Sir Rebecca Bramble:

  Rebecca had been working for the royal guard for three years now, and in all that time she’d learned a thing or two about the commander.

  He didn’t make connections easily, and he spent all of his free time crafting.

  The only time she’d seen him genuinely at peace was the time she’d caught him painting miniature wooden toy cats for the royal orphanage. He was determined to give one to every child for the longest night celebration, and had brought the last few to work on his lunch break.

  “He took your advice.” Carsen pointed out. He was leaning on the desk in her room. “So you can stop pacing.”

  Rebecca glared at the fox. “How can you be so calm!”

  “The commander isn’t going to marry a Sumbrian.” The fox shrugged. “I’d be surprised if he marries anyone.”

  “Then why did he escort her to tea?” Rebecca shot back.

  “Because Their Royal Highness told him to?”

  Not only had the commander escorted the elf to tea, he'd come back afterwards with a broad smile on his face. Now he was off getting ready while she was left here to worry.

  “I don’t like it.” Rebecca ran one hand through her loosely fallen mohawk. Her black hair hung down one side, falling just above her left cheekbone.

  “You know Bastian wouldn’t go through with a marriage that he didn’t want– even if Their Highness ordered him too. Which they wouldn’t.”

  “It’s not Rowen I’m worried about.”

  Carsen pushed off from the desk, crossing the room and putting a hand on her shoulder. It felt surprisingly reassuring. “The Sumbrian court is untrustworthy and cruel, and we'll be ready if they pull something–”

  “When they pull something.”

  "When the pull something." Carsen smiled a slow smile, showing his canines, “And when they do, Peldeep can use that as an excuse to stop the marriage talks all together.”

  He patted her shoulder once and then let go, glancing behind her at the clock. They needed to leave half an hour left before the Spring Ball to get into place, which was still a ways off.

  "Here," Carsen surprised her and offered his arm. “Why don’t we go down early to set up?”

  “I didn’t think my first Spring Ball would be like this.” She bemoaned, but accepted the fox’s escort.

  “You’re a royal guard.” He teased her. “It’s what we do. Guard.”

  “Ha, ha.” She grimaced, but let him pull her out of the room and into the suite proper. Their Royal Highness had the master bedroom, and was off escorting the Grand Duchess. Rebecca shared a room with Healer Nelson, who was off supervising Their Royal Highness.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Carsen and Bastian were sharing the last room, and Rebecca pointed where their door was ajar. “This is exactly what I was worried about.”

  The room was empty, the commander no where to be found.

  …

  Knight Commander Bastian of Peldeep

  Bastian realized that he hadn’t arranged with Peregrine exactly where he should pick her up, so he’d only popped into his rooms long enough check in with his companions and change. Then he’d left early to ask after Peregrine’s whereabouts.

  Which is how he’d found himself waiting outside her door for almost an hour.

  This was fine; he’d brought a linen square and some embroidery thread to keep his hands busy. The needle pierced the fabric with practiced ease as pink peonies bloomed over the pillow cover. He could finish a second linen square by the time he got home and sew them together with filler to make a decorative pillow.

  He wondered if Peregrine would like it.

  The door he was leaning beside opened and a familiar voice rang clear in the halls. “If you can’t seduce that idiot commander by the end of tonight, then don’t expect me to bring you back in disgrace. Get out.”

  “Understood, Your Highness.” Miss Peregrine gracefully walked into the hallway with a strained smile, and instantly froze when she saw Bastian standing there, needle in hand.

  Prince Deryl yelled from inside, “And you, maid, why are you so slow? Have you never buttoned a jacket before? Argh!”

  Bastian dropped the linen square so it hung from the needle in his hand, pulling the thread overtight, and then reached out. Peregrine flinched as he closed the door behind her, cutting off the sounds from inside.

  His stomach dropped from the way she looked at him. Embarrassed, frustrated… afraid.

  Her soft lips parted to say something, but he cut her off.

  “I know,” He smiled with pretend chagrin while stuffing his crafting supplies into his pouch to free up his hands. “I’m early. Do you forgive me?”

  Peregrine’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes fell to his now offered hand and back up at him. Tentatively, she accepted. “I think I’m the one who should be asking you to forgive me.”

  As soon as her hand was in his, Bastian pulled her closer and threaded their arms together so he had a firmer grip on the elf. Once she was securely trapped, he walked them back towards the magical elevator.

  “You don’t have to apologize.” He countered. “I’ve met Prince Deryl before; I know what he’s like.”

  Her shoulders slumped and her guard softened. “Thank the gods. I swear I wasn’t going to actually try to seduce you.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” He nodded... he wouldn’t have held out very long if she had.

  He pushed the button that let the palace attendant operating the magical elevator know to come and get them, and Peregrine shot a look back at her room.

  “What’s the matter?” He asked, sensing that she was troubled.

  Peregrine stiffened, but then sighed. “I feel bad for my maid… we were waylaid on our way out and Lish is now trapped helping the crown prince.”

  “Did you wanna go back and make sure she’s alright?” Bastian was hesitant to let her go, but he would if it was important to her.

  Peregrine shook her head. “No, I’m not worried for her– Lish can take care of herself. I’ll just have to do something nice for her later.”

  The magical elevator door opened, and he checked a second time, “As long as you're sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Peregrine pulled him into the elevator, and he let her.