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“No!” I yelled, grabbing a cushion as the little yellow git aimed for me. I curled myself into the smallest ball possible as Chewy bounced off the cushion I was using as a shield and came in again. “William! Do something!”
“Chewy! Leave her alone!” He covered me with his body, and it felt like he was waving his hands in the air at the bird. “James, help!”
“On it.”
I screamed as Chewy’s feet scraped across the side of my hand, undoubtedly drawing blood. “Ow, you little fuck!”
“You bastard!” William moved, no longer covering me, and stood next to me on the sofa. He put another two cushions over me to protect me from the castle’s living alarm system, and I peeked through a gap to see him using another as a weapon against the bird, using it to swat Chewy away.
“Come here, you stupid bird,” a new voice said. “She’s not a ruddy intruder. S’cuse me, ma’am.”
A foot appeared on the cushion next to me.
“Intruder! Intruder!” Chewy yelled, still flapping above me. “Troll in the kitchen!”
“Gotcha!”
The flapping stopped, but it was replaced with a wail that sounded like a catfight, to be honest.
I pulled the cushion down and peered over the top of it. “Is it safe?”
A cage door clanged shut, and the man whose foot had appeared next to me smiled. “He’s contained, ma’am. Sorry about that.”
“I’d say don’t worry about it, but please do. He’s starting to make a habit of that.” I glared at the bird. “And if you’re trying to quote Harry Potter, the troll was in the dungeon, not the kitchen.”
“Dungeon! Dungeeeeon!” Chewy hollered.
“Come on. Back to your room,” the unnamed man—also known as my hero—said, taking him out.
“That bird’s a bloody menace,” James said, watching as he went.
“No kidding.” I sucked the cut on my hand. “He’s got some claws on him.”
“Are you all right?” William asked, reaching for my hand. “Do you need something on that?”
“It’s a scratch, not a broken bone. I’ll be fine.” I smiled. “But thank you.”
“At least we can tick that off the bingo card,” he said brightly.
I glared at him.
“What bingo card?” James asked, looking at us like we had two heads each.
William and I shared a look, and he shook his head. “Never mind. Although I do owe Freya fifty quid now.”
“What for?” James laughed.
“We had a bet on whether or not Chewy would attack Grace again. I lost.”
My jaw dropped. “Youbeton that bird attacking me? You arsehole!”
“It was a—ahhh!” He fell sideways on the sofa as I beat him with the cushion that had just protected my face from the bird. “Ow, ow, ow! Stop! Grace!”
“No!” I kept whacking him with it—his arm, his shoulder, his legs, everywhere. “You dick!”
James laughed, walking out of the room. “I’m leaving you to that.”
“Arsehole!” I hit William again, and he did an about turn, grabbing hold of the cushion and wrenching it from my grip. “Give that back!”
