“Is that everything?” Bastian asked, coming down the stairs with Count Valin. The count was carrying Mr Snifflesworth in his arms and looking stern, but had decided to take out his frustrations on the creature with unbridled hugging and head scratches.

  Below, two strapping maids set down a six foot long wooden box enforced with metal guard plating beside the rest of the luggage piled in the entryway. They would check everything twice and then store it into a spatial trunk for the trip. Lish was standing off to the side, writing everything down on a long parchment.

  Count Valin walked over and Lish held up the list for him to review.

  “Almost.” Peregrine tapped a finger against her chin as she considered what she might be missing. “It’s hard to pack when I haven’t seen my rooms yet.”

  She finally caught sight of her father and raised an eyebrow in shock. Bastian also wondered when the count might have gotten so close Mr Snifflesworth, but hadn't brought up the creature or their new relationship during his meeting upstairs.

  “Honestly, you can replace what you wish, or buy new in Peldeep.” Bastian said, trying to remember what was actually in her bedroom underneath his thread board, bolts of fabric, draft patterns, tools, or the miscellaneous bins of small wooden shapes, buckles, buttons, bows or trim… In a moment of brilliance that would probably save his marriage, Bastian leaned in and admitted. “I should probably mention that your rooms are not ready. At all.”

  “Do you mean they haven’t been swept in twenty years, they are empty, or they don’t exist?” Peregrine asked.

  “It means they are currently being used for storage, and I’ve talked us into a bit of a mess. We could’ve stayed at the Emerald Palace while we renovated… but I just told your queen, your parents, and the world that you would be staying safe and sound at my house.”

  “You did the right thing,” Peregrine said, understanding. “I’d rather sleep in a storage room for a month then live with three of the queen’s personal spies.”

  “No need for that. You can stay in my room–” He hurried to clarify. “Of course, I’ll sleep at the barracks or a guest room. Actually, I can put a bed in the nursery. Then I’ll be close in case you need me.”

  Peregrine stared at him for a second, her big blue eyes betraying nothing. Finally, she said, “I’d like you close.”

  Before Bastian could admire her blush a delicate pink on the ridge of her nose, Peregrine turned back to the pile in front of them. He let his eyes wander over everything to distract himself from the urge to kiss her and see if he could dye her cheeks as bright as her hair.

  She had packed bushels of arrow shafts, a bin of metal tips, tool kits for assembly, a white and green painted vanity with the mirror carefully wrapped up beside it, three chests of carefully stored apparel, two chests full of linens wrapped around small knickknacks, a standing wardrobe that matched the vanity, a purple chaise, a sage green footstool, and no less than four large family portraits.

  The count was also finished looking over everything. “I guess this is it then…”

  “Until next year.” Peregrine said. There was a breath of silence between them before she added, “I’m going to miss you.”

  Suddenly, Count Valin was passing Mr Snifflesworth over to Bastian, who held the beast while the father threw his arms around his daughter in a fierce hug. “I’m going to miss you too, Sweet pea.”

  Everyone in the hall pretended they weren’t looking, giving the Ferns a moment.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “You’ll write?” Count Valin asked, pulling back to look Peregrine over.

  “I’ll write” she agreed.

  “And you’ll come home if anything happens.” It wasn’t a question.

  Peregrine wiped one of her eyes. “Of course.”

  “Good.” Count Valin turned to Lish, “Then we can start loading.”

  Lish nodded, and pulled out a silver key from around her neck. She crouched and opened the prepared storage trunk. It was only about as big as a picnic basket and easy enough to carry around.

  “Don’t forget the wedding dress - it should go separately. In one of your personal storage devices.” The count told Lish, who stilled at the reminder.

  “Of course,” The maid replied. “We can’t forget the dress.”

  “If we're going back the way we came,” Bastian broached, petting the capybara still happily snuggled in his arm. “...should we return Mr Snifflesworth ourself?”

  “No need.” Count Valin snapped up the creature as fast as he’d deposited it. “I’ll handle it. You just focus on keeping safe on the road.”

  “I don’t understand why we can’t just boat–” Peregrine started, only for Valin to cut her off.

  “And have you attacked by an undead crew of merciless pirates?” The count frowned. “You will take the road or I’m taking back my approval.”

  “Does that mean I should start unpacking?” Lish asked delicately.

  “No.” Bastian and Peregrine said at the same time. The latter stepped closer to Bastian and added. “What’s another trip through the pass? Maybe the capybaras will have cleared by then?”

  “I doubt it.” Bastian said under his breath. Peregrine heard and poked him. He realized with amusement that his new fiance would probably hear anything and everything he grumbled from now on.

  That could be fun.

  …

  Malory found Count Valin sitting on the couch in his office, the count’s face buried in the bristly hair of Mr Snifflesworth the First. The capybara was a good companion, only happy when it was eating or standing on someone.

  “They’ve crossed the border.” The butler announced.

  “Tell me again,” Valin said, straightening. “Why I’m not revolting against the crown?”

  “You are, my lord.”

  There was a pause.

  “Tell me again why I’m not revolting with immediate violence. Freezing it all and taking it by force. Leading with tyranny. Stripping Elite rights and throwing the noble families to the direwolves?”

  “We don’t have direwolves, my lord. Unless you want to import some from the Dark Enchanted Forest for the revolution?” Malory countered. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “I’m serious,” Valin stated - though both of them knew he wouldn’t do more than consider it. After years of groundwork, upturning everything now would be a waste. Or not. The foundation the Ferns had laid throughout the realm would make overthrowing the Maple Throne possible - and bringing down two decades of oppression was tempting.

  “Of course, my lord.” Malory said calmly. “Should I contact the rebellion then?”

  “... no.” Valin leaned back on the couch and covered his eyes with one hand. It smelled like capybara, but he didn’t care.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, my lord?” Malory asked. The butler eyed Mr Snifflesworth, “And a wash cloth?”

  Valin considered it for only a second. “No. Bring me a bottle of mead. The good stuff.”

  Malory raised an eyebrow. “As you will, my lord.”

  “And Malory,” Valin called after him.

  “Yes?”

  “Bring two cups.”

  Malory took the afternoon off to drink with his friend. And carried the poor elf up to bed when he was done crying over tales of little Peregrine and her antics.

  The butler ignored his own sniffles, blaming the aptly named capybara, and turned in early.

  Tomorrow would be another day… just a little quieter than all the days before it.