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It was love at first sight. Madrigal had never seen Benno so smitten with anyone besides himself. He puffed himself up and strutted across the cage multiple times a day, ensuring Odile always had the best view of his lustrous feathers. The starbird herself didn't seem to mind. Though flattered, she paid more attention to the endless stream of people filtering through Madrigal's room.

Her presence attracted all manners of characters. First, it had been the ladies maids assigned to Madrigal, then the butlers and servants in passing, then the kitchen staff. She even drew Elio had been out of his quarters by the mention of the starbird. Since Odile had arrived, a large nighthawk had taken to sitting on Madrigal's balcony each night. Fearing for the star- and sunbirds' safety, Madrigal made sure to close the balcony doors before retiring to bed. 

Each time a new face appeared, Odile would chirrup a few times, the sounds seeming to hang and glitter in the air. If it had been any other bird, it would have become annoying. But Odile wasn't any other bird, and her chiming was a soothing part of the background, ever-present yet forgotten. Like a rain shower or the cries of the crickets during the balmy summer nights.

This had been Madrigal's life for the past two weeks, since Chiarina and Lord Luca had arrived. Imprisoned in her quarters with an ever-rotating cast of visitors. Morning to midday were Lady Lessons with Lady Danseur. Lessons revolved around the art of politics and the responsibilities as the wife of the future Danseur head.

Unlike her previous years of etiquette and small talk, Lady Lessons required a talent for deciphering laws and codes. Though Madrigal had mastered the art of a silver-tongue, she'd also relied on the mannerisms and behaviors of people to guide her forward. The slouch of a shoulder, the twist of a lip, the brush of a hand—all were obvious clues on how to persuade her target in that moment. 

But the scrawl of black-inked words on parchment were far less clear in their meaning. They couldn't convey the tone of a conversation or the sarcasm of a rival or the desires of an ally. Nor could they guarantee her own words' understanding or acceptance. Nor that the conversation would remain on the same mood after the third letter. 

Lady Lessons alone were a challenge, but coupled together with wedding planning, it was a blessing from the Saints that she hadn't fallen to pieces yet. Midday to midnight was Elio's domain. As the proclaimed expert on avant-garde, he had taken it upon himself to design the most exquisite wedding the Eighteen Famiglias had ever seen. Which meant spending two weeks coming up with a theme for the wedding rather than actually designing it. 

Madrigal reminded herself daily that he was not doing it out of malice. If she'd had a say in the matter, the wedding would be simple and full of light. A moonlit ceremony beneath the gazebo Allegro had proposed under, fireflies in glass jars lining the path. Guests would hold handheld candelabras, so that when she stepped down the aisle, a sea of light would greet her. At the end, chandeliers would surround the altar, basking her beloved and the speaker of the Saints in a holy, golden glow.

But Elio said she had the taste of a crone so her ideas were out of the question. If Allegro was around this wouldn't be so difficult. Since their guests' arrival, he'd spent every day in the library with Chiarina.

Madrigal had seen him twice in that period: once in passing, the second, the night of the arrival, during that awkward dinner. 

Chiarina was still in shock from the Rothbart painting when Lady Danseur had announced dinner. She hadn't spoken a word to Madrigal since the tour of the art gallery, and to make matters worse, she sat next to Allegro. Charming, friendly, blissfully unaware Allegro. As was his nature, he attempted to strike up a conversation with the Cavalier heiress and who ignored him.
Across from him, Madrigal had also had her fair share of failed dinner topics.