Howl waited until we were in the library and alone in the spell book aisle before hugging me.

  He was slightly taller than me, though I’d swear he was still my height the last time I saw him. Growing up, I’d been the wild child tamed by rigorous tutors and the need for secrecy, while Howl had been the cautious and serious type. I was more than happy to let him go on tours around the estate while I escaped my perfect-lady persona to run in the forest and get in trouble.

  Kind of like now.

  “How did you get yourself into this mess?!” Howl demanded, looking all the world like I’d brought him another Blossom Bear.

  “Well,” I thought back to where it all began and explained, “It started with that Madame Potts Cast that said I should go to the Spring Ball–”

  “Peregrine, this is serious.” He waved his hand back the way we’d come, “I was gone for two months and come home to find Father with a pet capybara and you being married against your will to some non-elf across the—”

  I cut him off, “It’s not against my will. I like Bastian.”

  “And you liked that idiot Geoffrey–”

  “Hardly.”

  “So you’re-- wait, what?” Howl narrowed his eyes, just like our father did when he was demanding an important answer. It looked more angry and stern than it actually was on Howl, who was simply confused… actually, after what I’d learned recently, maybe I could say the same was true for Father as well.

  “I never liked Lord Geoffrey of Oakley,” I replied, wondering where he’d gotten that idea from. “The elf was the bane of my existence, and I've prayed to the gods every day for his eternal peaceful rest.”

  “I don’t understand.” Howl said, “If you didn’t like him, why did you get engaged to him?”

  “Father chose him.” I shrugged. He was better than Crown Prince Deryl… probably.

  Howl stared at me for a very long time, his expression unreadable.

  “What?” I demanded, a slow feeling of unease prickling at my senses.

  Howl opened his mouth to say something, but the unease I’d felt got stronger, and before he could breathe a word, I grabbed him by the robes and yanked the both of us to the ground.

  A dagger sailed over my head where I’d just been standing, thunking into the frame of the bookshelf.

  My bow was in my hands as I turned to aim at our attacker, when tendrils of wood and tree branches erupted from all around me. “Wha–?”

  The entire library shifted, bookshelves growing branches until the books themselves were hidden behind knotted bark. A few muffled curses rose up throughout the room as everyone in the library was grabbed at by magical wooden limbs, including myself. I leapt onto an incoming branch and tried to find who was attacking us. Everyone in sight, from a catkin knight who’d been standing in the romance aisle, to the preela dignitary from the Empire of Sands who’d been sitting at a window seat reading in the sun, everyone was captured.

  “Peregrine, wait!” Howl was on the ground where I’d left him, also trapped in a cage of oak branches that sprouted from the floor. It wasn’t hurting him at least.

  It wasn’t hurting anyone…

  And there wasn’t anyone obvious I could shoot at. The catfolk couple standing at the search registry were a possibility, but they just looked annoyed at being caught. They didn’t fight it. The last person in the library was a panicking half-elf scholar, but she was panicking because the magic had sent her tumbling and her papers were now scattered all over the roiling tree branches in her section of the library.

  In the second it took for me to take in all of that information, I was caught by a fast-whipping branch that snatched me by the ankle and lifted me upside down.

  “That’s enough of that.” A firm voice stated, and an old Treant appeared in the middle of the chaos. The monsters were sentient… but they rarely left the Dark Enchanted Forest. Seeing one in the middle of a library in Peldeep was surprising to say the least. “Who dared to hurt my library, hmm? Was it you?”

  The treant’s eyes landed on me, hanging upside down with a bow in hand.

  “No,” I said, honestly. “Someone threw a knife at me and I just tried to defend–”

  “No weapons in the library.” He said, and he must have cast a spell of some kind because my skill was forcibly undone and my bow unsummoned. “And no assassins… hmm… yes, yes, there you are.”

  The treant’s canopy of apple blossoms shivered, and suddenly a lizardkin dropped from the ceiling, landing hard on the floor at the librarian’s feet.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “No assassins in the library.” The treant stated, and the lizardkin was just as suddenly gone again.

  “Good good. That’s better.” Nodding his head as if that were that, the treant settled down and the magical branches stopped. The stacks returned to normal, showing off their prize books, and I was dropped. Dexterity worked in my favor and I landed on my feet.

  “Peregrine!” Howl ran up to me and grabbed my shoulder. “Peregrine, are you alright?!”

  “I’m fine.” I waved off his concern. And it was true, I was fine. Mostly just impressed by the Peldeep librarian… and a little sorry for the sad half-elf scholar who was still trying to find and pick up all her papers. “No damage.”

  “How can you be fine?!” He demanded, then louder, “You were almost assassinated.”

  “Quiet in the library.” The treant’s words settled over us and when we both turned to say, “Sorry.” But nothing came out.

  Howl looked dumbfounded, moving his mouth as if sounds should come out. I realized right away what happened and just shook my head at my not-so-little brother anymore.

  We weren’t going to be having that brother-sister reunion in the library as planned. I was considering writing Howl to say we should use this opportunity to actually look at some of the books - that glorious Toxiphilus on Archery text was waiting for me - but unfortunately my brother had other plans.

  He grabbed me by the hand, nodded respectfully at the treant, and then dragged me back into the hallway. I positioned us so that both ends of the hall were in my periphery and heightened my senses to make sure no one else was there with us.

  “Words words words,” Howl said, aloud, and it worked.

  “Before you get upset,” I headed off the conversation with a few well-placed facts, “Yes, I’m fine. No, I’m not normally attacked by assassins. And yes, I’m fine. How are you? Are you hurt anywhere?”

  Howl’s robe was pulled out of place when I’d grabbed it, and it looked like I’d broken one of his buttons.

  “Do I look fine?” Howl demanded, and I raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes?”

  “Well I’m not fine.” Howl declared. “I’ve travelled across the country, through magic storms and rain and mud, was kidnapped by the Dark Horde and forced to slave away for Their Royal Highness at the Dark Lord’s wedding, befriended a bridge troll or all things, and when I finally get to see my sister, she’s being held captive by some dragon and forced to marry him–”

  “Again, not forced.”

  “--and only now am I learning that she wasn’t in love with her last fiancé either!”

  The idea alone made me actually laugh out loud and I wondered if Howl actually believed what he’d said. “Who could ever love Geoffrey of Oakley.”

  “I don’t know!” Howl replied, finally realizing his robes were off center and pulling them back into place. “Not you apparently.”

  “Well, that’s good.” I turned my head to see Their Royal Highness of Peldeep leaning in the doorway to the gathering room, and Bastian standing in the hallway carrying a trussed up and unconscious racoon-dog. This wasn’t the first time Bastian had overheard me talking about personal matters, and just like last time he greeted me with a reassuring smile.

  I raised an eyebrow at my fiancé and his prize, “Attempted assassination? Us too.”

  The smile dropped from his face, and the grumpy aura he’d been maintaining whenever I let go of his hand returned with a vengeance. Granted, this time it had an actual reason.

  In a dark voice, he asked, “Who dared to attack you?”

  “Aside from the librarian?” Howl grumbled under his breath beside me.

  “Just a knife wielding assassin. It’s alright, the librarian sent him away.”

  Rowen pushed off of the doorway and put a hand on Bastian’s shoulder. “Excellent, then you can interrogate them both in the dungeons while I have tea with the Ferns.”

  Bastian’s face got darker, which was impressive for a pale, white-haired ice dragon. He obviously did not want to take another step from my person, but he was also getting orders from his monarch, so it wouldn’t do to refuse.

  “I’ll see you soon.” I told my drakin, trying to help. “I’ll wait right—"

  A chime sounded throughout the halls, cutting me off, and Rowen pulled out a Cast Crystal from thin air.

  Good afternoon, all!

  This is Madame Potts, back with the latest news. Gerald the Grey is looking for his hat. It was last seen in Colwood, but he lost it on his way to Calis, poor man. If anyone sees the magical flying hat, they might bring it to any Mages Tower representative or magical guild for a hefty reward. Be careful! It bites.

  The Dungeon Valley Deep is suffering a glitch on the sixth floor, so don’t bother hunting rover rolls. Until further notice, they aren’t able to be looted properly and provide no instant drops. You can still gain experience points from the hunt, though. I saw that Slake Drakeford, Adventurer Extraordinaire, will be in the Dark Enchanted Forest tomorrow, so if you are on the roads, you might catch a peek of the legend himself. Pets are always appreciated, but be sure to ask first.

  The wedding for Countess Peregrine and Knight Commander Bastian is set to create a political connection between Sumbria and Peldeep for the first time in over a century. A special announcement for all involved: Anyone living in Peldeep should be warned that Sumbrian nobles are all a bunch of pompous and ruthless idiots ready to try and flog you in the street if you so much as look at them. The delegations from Sumbria should be warned that if they actually try it, their bodies will never be recovered. Merfolk make the most amazing arts and crafts out of elf bones that I’ve ever seen.

  The sixth prince, Lucial Neftor from the Empire of Sands, visited Peldeep on his way home from Grand Duchess Calisto’s Spring Ball, and hasn’t left yet. This madame thinks love is in the air and he is courting one of Their Royal Highness Rowen’s children. No word yet as to who has caught the prince’s eye, but he’s going to find himself in trouble this weekend if he doesn’t go after his lover. You need to overcome your doubts, or you’ll lose everything, Lucial.

  If anyone is looking for blue ore, they can travel to Drendil’s west coast in three days. Two pirate ships containing the material are in a battle on the open seas right as I speak.

  Their ships are going to sink, and the cargo will start washing ashore by the end of the week.

  That’s everything, folks. Yours truly, Madame Potts

  Everyone was processing the news differently. Howl had gotten visibly upset at Servalt’s insult, and Rowen was already transcribing the message with a magicked quill and parchment. Bastian was looking at me like he wanted to drop everything, pick me up and run away.

  I was the first to speak.

  “Didn’t Madame Potts just cast four days ago?” I asked. Checking the date in my mind. She rarely used the Cast Crystals more than once a fortnight. Sometimes only once a month.

  Rowen glanced up from their writing.

  “Madame Potts,” They said, “casts whenever there is something to cast. And I think May is going to be a very eventful month.”