rurik laughed too loudly from the upper courtyard, half the flock flinched.
"They are recovering from severe physiological shock," Cassian noted, standing beside me with a clipboard as he mentally tracked their magical output. "Though, their primary stressor does not appear to be the poachers anymore."
"No," I sighed, setting a basket down on a long wooden table. "They’re terrified of Lucien."
And honestly, who could blame them? The last time the flock had seen the Panther Warlord, he had materialized out of thin air and systematically dismantled a dozen heavily armed mercenaries in under sixty seconds, his violet eyes glowing with killing intent. To them, he wasn’t a hero; he was the Grim Reaper.
Suddenly, a heavy hush fell over the entire pavilion.
The low chatter of the flock died instantly. Mothers pulled their children behind their skirts. The village elders stiffened, their feathers puffing out in an instinctive display of fear.
I looked up toward the stone steps.
Walking down the path toward the gardens was Juni. She looked stunning, the morning sun catching the silver tips of her wings, her golden hair braided neatly over her shoulder.
And walking exactly half a step behind her, dressed in an immaculate, terrifyingly sharp black suit, was Lucien.
The flock parted like the Red Sea. No one dared to breathe. They stared at the Lord of Shadows with wide, panicked eyes, completely expecting him to draw his daggers.
Lucien noticed the fear instantly. His jaw tightened, and he deliberately slowed his pace, keeping his hands loosely clasped behind his back to show he wasn’t reaching for a weapon. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, a dark predator entirely out of his element in a camp of fragile prey.
"Juni!" An older Duck-kin woman with graying feathers hurried forward, completely ignoring the terrifying assassin to grab Juni’s hands. "You are walking! The Sovereign’s healers fixed your knee?"
"They did, Auntie Mae," Juni smiled warmly, squeezing the elder’s hands. "We are safe here. King Caspian has granted us protection."
Auntie Mae gave a shaky nod, but her eyes darted nervously to the tall, dark man standing silently behind Juni. "And... the Shadow Demon? Is he here to execute the prisoners?"
Lucien flinched almost imperceptibly at the title. He looked away, his violet eyes fixed on a nearby tree. He was used to being feared, but standing next to Juni, the title of "demon" clearly stung.
Before Juni could correct the elder, a very loud, very happy sound broke the tense silence.
Flap! Flap! Flap!
A tiny, bright yellow frog waddled out from behind a canvas tent. Pip had a piece of sweet bread in one hand and a shiny blue pebble in the other. He stopped in the middle of the path, blinking his large dark eyes at the massive crowd of silent bird-kins.
Then, he saw the dark suit.
Pip gasped, his gummy smile stretching across his chubby face. He dropped the sweet bread entirely.

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