A Few Minutes Ago

  “We have to change the plan.” Lish told Rebecca. “You can’t kill the delegate anymore.”

  Rebecca tossed a knife into the air and caught it by the hilt, aiming it at Lish. “Why did you stop me? We both agreed that unaliving the delegate before they arrived at the palace was the best step. A quick [Revive], the entire wedding is ruined, and no one gets hurt!”

  Ignoring the fact that the delegate would, technically, get hurt, Lish had originally let it slide.

  The plan had been simple:

  Sumbrian’s lost all rights and responsibilities to the living after dying - unless the death was during a dungeon delve, of course - so if they had assassinated the delegate ON THE WAY to the palace, he would no longer be able to act as delegate OR proxy. So when Earl Oakley arrived at the gate and decided of their own volition - and with a bit of wordplay - to retrieve Peregrine first… well, who would think twice at an assassination on route?

  Best case the wedding was cancelled, worst case the wedding was delayed while they waited for a new proxy.

  Lish had no loyalty for Sumbria itself; her number one priority was Peregrine.

  And Peregrine loved the Oakleys.

  “Earl Oakley is off the table.” Lish stated, “He’s a family friend.”

  Rebecca scoffed, “He doesn’t treat her like a friend.”

  “Either way, it’s too late now.” Lish countered. “Once he’s in the palace, it’ll be on Peldeep to keep him safe or breach the contract. Time for plan two.”

  “If you’re leading me on–”

  “We both know that’s not the case.” Lish shot back. In fact, just the two of them meeting and scheming to take down Sumbria might be enough to break the contract. if brought to justice... Lish hadn’t had a chance to read the thing, so she was working off her and Rebecca’s memory on what was or wasn’t in the document. “I have to get back, and so do you.”

  Rebecca shoved her knife in her boot. “You’ll see me again soon.”

  Lish ignored her, running back to her mistress to tell them she’d found nothing.

  ...

  Bastian let Peregrine drag him alone at a slow pace, turning a quick trip into an enjoyable meander. She asked after their neighbors, what he knew of the festival decorations on their street, the history of the buildings, and if there were any cultural barriers she should know about like greeting cards, welcome to the neighbourhood pies, or rival fruit stealing tricks.

  Sumbrians were not above petty rivalry, she informed him, and the rest she’d read about in Her Eminence Feliwyn the Dragon’s books.

  Really, anything to slow their dreaded trip to the palace.

  Bastian told her that Peldeep was known for decorator’s pride and she could expect a tin of lotus blossom cakes or bowls of nuts from anyone she’d replied to in that pile of letters she was tackling.

  “Excellent! You’ve arrived just in time!”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  That was a voice Bastian was not expecting to welcome them at the gate, and all of his senses turned on edge, “Your Highness?”

  Rowen stood just inside the gate, Earl Oakley fuming beside them. The elf was as red as cherry, and waiting quietly beside the fox. Rowen stood in the guise of a human woman, skin as dark as Duchess Calisto, with long black hair in tiny wavy rivulets. They wore heavy eyeliner, a blue dress, and small silver beads in their hair.

  Other palace folk put down their heads and rushed passed, as far from their ruler as possible.

  “I have excellent news.” Rowen said, their smile flashing wide, “I’m going to move the Continental Council meeting to tonight.”

  “Does the council know that?” Bastian asked. The meetings were arranged around different holidays, so people would have cause to visit and host, but there had to be a quorum of representatives or no motions could pass.

  “Everyone is already here.” Rowen said.

  “What about the penalty bout?” Bastian asked, recalling some of Rowen’s responsibilities throughout the festival. Usually, Bastian was the one who’d have been expected to follow Rowen around, making sure they were in their proper place at the proper time. “Guild Master Warren is supposed to fight the Stannard heir, and you’re supposed to oversee it.”

  Rowen waved their hand, “I’ll move it. Warren can still fight all of the contestants before the bouts, and Luke Stannard during the finals overmorrow.”

  “Isn’t that when you are scheduled to oversee the military academy finals?” Bastian pointed out, knowing full well that Rowen’s time was booked to the second… in fact, if Bastian recalled correctly, the royal was supposed to be judging a Peldeep Dumpling Competition as they spoke.

  Granted, for food related contests the fox often sent a stand in. There were only so many poisoning attempts they wanted to fend off in a given day.

  “I’ll send Sir Rebecca, the trainee’s worship the ground she walks on.” Rowen said, their smile slipped into something more serious as they finally decided to tell the group why they were suddenly changing everything around. “This is more important; we’ve finally uncovered information on the Molten Ash Vane case. And have to decide what to do next.”

  “Really?” Peregrine asked, leaning forward and speaking for the first time since they’d walked through the gates. “May I sit in? I’m sure my father would be interested in learning about your findings.”

  “You?!” Earl Oakley sputtered, no longer able to hold himself back. He looked down his nose at Peregrine. “Only Elites are allowed at the Council Meeting. Even your younger brother is closer to sitting at council before you.”

  Rowen opened their mouth to say something but Peregrine cut off the ruler of Peldeep.

  “Of course, my Lord.” She said, pleading with her eyes for the fox not to say anything.

  Bastian discovered he’d taken a step forward unconsciously, held back only by Peregrine’s firm hand on his. Cold dread seeped down his spine.

  He was starting to move without due care and thought. This was a disaster. It was unacceptable.

  He needed to keep calm.

  Bastian let that cold feeling settle into his mind, freezing his expressions and numbing his emotions. With a clear voice he said, “Why don’t we finish this conversation inside, under cover.”

  “Finally, some common sense!” Lord Oakley glanced around at the open area, frowning at ministers and knights walking about the palace grounds, “Any one of these lowly creatures could be an assassin–”

  “Surely you did not mean to call my subjects lowly.” Rowen turned their widest smile on the elf, pressure exuding off the fox with an ominous aura.

  “I-I, uh, of course not.” Lord Oakley pulled at his vest nervously. “I only meant lowly assassins could be anywhere, Your Highness.”

  Rowen’s aura lessened just slightly, and the fox waved the earl towards the entrance to the embassy wing. “Good. Now come this way, my Lord. We have a council to attend! Countess Peregrine, show Earl Oakley’s attendants to their rooms, would you?”

  “But Your Highness, you can’t mean right now. I’m still wearing travel clothes!” Lord Oakley argued, more the fool. The elf’s clothes were jewel studded and stiff enough to wear to the formal ball.

  Bastian wondered if Rowen even had the patience to put up with a Sumbrian delegation long enough to complete the contract.

  “This way you two.” Bastian left the earl’s fate to his royal and nodded at the retainers standing in terrified silence off to the side. He assumed the third was putting away the carriage. “We’ll have you settled into your rooms before lunch. I’m sure you are hungry from your travels.”

  “Wait.” Rowen turned a mischievous grin on the knight commander, “You’re with us, Bastian.”

  Every fiber of Bastian’s body rejected the idea. He couldn’t take three steps from Peregrine’s side without the hair rising on his neck and a dark pit swallowing his heart. “Carsen will–”

  “Carsen is busy doing your job, if you recall, and my son is busy.” Rowen shook their head. “I need you for this meeting.”

  There was something Rowen wasn’t saying in front of everyone and as much as Bastian wanted to defy his oath of loyalty, pick up Peregrine, and run away… he couldn’t.

  “I’ll be back as soon as the meeting is over.” He told Peregrine. She looked up at him with worry, for him, and squeezed his arm once before letting him go. “I’ll finish up here and go straight home,” she said.

  Somehow, Bastian nodded and let go. Ice cold frost crept along his skin that reminded Bastian of his soon-to-be father-in-law. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his beating heart.

  The earl snapped angrily, cutting through Bastian’s thoughts. “Well? Are you leading the way or not?”

  Bastian wondered for the briefest second if he should commit bodily harm to Oakley. Knowing why he couldn’t made something click in his mind, and a calm control settled over his rage.

  It was simple.

  Keeping Earl Oakley alive and well meant that he got to marry Peregrine, so Bastian would do everything in his power to keep the elf safe.

  Until the wedding at least.

  Bastian took the lead, escorting Earl Oakley and Their Royal Highness Rowen of Peldeep safely to the council room… not realizing that he’d forgotten something important. Or, more accurately, someone.