Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Just breathe.
Stand up straight.
Don’t fidget. Don’t pass out.
Aila wasn’t worried. Luciana would handle all the talking, which meant she just had to stand there. Just an interview. Just cameras. Just the biggest news network in the country.
Aila had lost her mind, agreeing to this.
She led the way onto the phoenix exhibit more as habit than confidence, Luciana following. Rubra and Carmesi perched on separate olive trees, not cozy, but no more fights thanks to Luciana’s regimen of supervised visits. The past week had been a wake-up call, realizing how much Aila’s nerves had bled into her birds. When she relaxed around the two of them, their temperaments mellowed dramatically.
Now, Aila slipped on a fireproof glove, careful not to chip her nail polish. The hair draping her shoulders caught in the high glove edge. Rubra hopped onto her fist without fuss, but once Aila had both jesses in a safe grip, her fidgeting drew a cluck from the phoenix.
Aila stilled, her stomach in knots. Luciana had proposed they bring the birds to the interview. A horrible idea. What if they misbehaved? What if they fought? What if—?
“Calm,” Luciana said, soft. Carmesi perched on her glove with head cocked, but otherwise at ease. “For Rubra’s sake. Show her there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Cameras and people were plenty to be afraid of, but Aila forced the tension from her shoulders. She thought back to warm air on her scalp, Luciana’s fingers delicate in her hair.
Rubra’s feathers relaxed. She chirped in affection and nibbled the button of Aila’s polo. If Rubra believed Aila could do this, she’d give it her best shot.
Just breathe. Just don’t trip. Just stand there and smile.
This time, Aila let the PR Director lead the way. Luciana stepped onto the public walkway with a dazzling smile, black hair glossy against her shoulders, Carmesi a jewel of fire and gold on her glove. A crowd of patrons shifted from the observation window, phones raised for pictures of the firebirds up close.
“No flash, please,” Luciana said in that dulcet public tone, at once kind and commanding. She paused on the pathway, allowing the visitors a moment to enjoy the animals.
Aila stood at her side, tiny beside such confidence. If she could hold her head half as high as Luciana… but with that inspiration, she did stand taller than usual. On her glove, Rubra fluffed her feathers, then preened. The crowd pressed closer for photos, enraptured.
As they should be. Despite her nerves, Aila couldn’t help but smile, seeing Rubra’s popularity. Her beautiful bird, a star.
Most visiting interviewers had come to the phoenix exhibit, the patio of the keeper complex, all convenient places. Not the Movasi National News. Insisting on the optimal lighting and backdrop, the film crew set up on a sunny swath of path downhill from the building. Olive trees flanked landscaped rocks, opening onto a background of grape arbors and the giant metal phoenix above the exhibit entrance.
When Aila saw the cameras, her legs wobbled.
She walked the final distance as if drifting on air and wallowing in mud at the same time. Her throat tightened, harassed by dry Movasi air and spring pollen. On her glove, Rubra cocked an inquisitive eye. Breathe, Aila. Relax. Focus.
“Good afternoon!” A smiling reporter stepped forward to meet them. “Angel Aguirre, they/them, Movasi National News. Thanks so much for having us here today.” Their skin was light brown and they were dressed in a maroon button-down with slacks. They wore their dark hair wavy on one side, shaved on the other, displaying phoenix earrings straight out of the gift shop.
“Luciana Reyes. A pleasure to meet you in person, Mx. Aguirre.” Luciana shook their hand, balancing a phoenix on the other with remarkable ease. Aila, not trusting herself, hoped a nod would suffice.
“The pleasure’s all mine!” The reporter gave Aila a whitened grin. They had some of the smoothest makeup foundation she’d ever seen. “And you must be the legendary phoenix keeper? Aila Macbhairan?”
“I’m…” Aila squeaked. Cleared her throat. “ Legendary? ”
Angel laughed like it was a joke. Luciana joined, so Aila forced herself to mimic. If anything, follow the expert’s lead.
The camera crew had a dizzying amount of equipment, from giant lenses on tripods to poles with fuzzy microphones, surrounded by reflective panels and blinding stand-lights (as if the sun wasn’t bright enough). One crew member fiddled with the camera. Another untangled a nest of extension cords, and… Oh, great, of course Director Hawthorn was here. He met Aila with a pat on the shoulder.
“Look at these two, some of the zoo’s finest! Delighted to have you showcasing our birds today. I know you’ll do our institution proud.”
Luciana picked up the idle chat with ease, discussing the excellent camera weather, the zoo’s phoenix merchandise. Aila contributed a nod at intervals, words fading to a background drone as she watched the crowd behind the cameras. Dozens of eyes. The afternoon sun, the glaring lights, left her skin hot and clammy. She moved in a haze as a cameraman fitted her with a microphone, then led her to stand on an X of tape on the ground.
Relax. Breathe. Don’t faint. Aila clenched her gloved fist, trying not to shake, certain Rubra would feel every movement.
Luciana stepped onto her own X beside her. To all outward appearances? Perfectly relaxed, perfectly loving the spotlight. She held Carmesi on her glove like it was nothing. Meanwhile, Rubra seemed to have tripled in weight, threatening to drag Aila down.
The camera crew assumed their posts. The reporter stood off camera, straightening the microphone on their collar.
“Focus on Rubra,” Luciana whispered.
“What?” Aila croaked.
“If you’re nervous, focus on Rubra. Think about how much you care about her. How beautiful she is. How excited you are that the world gets to see her.”
A sliver of bitterness crept back, listening to how easy Luciana made everything sound. Of course Aila cared about Rubra. Of course she was thrilled to see all these cameras pointed at her bird, these people lining up for a closer look. Had eight-year-old Aila been in that crowd, she’d have pushed herself to the front, wide-eyed in awe.
Eight-year-old Aila would have also crumpled in glee at the knowledge she’d one day hold a real phoenix on her arm. For a moment, Aila lost herself in the black of Rubra’s eyes, inspecting the open sky and wind-touched olive trees. She watched the rise and fall of crimson breast feathers, the flicker of flame along her tail.
The reporter stepped into place. Straightened their shirt. Tacked on a smile.
Behind the camera, a man counted down with fingers. Three . Two . One .
“Good afternoon! Angel Aguirre, Movasi National News, reporting today from our sunny capital of San Tamculo. Here, a heart-warming story of persistence and compassion, a mission to save the stunning Silimalo phoenix from extinction. On the front lines, our own San Tamculo National Zoo. With me today is Luciana Reyes, Public Relations Director for the phoenix breeding program. And Aila Macbhairan, head phoenix keeper.”
Hearing her name sent a shock through Aila’s spine. Her. On camera. A microphone scratched her collar, wire hidden beneath her shirt.
Luciana smiled on cue. “We’re delighted to have you with us at the zoo today, and to introduce you to our two phoenixes.”
Aila nodded. Good. Let Luciana talk. Horns and fangs, how did she pull this off on a regular basis? The woman deserved a medal.
“Beautiful birds, indeed!” Angel said. “And who have you brought with you today?”
“This is Carmesi, our male Silimalo phoenix.” Luciana tilted Carmesi on her glove, showcasing his gilded neck feathers to the camera. “And Aila has brought out Rubra, our beautiful female.”
Angel nodded. “Now, as I understand it, Rubra has had a home here in San Tamculo for quite a while?”
“That’s right. And Aila has worked with her for several years.” Luciana dropped a glance to Aila, which she assumed was a cue to smile. Aila did so, careful not to bare her teeth too wide.
“And Carmesi,” Angel continued, “transferred from the Jewel-port Zoo after the tragic loss of their female phoenix. Can you walk us through the past several months? How San Tamculo has stepped up to lead the phoenix breeding program here in Movas?”
“Absolutely. Our sympathies go out to the Jewelport Zoo. Their keepers have shown such dedication to preserving these phoenixes from extinction, and we’re honored to continue their work here at San Tamculo. Carmesi came to our zoo about a month ago, after a thorough evaluation by IMWS inspectors…”
True to her promise, Aila kept her mouth shut. She let Luciana speak. The glamor queen knocked it out of the park. Even Aila found herself enraptured by Luciana’s sympathetic tale of phoenixes on the brink, the hours of hard work sacrificed by dedicated keepers, the hope of seeing a new clutch of baby phoenixes in Movas’ own capital. The handsome bird on Luciana’s hand helped, as eye-catching as she was.
Just how long were these interviews supposed to last? Angel asked question after question, a pleasant chat beneath the burning sun. In all the haste of getting painted like a doll, Aila had neglected sunscreen. As she felt herself burning, her arm lagged beneath Rubra’s weight. A light bird, but over time, even a few pounds was exhausting.
“And Aila?”
Aila stiffened at the shock of her name. When she blinked the world back into focus, Angel had turned to her with a pointed look, that dazzling camera smile.
No. That couldn’t be. Aila wasn’t supposed to talk.
Yet no one else was talking. Something flickered over Luciana’s face, unease tinting her picturesque smile. The reporter stared Aila down, expectant.
Horns and fucking fangs.
“Y-yes?” Aila said.
“As head keeper for the phoenix exhibit, how have the pair been getting along? We’ve heard some visitors were concerned about a little squabble a week ago?”
“Oh. That.” Aila’s heart hit like a hammer. Her legs bowed. “I’m sure Luciana could answer just as well.”
“Nonsense!” Angel said. “You’re the primary caretaker for these birds, aren’t you? Please, we’re eager to hear your insights!”
Aila’s ears buzzed. She stared over the cameras, the lights, the horde of patrons with phones raised. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Not again. Please, not again.
Not in front of everyone.
“Well…” she squeaked. “That was… um…”
She couldn’t do it. She’d lost her mind, letting Luciana talk her into this. Aila belonged inside, hidden away, not floundering in the spotlight. Everyone was going to see her fail. Everyone was going to—
Beside her, Luciana laughed.
In the back of Aila’s mind, she recalled a cackle from the back of a classroom—a slash of sound that cut raw into her chest. This, instead, was light. Playful. A chuckle off painted lips, bright as the sunny afternoon.
“Please, you’ll have to excuse us,” Luciana said. “We’ve had several hectic weeks. It’s left us all a little frazzled.”
Angel joined the laugh. “I can imagine! It sounds like you’ve all been working non-stop. I’d be plenty frazzled, too.”
They looked to Aila again, not with the derision she expected, but empathy. The humming in Aila’s ears receded. Her legs wobbled, but she caught them before they gave out.
Laugh, Luciana had said. Just laugh. Make everything less scary.
Aila’s chuckle came out dry, but it washed more tension off her shoulders than expected. “Yeah, that must be it.”
“You should have seen her preparing for the inspection,” Luciana said. “Hardly sleeping, poor thing. Up all night studying flashcards on phoenix biology.”
“Is that right?” Angel asked.
Aila nodded.
“As for the phoenixes,” Luciana said, seamless. “Yes, there’s been some tension, as expected. Nothing out of the ordinary, considering…”
While Luciana spoke, Aila breathed.
For the moment, she’d survived, but she felt no less like a merlion out of water. Luciana spoke with such poise, such passion. Then here came Aila bumbling like a child. What news network wanted to hear that?
They wanted to hear from a phoenix keeper.
Aila buried her attention on Rubra. The phoenix sat prim on her glove, amused by the commotion, but unflustered. She’d spent her life in front of cameras and crowds. So had Aila, for the past three years. Why, then, did they still frighten her? This was her phoenix, her program. The world deserved to know how wonderful both were.
Before she knew it, Aila felt a terrible idea blooming. Insane. Doomed to failure.
“We’ve made great improvements, too,” Aila said. “With introducing the phoenixes to each other.”
She’d timed her reply to a break in the conversation, but Luciana still shot startled eyes. Don’t do that. As if this wasn’t scary enough.
Angel perked up. “What sort of improvements?”
“Well.” Aila’s voice shook. She breathed in. Looked at Rubra. Focused on firm concrete beneath her boots. “Territorial disputes are to be expected. This is, you know… Rubra’s home.”
Another deep breath. She should have put on sunscreen. Her cheeks were on fire.
“And female phoenixes tend to be more territorial than males.” Aila pictured her flashcards. “But in the past week, both phoenixes have grown more at ease with each other. As you can see.”
The calm birds were evidence to that point. Hopefully, viewers were more focused on the phoenixes.
Luciana wasn’t. Her proud grin sent Aila’s heart spiraling.
“You’ve good reason to be proud of your work,” Angel said. “But, Aila, I’m sure our viewers are dying to know—what got you interested in phoenixes to begin with?”
Wait. That wasn’t fair. Aila had to answer more questions?
“Interested in phoenixes? Why wouldn’t I be? They’re…”
And then, the words came easier. Aila pictured herself as a little girl, her first time gazing up at the metal phoenix marking the exhibit, her nose pressed to the glass of the window while her classmates chatted about lunch and chased one another around the pavilion.
“When I was a kid,” Aila said, “I… I guess I fell in love with the idea of sharing this world with such beautiful creatures. To me, that was always… magic.” She looked to Rubra, who stared back with wide, glossy eyes. “To think of living in a world without this beauty, without all this amazing diversity, seems tragic. Dull. There’s so much we can do to keep these birds here with us, to make sure people in the future will get to enjoy them, too.”
As Aila spoke, the strangest thing happened. Her voice shook less. Her legs firmed beneath her. It felt like jumping into a current and letting it carry her, instead of thrashing the whole way down.
“And what about the rest of the world?” Angel asked. “People eager to see your beautiful phoenixes, but unable to visit San Tamculo themselves? Do you have any plans for reinstating the live camera program, like at the Jewelport Zoo?”
The mention of that damned camera struck Aila with immediate ire. Familiar arguments flooded her head. Why did they need it? Why couldn’t people appreciate the phoenixes without making them a spectacle?
But as she looked over the crowd, Aila saw something different—something in the phoenix shirts and face paint she’d noticed around the zoo in recent days, something bright on the faces of the patrons who’d gathered to see her birds. Amazement. Awe. Appreciation. The same things Aila had felt while watching the Jewelport camera every morning.
Skies and seas, how had she been so stubborn? So caught up in her own misgivings?
“Well, I think that would be… an excellent idea.” The moment she said it, excitement coursed through her. “Yes. For sure. We’ve been discussing our options for a camera, and I think now that the phoenixes are feeling more comfortable, we should move forward.”
Angel smiled from ear to ear and faced the main camera. “There you heard it, a Movasi National News exclusive! I’m sure we’ll all be eagerly awaiting the camera launch. Ladies, this is all the time we have for today. Thank you for sharing your stunning phoenixes with us.”
A few more pleasantries wrapped up the interview. The crowd clapped. A technician unwound Aila from her microphone wires, then she was released back into her native habitat, the quiet of the phoenix complex. When she returned Rubra to the exhibit, the weight off her arm left an ache she’d be feeling for days.
One interview, survived. A horrendous experience, and Aila would rather swim with the kraken than go through that again. But she did it. Weak-legged, anxious Aila did it.
“Your ma is going to be beside herself,” Tanya said, pulling her into another rib-crushing hug. “By tomorrow, she’ll have a screenshot of that interview printed out and pinned on the fridge. Right next to that picture of you and Tourmaline in matching sweaters.”
Aila had no doubt of that.
As afternoon chores wound to a close, Aila plopped into her chair at the observation window to watch Rubra and Carmesi, hoping a little quiet time would stop her fingers from buzzing. The birds perched on separate branches, unfazed by their public excursion, dozing in the warm afternoon. Aila always knew Rubra was a star, but Carmesi tolerated the limelight even better. More used to it, after being at Jewelport.
The door clicked open, too early for Tanya to be back from feeding her aviary.
A few weeks ago, the sight of Luciana striding across the linoleum would have put a pucker on Aila’s face. Now, she grinned.
“All done with Movasi National News?”
Luciana sighed like a normal, tired human and pulled up a chair. “All done. For now. With how much Angel was gushing about this story, I’m sure they’ll be back for a follow-up.”
“Great. You can handle that one on your own.”
“Why?”
“I think I’m done with interviews for a few months. Years. Possibly forever.”
“But, Aila, you did great .”
Aila laughed at that. Luciana didn’t. “Wait. You’re serious?”
“Of course I’m serious.” Luciana leaned back in her chair, arms crossed in that prissy, self-confident way. “You said you weren’t even going to speak, then you gave Angel some of their best soundbites.”
Aila’s cheeks warmed. She studied her hands splayed on the counter. “No way. Everything you said was way more eloquent.”
“But yours came from the heart.”
“Yeah. I tend to ramble sometimes. Sorry. Hope it didn’t come out too nerdy.”
“What do you mean?” Luciana’s brow arched. “People love that.”
Aila’s thoughts flitted to Connor—his bored expression when she drowned him in tangents. “Not everyone.”
“That’s ridiculous. It’s impressive, how passionate you are about your work. I think you could inspire a lot of people, if you shared even a little bit of it.”
Aila had heard a lot more nice things than usual out of Luciana’s mouth the past couple of weeks. Didn’t make them any easier to process. Especially when so many people’s eyes glazed over the moment Aila started ranting about her passions.
“You… really think so?”
Aila’s heart stilled when Luciana leaned closer. Exploded when their shoulders bumped.
“Stop being such a dork,” Luciana said. “I’m proud of you. I’ve… been proud of you for a long time. Impressed by how much you care about your birds.” She frowned, as uncomfortable with this sincerity as Aila was. “You were just too obnoxious to admit that to. But since we seem to be turning over a new leaf…”
Aila’s heart raced faster than it had during the interview. Silence, her usual retreat, felt painful. The moment too real.
“Thank you for pushing me out of my comfort zone.” Aila had to admit it at some point. Might as well get it out of the way while they were being mushy.
Luciana chuckled. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think it would be such a huge leap.”
“Maybe I needed it.” Aila tapped her fingers on the counter, uncomfortable looking anywhere else. “And please, teach me how to curl my hair on my own. It feels amazing.” The coils still bounced against her cheeks like her own personal clouds.
“Aila…” Luciana’s voice came cautious.
Too friendly? Backtrack. Abort. “Sure, I mean, not right now! We’re both so busy. But maybe later—”
Luciana clamped a hand on Aila’s shoulder. “Aila. Look! ”
She followed Luciana’s pointing finger into the phoenix exhibit. Rubra sat on an olive branch, cheeks puffed.
Carmesi had landed on the branch above her.
He approached with caution, head tilted to watch Rubra’s reaction. When she didn’t burst into squawks, he took another step, until he perched above her.
Aila didn’t breathe. Beside her, Luciana sat equally still.
Carmesi plucked a single olive leaf in his bill. He pondered it a moment, chewing it back and forth with his tongue. Then, in one smooth motion, he rolled off the branch and hung upside down from his feet, tail sprayed into a fiery fan, wings tight at his sides. He clucked, waving the olive leaf in Rubra’s face.
Rubra watched, stone-still. Carmesi fluttered his wings, a flash of ruby and tangerine and gold, then back to folded.
“Luciana,” Aila whispered, unable to tear her eyes away.
“Aila.”
“That’s a bonding dance.”
“I know.”
“It’s a bonding dance , Luciana.”
“ I know .”
They leaned forward as Carmesi ceased swaying, his leaf held out in offering. Rubra sat unmoved, cheeks puffed to maximum fluff.
She plucked the leaf in her beak. Carmesi relinquished it with a purr.
Aila squealed behind the observation window.
She leapt from her chair, too bubbly to sit still, overflowing like popped champagne. Unable to contain her enthusiasm, she threw herself onto the closest person: Luciana. Aila wrapped her former nemesis into a giggling hug. In her delight, she hardly registered the oddity of Luciana hugging her back, laughing in equal glee.
“We did it!” Aila exclaimed. “ We did it! ”
“We’re just getting started,” Luciana countered with a smile.