Editing Birdie of the Tower (section)

==Next Day==
Here's the refined and expanded version of the story, integrating the chest, its placement, and the tiger’s arrival.  

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She had been called Birdie so long she barely remembered the name her mother gave her.  

She sat in the window of her little garret, looking out over the vast eastern ocean of Amber. Her tower room was small, one of four on this floor of a lesser-used tower on the east side of Castle Amber. The other three chambers had long since been abandoned. No one wished to live on the same floor as her, nor on the two floors below, nor in the attic chamber above. But to her, the solitude was bliss.  

Her window gave her a view unlike the one from her childhood. In Tazilwere, there were two moons and few stars. In Amber, there was a single, bright moon and an endless cascade of stars. If she ever needed a reminder that she was on another world, all she had to do was look out her window.  

A gray cat climbed onto her lap just as a brown one was about to claim the spot. The gray licked its paw as if it had never intended to leap at all, feigning nonchalance.  

Above her, perched on the window sill, the trio of colorful songbirds from Diaga chirped softly. Flora had once adored them, and whenever she came for tea, she brought them special seeds from distant shadows. Though they serenaded her in gratitude, in their hearts, they belonged to Birdie.  

The chamber itself was a curious mix of modesty and grandeur. Across the small room stood a grand, oversized bed, its rich engravings and towering posts seeming wholly out of place in such a tiny space. It had once belonged to a Queen of Amber and the King of the Multiverse. For centuries, it had served as their marital bed, the place where a queen bore two princes and a princess. Its current owner, however, rarely thought of this. She had been given the bed long ago, a gift from a king who seldom remembered his servants but was gracious when he did.  

Lying in their designated corner, watching her with knowing eyes, were the two ancient mastiffs that had once ridden to war a thousand times beside their master. When Great Oberon replaced his dogs and his queen, he also replaced his bed—passing the old one to the room where his mastiffs most often slept. In those days, Birdie had only a soldier's cot.  

She remembered the day the bed had been brought in. The maids had made it up as they always had, treating it with the reverence due a noble lady’s chamber. The mastiffs had taken their place in their familiar corner. That night, when she attempted to sleep in her cot, the two great hounds growled menacingly. Alarmed, she had stepped back, fearing they had turned on her. Instead, they had torn the cot to pieces, then climbed into their own corner of the room and watched her expectantly. Only when she cautiously slipped under the covers of the grand bed did they lower their silver-tipped heads and sleep.  

There were other oddities in the chamber. On one wall sat an old wooden chest, about three feet long, two feet tall, and one foot wide. It was heavy, locked with sturdy brass padlocks on either side, and had never been moved except for cleanings. It had been brought by Oberon himself, who had asked her if he could leave it there. She had agreed without question, and she had never once considered opening it. It was his, not hers.  

Above the bed’s canopy, birds and cats lay nestled in comfort. The canopy’s fabric remained miraculously clean—her friends were polite enough to relieve themselves elsewhere. She chuckled, recalling the one time she had asked them to foul the office of the Chief Librarian when he had banned the servants from the library except for one day a week. Dame Margot had stood toe-to-toe with the old man when he demanded to know why all the cats were leaving gifts in his study. “I couldn’t guess,” she had said, though she didn’t need to. She had calmly informed him that the staff should be allowed to read as they always had. He had relented, and the cats had ceased their mischief.  

At the foot of the bed, on the floor, rested two ancient cats: a regal tabby once belonging to Julian and a sleek black-and-green feline that had been Fiona’s. They rarely left the chamber except to take their meals with Dame Margot and to lounge in the Sea View gardens in the evenings. They, like the others, had once thought themselves rulers of the castle—until Prince Arloxedra arrived with his companion Cat. That day, they had rolled onto their backs like all the other castle cats, acknowledging the newcomer’s dominance.  

Birdie rose and descended the winding stairwell, leaving a disgruntled cat in the window. On the 13th floor of the small tower, she set out plates. Animals filtered in from all corners of the castle, each knowing that Birdie would summon food four times a day. Though Dame Margot and others fed them as well, they liked Birdie best.  

The feeding followed an order. Cats first. Then the dogs—Clarissa’s three powder-puffs in brown, yellow, and green, followed by the two dachshunds that had once belonged to a long-departed maidservant. Then the others: the black pig who no longer feared becoming bacon, the goat that had once followed Eric around, the lizards, the turtles, the birds.  

It was then that a new guest emerged. A long, sinuous snake slithered out from the warm rocks of the turtle land and coiled around her arm.  

“Oh? Really? I have not met her yet. Oh, I’m sure she is lovely if she adores such a fine friend as you.” Birdie stroked the snake’s smooth scales. “You are welcome here anytime, Cicero.”  

The two spent a peaceful hour together, the snake curled in her lap, Birdie dozing lightly as the first hues of dawn touched the sea.  

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**A Different Day**  

It was near dusk when Birdie sensed the presence outside her door.  

When she opened it, she found herself staring into golden eyes. A tiger—a massive, regal beast with deep orange fur and bold black stripes—stood in the dim hallway, its tail flicking. Despite its size, there was no menace in its gaze.  

Birdie met many animals, but few looked at her with the eyes of an equal.  

The tiger dipped its head in greeting. "You are Birdie," it rumbled, its voice rich and deep.  

She nodded, unperturbed. "And you are unexpected."  

The great beast chuckled, stepping past her into the chamber. The other animals, sensing its presence, watched but did not flee. The mastiffs rose, their ears twitching, but they did not bare their teeth.  

“I serve Princess Anastasia of Regor,” the tiger said. “But I wished to meet you.”  

The tiger circled once before settling beside her. The mastiffs lay down near him, their great heads resting on their paws. The birds, emboldened, returned to their perches, and the cats resumed their lounging spots.  

Birdie moved to the corner, where a large harp stood. Its frame was old, but the strings sang true. She plucked a note, then another, letting the melody rise.  

The animals listened, their breathing steady, their eyes half-closed in contentment.  

The tiger, his voice softer now, spoke again. “I think I shall visit often.”  

Birdie smiled and continued to play.