A Third Letter from a Bird
Dear Osiris,
I don't see the puppet often. He seems quite content with his job. I think I see your window from here too, but the person beside it is usually a maid. We are both very busy, I wonder when we can see each other through the window. If we do, I'll wave to you.
The puppet does look quite like us, but black is a common hair color and there are many others with yellow eyes. I suppose it's just a coincidence. Even if I asked the puppet, if it ever opened its mouth voluntarily, it wouldn't know. It's most likely just a slave bought for its pretty eyes and well-behaved personality.
Mother gave me another assignment today, but I've been confined, so I must postpone it. I feel like, recently, Mother has been more stressed. There seemed to be more creases on her perfect face, and I worry for her. We talk less recently, not that we talk too much before.
Speaking of being overworked, I keep getting nosebleeds. Yesterday, there was blood all over the floor, and I think I started coughing blood too. It ran for about an hour, then, in the morning, the servants cleaned it up. They made a big deal of making me rest today, but I feel like they just wanted to confine me more. Perhaps I'm just being delusional. They probably meant it with good intentions anyway.
The bird is still in its cage, and after a while, it gets hard to look at. It turns into an eyesore, it's white wings burning my eyes, compared to the sad and gloomy aura in the castle. It's like, when you hide in the dungeons too long, the sunlight starts burning your skin.
Am I slowly going insane?
Oh, well my nose is bleeding again.
A doctor was ordered to come. I'm surprised anyone even cares about me. You wanted to know about the puppet, right? It's here right now. I could take its blood and get a test, but I would need to go undercover. It would raise suspicion if the prince suddenly wanted to test their own blood with somebody else's.
The puppet almost feels like a real puppet. Its eyes are so hollow and it feels like it looks right through you. It just stands silently in the corner, unmoving.
I have nothing to do. I might sneak out today.
Your brother,
Easter.