From brilliant vermillion to deepest violet, hand-dipped feathers began to rain over Plumeria Square. It was the day all of Aviana waited for with bated breath, the opening day of the mating season. Well all of Aviana except for Dido, in her dingy maintenance flock, she waited for opening day to be done.

Once she had a spark of excitement for the season when marriage-minded men competed for the attentions of eligible women. As a young woman, Dido had believed in all the sugar sweet stories of being wooed and courted. As she mended and adorned her late mother’s coming of age gown, Dido once dreamt of the fated love bond.

But after five seasons of not even a flutter of interest from a man she desired, Dido locked her love in a cedar chest with mother’s gown. Romance was for the beautiful and the fortunate, she decided. She was neither. In a nostalgic whim, Dido plucked a falling feather—iridescent indigo—from the air. Her fingers tingled and for a moment she was someone else. Well dressed ladies began to gather in groups of three or four. They admired their decorated faces in mirrors and fanned themselves excitedly. Tucking her newfound feather of blue black in her long brown braid, Dido swept the park.

A few gentlemen, real dandies, strutted by the gaggle of unmatched ladies. Dido worked around the girlish giggles. Despite the dandies’ bespoke suits and clever footwork, the ladies were really waiting for his royal highness, Prince Swenn, Scion of the Governing house, Blakewyn. Strumming musicians heralded the nobleman’s arrival. Dido moved away from the fray to continue cleaning.

Plumeria Square was one of Dido’s favorite places to read on crisp fall afternoon. Discarded fruit cores now littered its flower beds. Growing louder, the musicians’ gentle music took on a heavy rhythmic beat as the prince’s carriage rolled into the square.

Festooned in a rainbow of ribbons, Prince Swenn leapt from his carriage and twirled. Dido shrugged. Not a supporter of the Blakewyns, she’d voted for the other candidate family. Arms flapping, hips gyrating, the Prince flitted from woman to woman. For Lady Rabin, Prince Swenn cast aside his jacket and swiveled his pelvis. Dido thought he was light on his feet for a bigger guy but she was more concerned that he’d tossed his coat of many colors on the newly planted perennials. She weaved around the eager females flocking towards the leaping prince.

Picking up the prince’s coat, Dido inspected each plant in the bed. She gently unbent stems. In a week the manly dance proposals for this season would be over and her life would be quiet again among the roses.

“Pardon me,” a deep voice said behind her.

Dido was lost in her thoughts. The athletic dancing and fancy people trampling everything disappeared from her mind. After her maintenance shift, she needed to check in on Father and Mallie and finish grading those essays. Dido was weary just thinking of it.

“Milady?”

Turning Dido gave an absentminded “yes.” A glistening, heavy breathing Prince Swenn knelt before her his hand up. Startled she thrusted the coat at his offered palm. Effortlessly the prince grabbed her hand and pulled Dido to her feet.

“She said yes. May I present my betrothed, Lady umm,” Prince Swenn announced to a clearly stunned crowd.

Suddenly he drew her close and whispered in her ear. Dido couldn’t breathe. It was as if the edges of her vision went blurry.

“Quick your name.”

With a squeak, Dido fainted. Prince Swenn caught her before she hit the ground. He examined the unusual woman in his arms. She was dressed as a parks cleaner, decorated with a single feather, and after one appreciative glance his way concentrated instead on tending late blooming roses. His bride to be was fascinating.

“May I present my betrothed, Lady Damask of the House DarkFeather.”

Rose petals trailing behind them, Prince Swenn carried her towards the groundskeeper’s center to get smelling salts and find one of her colleagues to escort her home.