“She’s gone to the Glades, Your Excellency,” the butler informed Count Valin.

  “Lishinia is with her?” The count sighed and leaned both elbows on his desk, dropping his head into his hands. “What am I to do Malory? My precious daughter is grieving for her one true love and I can’t even hug her or find the words to comfort her! I’m a failure of a father.”

  The count picked up a portrait of his beloved wife and child. Primrose was still at the palace in an audience with the queen, calling for the swift and complete eradication of Pirate Abra and her misfit band of undead.

  Primrose would return soon, hopefully with the court order.

  “You’re doing great, Your Grace.” Malory consoled, “I'm sure your daughter feels your love and support. Just look at how hard you worked after she told you she was proud of having a dad who is the prime minister?”

  “She was so small back then.” The count gently traced a hand down the picture frame and sighed. Again. “Do you think she's still proud of me?”

  “Of course! You are a wonderful prime minister! The kingdom would fall apart without you.” The butler assured him. He went over to a tea trolley and used [Heat] to boil water for a nice cup of chaga. The mushroom brew helped the count get through the piles of paperwork that constantly appeared on his desk.

  Just as Malory was placing the drink in front of him, there was a knock on the door and Count Valin jumped to his feet, ignoring the cup. “Come in!”

  A maid poked her head inside, “Her Grace has just arrived. She’s on her way up.”

  The count abandoned his desk and took to pacing. He was still doing so when the light of his life burst in.

  “Darling–” the count paused in his excited greeting when he saw the look on Countess Primrose’s face. “What happened?”

  Instead of answering the question, the countess stepped into the count's embrace and asked. “How is Peregrine?”

  “She's taking it hard.” The count confessed. “She barely touched her food, and her attendant caught her crying in her room.”

  “The queen was useless.” Primrose grumbled and tried to pull away. “I need to go comfort Peregrine.”

  “You can't. Lishinia's taken her to the Glades.” Valin caught his wife's hand and drew her back to him. “I'm hoping she can work out her sorrow on the archery range.”

  Primrose let Valin drag her to an ornate wooden loveseat. The pillows were embroidered by his wife during their first year together. Peregrine was a spitting image of her mother at that age– a brighter green than most, vibrant and beautiful with long deep pink hair. Their daughter only inherited his blue eyes.

  “That girl,” Primrose chastised, “all she cares about is archery and Geoff–” The countess cut herself off, growing somber. “After all we sacrificed to let them be together.... Oh Valin, what are we going to do?”

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  “For now, we'll let her mourn.” Valin wrapped his arms around his wife and rested his head on hers. Ever since she’d started suffering night sweats last year, his darling wife insisted they sleep separately and it was killing him. “And when it's time, we can find something to distract her.”

  “Or someone.” Primrose grumbled. “The queen was already discussing candidates. She even told me that if we need help she'll– well, I'm sure it won't come to that.”

  “It'll be fine, my love.” Valin soothed. “We'll have plenty of time to figure everything out.”

  …

  Lishinia Linden wiped a tear from her eye.

  Her mistress had missed a mark at Glades, something that Lish hadn't seen since... well, since the day Peregrine had been engaged all those years ago.

  After the lady had met Lord Geoffrey at the Neld's high tea, Lish had secretly seen the lady writing his name in the margins of her homework and her discarded correspondence. There were entire pages crinkled up and tossed aside those first few days full of his name.

  Of course, Lish would never actually break her lady’s trust and read the letters, but she knew what was in the girl's heart. That was why she'd felt no qualms secretly letting the count and countess know about their daughter's crush.

  Geoffrey had been small, with long hair favored by the youth today. Sure his carefree manner was oftentimes brash, but he was growing. And his family was old and noteworthy even if he was a second son.

  After missing the mark, Peregrine had gone non-stop for hours - so much so they'd almost not made it back in time for lunch.

  Lish opened the door, pushing a tea trolley with nettle tea, spinach puffs, and a few letters. She found Peregrine lying on a couch in her private parlor, reading.

  “My Lady?”

  There was a new energy to Peregrine that Lish couldn't place, but she’d caught her mistress smiling a few times so there was hope.

  This was one such time.

  “Lishinia, there you are. Thank you for the tea.” Peregrine sat up and put aside her reading. She accepted a cup, but glanced past the letters, blatantly ignoring them.

  “If I may,” Lish swept a hand to the pile.

  Peregrine's smile tightened, but she nodded. Lishinia opened each, read, and then summarized the contents aloud.

  They were all from vultures.

  Noble lords and ladies wishing for her precious young miss to attend their event so they could find out about her lost love and maybe convince her to marry one of their own. Peregrine's brother, Count Howl Fern, was going to inherit the estate, but that didn't make Peregrine any less desirable.

  Since children inherited their parent’s highest title, anyone who married [Countess] Peregrine would see their future children elevated in the noble registry.

  Lishinia was almost through the letters when excited footfalls ran up the hallway. Lish unlatched a dagger at her right wrist, sliding it down into her palm.

  Just in case.

  She need not have worried, however, as Primrose's personal maid knocked once and shouted through the door excitedly, “Miss! I have important news!”

  Lishinia sighed and resheathed her blade. “Magenta, there's no need to cause a-”

  The elf burst in, her face flushed from running. “It's Madame Potts Cast! Our Miss was just mentioned in today's foretelling.”

  “What?!” Both Lishinia and Peregrine gasped.

  Peregrine stood up. All other correspondence forgotten. “What did it say?”

  Magenta wrung her hands, “You'll be invited to a Ball.”

  Lishinia shared a look with her confused young miss. It had to be more than that–

  “More specifically, Grand Duchess Calisto is inviting you to the Spring Ball… in North Sumbria.”

  Chaos and Capybaras | Royal Road