Howl wondered if meeting Their Royal Highness was his greatest fortune, or simple bad luck.

  “You’re really very good at that.” Rowen told Howl with a wide fox grin. They were in the guise of a half-transformed beastwoman, with long black hair and cute black cat ears on their head, and three whiskers on either side of their small button nose.

  “Happy to help, Your Highness,” Howl lied. He’d been sitting there for the better part of an hour, fanning the fox with magic wind, and his mana pools were hurting. The afternoon sun was in full force, and Their Highness apparently travelled in an unenchanted, plain carriage, all the better to be inconspicuous with. As such, it got hot and stuffy.

  And Howl was the perfect solution to that. For the better part of their three day journey, Rowen had had him demonstrate his magical talents, tell stories from Sumbria, repeat his adventures with the Golden Goose three times, and asked seemingly innocent questions about Peregrine - like her favorite food, or color, or flower. There were a few moments of reprieve, thank the gods, when Howl was sent to sit outside with the carriage driver, Olive.

  Howl longed for a break under the sun with the quiet giantess.

  “Don’t worry,” Rowen said, leaning forward to peek out the window. “We’ll be stopping soon. Ah, here we are. Olive, darling, pull over.”

  There weren’t any cities directly on the Great Road, as far as Howl knew, and they were still at least an hour from the border. The horses wouldn’t need a rest yet either. Howl wondered what horror from the dark wood might stop them so close to the border’s edge.

  The carriage rolled to a stop, and he found out.

  “I have a face, I have a tail

  But no body in between.

  Still I lay, and spin, and flip.

  The fairer to be seen.”

  A familiar voice called out to the carriage. A voice that should be three days behind them if he weren’t mistaken.

  “Gerda?” He asked, looking out his own window. There, on a bridge, stood the troll. Hands on her hips and a smile on her face.

  “Wrong answer.” She said, raising her eyebrow at him. “Care to try again.”

  Howl tried to remember what she’d said and failed. Desperate, he turned back to Rowen, who spoke with amusement. “Heads and Tails, and you flip it? I know you can figure this one out on your own, Howl.”

  “Right,” He muttered, sticking his head back outside the window, “A coin!”

  “Congradulations, you may now pass.” Gerda said, stepping aside.

  “You were a bridge troll?” Howl asked, still shocked. There weren’t that many Bridge Troll’s in Valaria, and he’d spent the better part of a wedding chatting with one! All the rumors said that they ate people.

  “Oh don’t make that face, Howl.” Gerda laughed. “I’m not going to eat you.”

  And apparently they also read minds too. Howl quickly pulled his head back in and sat back on the carriage cushion.

  Rowen, for their part, was quietly laughing. They even wiped away a pretend tear.

  “She’s right, Count Fern,” The fox used his title when it pleased them, such as now. “Ogre’s eat people. Bridge Trolls are a fascinating blend of power and wit.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “You flatter me, Your Highness.” Gerda said, suddenly at the window.

  “What gave me away?” The fox asked, their disguise still firmly in place. "You don't often figure it out until I cross that bridge of yours."

  Gerda raised an eyebrow and looked at Howl, who had only just barely recovered from his earlier embarrassment, and was already struggling again. Rowen nodded, accepting her answer.

  Howl coughed, “Ah, my apologies Miss Gerda.”

  “I’ve heard the rumors,” She waved away his concerns and smiled at him. “There are just as many unsavory ones about Sumbrians.”

  How his cheeks got hotter, he had no idea.

  “Speaking of Sumbrian’s,” Rowen said, “Have you seen any passing through the Dark Enchanted Forest lately?”

  Gerda shot the fox a side-eye, “Other that Howl? One.”

  Howl straightened in his seat, “Have you seen my sister? She is green with bright pink hair.”

  “Can’t say that I have. Just an angry elf travelling up from Drendil, of all places.” Gerda shook her head once, “Not that I usually share Nilheim travel information with Peldeep royals, mind you. But I’ve made an exception this once, on account of Howl being such a dear at my queen’s wedding.”

  “You wound me.” Rowen grinned, showing pointy teeth. “Were my efforts not enough?”

  “Ask Necromancer Chloe,” Gerda drawled.

  It was true, the pair had butt heads more times than Howl could count. Rowen hesitated and then waved their hand, “Fine. Thank you for the excellent riddle. Any chance you want to move to Peldeep and start guarding my bridges?”

  “I haven’t changed my mind.” Gerda said, implying this wasn’t the first time the fox had made the request. Howl wondered if the Dark Lord knew his neighbor was trying to poach his citizens.

  “Well, this was a lovely chat,” Rowen stated, not bothered at all by the rejection. “I hope to have it again sometime.”

  Gerda stepped back, letting the carriage pull back onto the road and cross her bridge. “Of course, Your Highness. Fine weather, Howl!”

  “--and fair travels,” Howl completed the goodbye, but when he looked back, Gerda was gone.

  “She’s a force, that one.” Rowen commented, leaning back in their chair.

  “Why–” Howl started, yet stopped. It wasn’t his place to pry into Peldeep politics. His sister hadn’t married into the country yet. And if he were honest, he was hoping she didn’t go through with it and came home. Then this would’ve just been another story to talk about around the dinner table.

  “Why do I want her?” Rowen finished Howl’s question anyway, the fox laughed. “Boy, do you know how many people want to kill me?”

  “No?”

  “At least one!” They stated. “One very violent, obsessive, and outright clingy assassin - who hasn’t let me alone since Madame Pott first mentioned my demise.” Rowen’s smile turned predatory, “Miss Gerda is outrageously strong for a mere bridge troll. Having her guard a bridge at my palace would save me a world of strife. Besides…”

  Rowen paused for a moment, considering. Howl couldn’t hide his own curiosity. “Besides what?”

  The fox stared at the boy, “Besides, it wouldn’t even be that hard, since Gerda already has a bridge in Peldeep. Not that she knows that I know. What’s one more?”

  “Wait– isn’t that bad?” Howl asked, thinking back on his territory management classes and realizing just how bad that actually was. Internationally criminal even.

  “Oh, terribly.” Rowen agreed, unperturbed. “But I am a forgiving fox. A saint, really.”

  Howl coughed.

  “And I’m sure you, my boy, won’t go telling anyone about our friend and her misdemeanors.” Rowen said with a jovial air. The ‘Or Else’ hung heavy between them, and Howl understood that he probably, just maybe, shouldn’t have asked more than he was supposed to. As his father had once told him, knowledge came with its own blade. He had seen it when he needed to step lightly around the crown… and he shouldn’t have let himself become complacent for even a second around this royal.

  “Of course, Your Highness.” He said, resolving to put the entire conversation from memory. Now he just needed to stay in the fox’s good graces until they reached the palace. “Would you like a cold breeze?”

  “That would be lovely, Howl,” Rowen crossed their legs and leaned their chin on their palm, turning to look out the window.

  Gods but he couldn’t wait until they arrived in Vitol and found his sister. He would stay with her and never let her out of his sight again - and maybe, just maybe, convince her to come home.