Lishinia couldn’t tell if she was having a no good, awful day, or a wonderfully fortuitous one.

  Surely the count would fix everything! The Fern house was as loyal to the crown as the crown was to the Fern house - that is to say, it wasn’t.

  After arranging for the horses to be returned, Lish entered Oak Lilly to find her charge.

  It was a point in her favour that she didn’t take the stairs two at a time. She wanted to be there when Count Valin ran the knight commander out of their house and into the freezing cold, so imagine her joy when the door opened even before she’d reached the parlor, and Bastian walked out alone.

  Well, not alone. He was followed shortly by Malory.

  “Ah! Perfect timing.” Malory waved her closer, “Lish, please serve Their Excellencies while I bring the Knight Commander to The Acorn Suite.”

  Whatever excitement had gripped the maid’s heart dropped out of her chest. The knight wasn’t being thrown out... though he wasn’t being welcomed either.

  The Acorn Suite was reserved for anyone whom the Fern’s wanted to politely torture under the mask of comfort and hospitality. It was named The Acorn Suite because everything, from the bed to the hardback chairs to the side table and wardrobe, had been carved with intricate acorn shapes and oak leaves. One of the things that made it special was that The Acorn Suite shared a wall with the counts office and another wall with the head’s bedroom, making it the coldest room in the entire tree. The windows faced due east, and the room was high enough that it caught the first rays of light from a fantastic sunrise... that hit the well-placed mirrors and white painted walls, brightening the place as if it were under a summer midday sun as early as 5:58 in the morning.

  Not only that, but the bed was lavishly carved hardwood with a goose feather mattress encased in Balthorn Cotton - so soft and fluffy, yet overly stabby from the uncut feather stems.

  It served the drakin right.

  Lishinia slipped past Sir Bastian and Malory and quietly entered the parlor. Father and daughter sat beside each other, and the count breathed out a long sigh as Lish shut the door behind her.

  Count Valin dropped his head into his hands. “How did this happen…”

  Peregrine hesitated, but lifted a hand and placed it on his shoulder, comforting him.

  As much as the count adored the young miss, they so rarely got to see each other or spend time together outside of their silent breakfast routine.

  “I was going to marry someone,” Peregrine reasoned, putting on a smile for the count. It broke Lishinia’s heart to see it, and the maid hurried to refill the glasses to distract herself. Anything to busy herself and fight off tears. Peregrine continued, “And if this can help Sumbria then–”

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  “No,” Her father stated firmly, looking up from his hands with a fierce determination. The count stood to face his daughter and declared, “To the depths with Sumbria and the royal family. We’ll not let you go without a fight. Why, we’ll join the rebellion! The Glades have ruled in tyranny long enough! I’ll send word to–”

  “You can’t!” Peregrine jumped to her feet as well, grabbing her father’s hands in a panic.

  “I can!” Her father countered. “And I will!”

  “Father, please - see reason.” Peregrine shook her head. “This isn’t worth plunging the country into civil war, and you know that’s what would happen! Besides, mother is still trapped at the palace… All I need to do is spend a year in Peldeep setting up the embassy and then I’ll be right back to visit. You won’t even notice I’m gone!”

  “You really think that?” Count Valin’s face fell; soft and sorrowful.

  “I...” Peregrine didn’t look like she knew what to do with her upset father, but she squared her shoulders. “That’s not– what I meant was that I’ve accepted this marriage. Peldeep has accepted this marriage, and the royals have a copy of the signed contract–”

  “--a contract I haven’t even seen–” Count Valin complained.

  “--and I am hoping that you’ll accept Bastian’s suit as well.” Peregrine finished. She attempted a smile but it was pinched.

  The count looked ready to refuse, but Peregrine added a gentle, “Please?” and her father gave in.

  “Alright.” His shoulders sagged and he looked ready to curl up in a corner until mushrooms sprouted from his back and nature reclaimed him.

  “Thank you father!” Peregrine just looked relieved that the argument was over. She was trapped between so many decisions, poor thing, and Lish didn’t know how to help her.

  Unless she poisoned Bastian. Maybe she could do it before the wedding…

  Count Valin drew in a deep breath, “Just promise me that you’ll be safe.”

  “I will,” Peregrine nodded, “I’ll have Lish there with me, and I won’t go out without an escort. If anything happens, I’ll leverage my treaty with Their Royal Highness, and I’ll buy fresh Health and Mana Potions, and stock up on Antidotes. I won’t get poisoned again, but if I do I’ll be ready– and I’ll take the forest route back home to visit–”

  “Poisoned Again?” The count went from depressed mushroom to winter storm in a second, ice streaking back out across the floor and condensation puffing white breath from his lips.

  Mr Sniffles was not impressed, lifting sleepy eyes to observe it's now cold napping spot on the counts shoes. It grumbled a bit but stood up, so Peregrine scooped it up onto her own lap.

  “Ah, well, yes.” Peregrine looked like she was caught shooting arrows in the back garden instead of attending afternoon herbology. She’d only skipped once, and then been grounded to the underbrush weeding the western fern and picking a basket full of goldenseal berries.

  Goldenseal stems only bore one berry, so that had taken her the better part of a week.

  “Peregrine.” Even Lish felt a chill when the count used that tone of voice.

  And so Peregrine told her father what had happened on her trip to North Sumbria; the attack on the road, the Afternoon Tea and the Spring Ball - poisoning and all. Some things Lish herself didn’t even know.

  The thought that her mistress would be going forth into that world again made her teeth hurt… maybe Bastian would need a good poisoning much sooner.