Author's Notes

Here at last is the long-awaited (psh, who the hell am I kidding?) final chapter. I was surprised to look up from the last of my typing to find that this actually surpassed last chapter's page-count and word-count. I find that insane.

And then there was one…

Chapter 10, In Which Danger Strikes

Sophie ran as fast as her legs would carry her, her breath coming in violent gasps that hung on the frigid air.

When she thought it was safe to, she brought her gait to a less frenzied pace but didn't dare slow down to less than a sprint. Glancing up ahead, she saw that she'd finally come in the way of cover, and she intended to make the most of it. It had been far too open in the field of flowers, and she was far too easy to spot in the sprawling snow-cloaked meadow.

She reached the edge where a few sparse trees grew crookedly on the border of her garden and dodged behind a thick trunk that was twice the width of her body. Leaning against it as she caught her breath, she didn't notice that she wasn't alone.

"Sophie."

Sophie nearly shrieked at the unexpected voice, and her head whipped around to find from whom it had come.

"Easy, easy! It's only me."

"Michael, there you are! Have they spotted you here?"

He shifted his footing and looked over her shoulder restlessly as he answered, "No, but it's only a matter of time. They know we've got nowhere else to run."

She nodded grimly, her head humming with plans of what to do next.

The two of them didn't talk for a minute. There was no sound except the occasional patter of snow tumbling from tree branches onto the frozen ground, and Michael blowing on his gloved hands to warm them.

He broke the silence. "I think I can make a go of it if I try to circle around from behind the hillocks. It's the only defense we've got."

Sophie shook her head. "The valley comes up short and you'll more likely than not be on level ground with the rest of the field before you slip past them."

"Still, it's our best option," Michael insisted.

They went quiet again, trying to work out if there was some alternative they'd overlooked.

"You haven't seen Calcifer, have you?" Sophie asked abruptly, hoping that with any luck the fire demon would be near.

"No."

She scowled. "It figures. The one moment we could use him…"

"That does it, I'm going out from the valley," Michael determined. "You stay here and hold down this place in case we need cover for later."

She didn't want him to go, but at the same time, she knew there was nothing for it. "Be on your guard."

He nodded once and was gone.

Alone again, every noise made Sophie believe someone was approaching. She was beginning to wonder if she should make a run for it after him when two things happened in quick succession. The first was that a faint holler pierced the air—they'd gotten Michael. She had barely a fraction of a second to dwell on that, however, because almost immediately after, the crunch of ice underfoot rang out and warned her that there was someone indeed closing in on her.

"Don't find me," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as she hugged closer to the trunk like she could disappear into the bark if she tried hard enough. Her fingers were almost numb with how tightly she was clenching her cloak around her; she'd be betrayed if the wind caught any part of it and caused it to flutter in the wind beyond the hiding place offered by the tree. "You don't see me. Don't find me, don't find me."

But she knew she had very little chance of her spell working. They were entirely too close for anything she said to take hold in time, and if anything, her murmuring was just letting them know exactly where to find her.

Suddenly, Sophie was knocked flat on her back, but the impact of the fall was cushioned as she landed on a bank of fresh snow. She opened her eyes and looked into the face of her assailant, who was pinning her in place with the whole of their body.

"You put up an admirable fight, but you had to know it would end this way."

"Mighty full of ourselves, aren't we?" Sophie scoffed, unwilling to admit defeat just yet.

"No more than usual," was the taunting reply she received.

All at once, she found herself being rather forcefully smothered as her assailant greedily mashed their mouths together, her lips almost certainly bruising.

Far from shrinking away and squirming uselessly, she condoned this brazen exploitation so that she could use the situation to her utmost advantage. One of her arms was still free to move, and deftly, she seized a fistful of snow and thrust it into her assailant's face.

"Agh!"

Hastily, he rolled off from on top of her and wiped at his face.

"Sophie! You cheated!"

Sophie scrambled to regain her feet and get out of reach while he was still trying to rub the snow from his eyes, laughing the entire time. "Did not. It's your own fault for gloating instead of doing the actual deed."

Rid of the cold slush at last, Howl looked up at her with a distinct pout already shaping his expression. "You tricked me."

"If that's what you consider tricky, you're an even bigger imbecile than I ever imagined."

Sophie and Howl glanced upwards to see Calcifer hovering up near the higher boughs of the trees, a point from which he had a bird's-eye view of everything.

"A fine help you were!" Howl shouted up at the fire demon crossly.

Calcifer drifted down and his spindly, flaming arms poked out as if to shrug. "I double-crossed you. Sophie promised not to cook on me for a week if I pretended to be on your side."

Sophie grinned. "You outnumbered us if you had him and Edmund on your team. I knew if I persuaded Calcifer go rogue, we at least had a fair shot."

Howl picked himself up off the ground and brushed the snow from his trousers. "Strictly speaking, we were evenly matched," he contended, pointing to her stomach.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, by all means, count Morgan."

He opened his mouth to retort with something else nonsensical, no doubt, but Michael and Edmund came running into the thicket just then. Both of them were covered head to toe in a layer of snow as if they had resorted to wrestling instead of lobbing snowballs.

"Well? Who won?"

Howl coughed.

"Howl lost spectacularly after the git got a bit too cocky," Calcifer merrily announced.

"What!" Edmund cried in exasperation amidst Michael's cheers. "Howl, I thought you said you could handle her? I knew I should've taken care of Sophie while you went after Michael!"

Sophie gave a wicked grin as Howl sheepishly dug the toe of his boot into some snow.

Always raring to play devil's advocate, Calcifer began, "Oh, you don't know the half of it. Just wait until you hear how he lost to her…"

/\/\/\/\/\

Howl pored over the stacks of parchment that were spread across his workbench, an undertaking he had put off longer than he cared to admit. He'd been at it for hours now, scratching his chin with the quill while he tried to decipher what certain symbols meant and scrawling hasty—and therefore barely legible—notes in the margins when he finally worked them out.

All in all, he was thoroughly sick of Belshaw's Theory of Multiuniverse Coalescence. It also didn't help that his one source of light kept fading now and again while he was in midsentence.

"Calcifer, will you cut that out!"

Blearily, Calcifer cracked open one of his drooping eyelids and eyed Howl distastefully from the hearth. "I will not. That's no way to talk to me when I'm staying here helping you—with no benefit to me, might I add."

"Hold on while I break out the violins," Howl rejoined dryly.

"Please, you couldn't even strum a single tune on Suliman's guitar after all that time dragging it up and down the countryside. I shudder to think what torture you'd inflict if someone were to actually hand you a violin."

"Has there ever been a bigger whiner than you?"

"Yes," Calcifer frizzled heatedly, "and I'm looking at him."

More to avoid bickering further than to be conscientious of his clothing, Howl plucked at his sleeves to distance them from the inkwell but achieved the very thing he'd been trying to avoid in doing so; his ink-stained hands left black smudges on the cuffs. Practically scowling with irritation, he tried to turn back to the unending harangue of Belshaw's view on the complexities of dimensional manipulation, but got past no more than three paragraphs before he gave up.

"Enough of this old codger," he declared to the room at large and flipped the book shut with a resounding smack. "I'm going to bed."

Calcifer didn't even bother trying to restrain his contempt. "Finally!" He reduced himself to no more than a low-burning flicker that glowed ruddy under the logs.

Since he was left in almost total darkness, Howl fumbled his way up the stairs, feeling downright cantankerous all the way. He knew very well that he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't help it.

Earlier that evening, he'd been at Ben's house, once again trying to find out who or what had brought about that damned wind, only to fail. Again.

It had been eight months. Eight months of worthless searching, of being utterly clueless about where the danger lay, because if there was one thing Howl was certain of, it was that there was indeed a danger looming, indefinable but no less real for it. He could feel it in his very bones, in the way the breeze would crackle with magical energy every now and again when it was blowing from the Waste at just the right angle.

All this time, he'd been pretending that the mystery of it was not troubling, but just a mildly curious puzzle that would unravel itself in due course, and, my, wouldn't it be interesting to discover what it meant? In fact, if he was being absolutely honest with himself—a circumstance which he came to begrudge even in the confines of his own mind—it was driving him mad. The whole thing bothered him much more than he was letting on to anyone: Ben, Calcifer, Sophie.

Howl was the first to own that he was a first-rate coward, but he had come to find that the waiting, the idea that he was going about day-to-day business as if he didn't know something out of the ordinary was just on the horizon, was worse than facing the thing itself. That he could not determine what was coming or when it would happen only petrified him all the more.

He reached their bedroom door, ready to crumple onto their bed and succumb to the sleep that would numb his whirring mind.

The room was lit by only a few candles on the bedside table. Sophie, in her nightgown, was perched on a low stool before his mirror and attempting to reach around to take down her hair. It was scarcely a week until her due date, and everything she did lately seemed to make her uncomfortable. Even now she seemed to be having some difficulty, and was so involved with trying to disentangle it that she hadn't heard him come in.

Howl leaned in the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest, watching her for a moment. Sophie was the real reason he was able to keep himself from shutting down. She was holding him together when he could feel himself on the verge of breaking apart. Take him for a sentimental fool, but there it was.

She was also why he was so afraid.

Sophie was making little frustrated noises as she continued to tug impatiently at strands of her hair, half of the mass obscuring her eyes. He quietly crept up behind her and started unpinning her hair himself, going about it with a hand that was steady with practice. Her bent head jerked up as his fingers plunged themselves into her hair.

She met his reflection's gaze and gave him grateful quirk of her lips. "Thank you."

Howl nodded, but didn't say anything as he went on seeking pins. He could feel her eyes studying him in the mirror.

"Is something the matter?" Without looking at her, he knew her eyes were narrowed.

"No, nothing."

"Liar."

"So they say," he remarked, straight-faced.

She moved out from underneath his hands to face him and deliver a look that was purely Sophie. Granted, her movements were encumbered a bit, not the usual whip-quick turnabout she did to catch him in the act of doing something she didn't approve of, but the intention and meaning of it was unmistakable. "Stop slithering-out and answer me."

"I have: nothing is the matter." Yet, he was powerless to stop himself from adding in his head.

She let out a tutting noise to convey her disbelief, but didn't say another word. The look on her face seemed to say fine, but I'll find out sooner or later, before she turned back to grab her brush and tackle the knots in her red-gold tresses.

While she did, Howl changed into his own nightclothes and lay on the bed, staring at the quivering shadows the candlelight cast on the ceiling.

Sophie joined him, and he rolled onto his side to face her. He stayed there like that for a long while, motionless, just drinking in the sight of her as if to memorize every detail of the way she looked right now. Her fiery hair tumbling in casual, unintended beauty around her face. Her complexion glowing with that radiance the pregnancy had given her. Her eyes dark with faint concern over his odd behavior and something else.

She leaned forward, banishing the little space that was left between them, and joined their lips.

Between the two of them, Howl was most certainly the romantic, but whenever Sophie indulged her passionate side, it just about undid him. Her kiss was tender, almost like she believed she would hurt him if she didn't keep her touch feather-light. He didn't waste any time in showing her that she was wrong. Applying a small amount of pressure against her shoulder, he brought Sophie onto her back, following her so as not to break their connection, but holding his weight just far enough away from her so that they didn't crush her stomach between them.

To his distress, she pulled away very slightly. Then he felt her start to shower small, soft kisses all over his face and under his jaw, which drove him wild with impatience, causing him to writhe in torment. Howl recaptured her mouth and his kisses became more urgent. He could feel her body yielding in his hands. Sophie's arms stole out and twined themselves under his, palms open and pressing into his shoulder-blades as if to push him down more closely to her. His breath hitched in his throat, and he could hear her own breathing coming faster and more ragged.

Garbled outcries rang out in the distance.

The noise startled Howl and Sophie apart, and he keenly felt that the loss of contact had cost him greatly.

"What was that?" Sophie asked as she struggled to get up, completely shaken from her hazy warmness of a moment ago.

"I don't know." He hoped he was doing a better job of hiding his jitters from Sophie than he was at quelling them. The revival of his paranoia when he least expected it was making his heart pound for altogether different reasons than it had been.

"Stay here," he told her firmly, and snatching his robe from where he'd thrown it over the trunk at the foot of the bed, he whisked downstairs.

Calcifer was burning brightly in his grate when Howl reached downstairs, shoving his arm through his sleeve. "Whatever it is, it's coming from Kingsbury," he immediately told the disheveled wizard and flew out to join him.

The portal to the capital was already set, and Howl wrenched open the door.

People were clamoring in the streets, but not in fear, not in pandemonium. No, they were cheering, laughing, dancing even, as if they had decided to celebrate May Day two months early, and in the stark of night. Howl watched as two giggling children holding hands spun round and round while a middle-aged woman hung out of her second-story window banging a pot with a wooden spoon.

He exchanged an incredulous look with the fire demon.

"Has the whole town gone mad?" Calcifer marveled aloud.

"You there!" Howl shouted at a man who went ambling precariously past just then, and he sprang off the doorstep to speak with him.

The man stopped short and turned to face him with a beery grin on his face. "Oh 'lo, Wizard Pendragon! It's all in good part tha—hic—thanks to you, this is!" The man nodded sagely as if he had just imparted the greatest of wisdom. It might've been more convincing had he not slurred so heavily. Or stank so strongly of ale.

"But what do you mean? What's happened?"

The man squinted at Howl as though he had been the one drinking. "Hav'n't ya heard? Ingary won the war! The heart-fainted Strangians were forced to retre…retrea…surrender. Long live Ingary!"

He bellowed the last part, and it was taken up by all those who happened to be in the vicinity. The cry carried up the main road from one crowd to the next.

Howl couldn't believe it. The war was over. He stood as though he'd been turned to stone as the man stumbled away from him to join the swelling throng. After a while, he turned to climb back up the few steps to the castle and saw Sophie, fully clothed, standing in the door's open maw with Calcifer hovering just behind her.

"It's over?" said Sophie, looking just as shocked as he felt.

Howl took her hand and led them back inside.

Michael and Edmund came bolting down the stairs together.

Edmund, hair tousled, looked from Howl to Sophie to Calcifer. "What's going on?" he asked.

"War's over," the fire demon replied. "The people are celebrating."

"Really?" Michael exclaimed. Directing himself to Howl, he said, "Can I go out? I'm going to see Martha!" Not waiting for a reply, he tossed on a pair of boots and a cloak over his pyjamas and made for the door before turning back. "Come on, Edmund! You too."

Edmund's face brightened and he gave a quick look over to Sophie and Howl. As neither one of them protested, he scurried over to the closet to drag on a cloak and shoes of his own. Their odd attire complete—though from the little Howl had seen, it was standard garb tonight—they disappeared through the front door.

It was silent a minute before Calcifer announced, "I'm going back to bed. If you want your way lit for upstairs, I'll wait."

Like they were still playing some bizarre version of chains, Howl guided Sophie by the hand back up to their bedroom. Only when he pulled them inside did he let go of her to shut the door behind them.

Turning back into the room, he had a glimpse of Sophie coming towards him before she flung her arms about his neck and pressed herself into his chest. Howl wrapped his arms around her as well. It was a simple enough action, but even without words spoken between them, it suddenly dawned on him that Sophie too had been more fretful than she'd been letting on these past few months.

But for him.

He always knew to some extent that she had been disturbed to find him gone from bed before the crack of dawn some days or slouched at his workbench in mid-spell others, but never until this moment had he realized how much. Now, she didn't even pretend to hide just how relieved she was on his behalf.

Howl took her by the shoulders and drew her away, but just barely. In the next second, he ducked his head and covered her lips with his. When she fervently responded to him, he could swear the intense love he had for his wife consuming him was like an inferno, obliterating everything else in existence.

/\/\/\/\/\

Knock knock knock knock knock.

Sophie's head shot up from her pillow.

In her sleep-dazed confusion, it took her many seconds to realize that the insistent hammering she was hearing was coming from the front door. Beside her, Howl was still deeply asleep, snoring lightly. She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table to see the time. It was six o' clock, still quite early. A sense of foreboding crept over her while the knocking continued, and as she threw off the covers, she began to have all sorts of sinister visions swim through her mind.

Knock knock knock knock knock.

Who could it possibly be at this hour? Hadn't the boys gotten in all right last night? Was Martha in trouble? Did something happen with Lettie in her condition?

By the time she reached the ground floor, Sophie had agitated herself so much with her imaginings that she wasted no time with Calcifer's incensed ravings and directly threw open the front door.

Two soldiers in all their crisp, officious livery stood on the Kingsbury doorstep. They were both rather young, about her own age, but the uniforms they wore made them look older somehow, more experienced. Sophie was suddenly very aware that she'd come flying downstairs without throwing on so much as a shawl and was facing these strange men in nothing but her nightgown.

Blushing furiously, but drawing herself up to her full height—which didn't amount to much in comparison to her present company—she inquired with all the decorum she could muster, "Can I help you?"

"Mrs. Pendragon?" the fair-haired soldier on the left countered her question with his own in a nasally voice.

"Yes."

"I have a message here from His Highness for Wizard Pendragon." He held out a missive bearing the seal of the Royal Palace, and Sophie reached out to take it. "Please see to it that this reaches his hands immediately."

"I—" but before she could so much as ask what this was about, the soldiers had presented her with their backs and were marching away down the stairs and into the still unpopulated street. "Hmph," was the annoyed sound that escaped her.

As Sophie pushed the door closed, Calcifer snarled after them, "And next time, come back at a more decent hour or I'll roast both your heads and have them for afternoon tea!"

She raised an eyebrow in his direction.

Calcifer didn't waver. "They don't know that I wouldn't actually do it. Neither do you for that matter." He showed her his pointy teeth in an evil grin and promptly rolled under a half-burned log to get back to sleep.

"Sophie?"

Howl was standing at the foot of the stairs with his hand on the banister, his expression sleepy and bemused.

She handed him the letter. "This came for you. It's from the King, though what he could want now…" She knew she sounded childish, but she didn't care.

Looking even more mystified than before, he took it from her and broke the seal, his eyes darting back and forth across the parchment swiftly as he took in its contents.

"I'm to report to the palace in an hour," he told her. He scanned the letter again. "... matter of urgency," he read, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. "What the devil is there to be a matter of urgency now?"

Sophie took the letter back from Howl, wanting to read it for herself.

His Most Excellent Royal Wizard Pendragon,

It is hoped that news of the victory over Strangia has reached you by now, but in anticipation that it has not, it is a pleasure to announce with immense satisfaction the triumph of Ingary and High Norland in the war. Your services were indispensible during this time when your country required aid.

By command of the King of Ingary, your presence is requested in regards to a most pressing matter of urgency. We duly expect your arrival in the Chamber of Delegation at the stroke of seven so that you may provide your assistance in this situation.

His Highness the King of Ingary

Long Live His Majesty

For all its flowery language, Howl was once again being summoned by the King like a dog, expected to drop everything and obey orders.

"The nerve," Sophie glared at the letter. "I'll wring that man's neck I will, king or not…"

She heard Howl laugh lightly at her outburst and her eyes snapped to his face. "I'm coming with you. I'm in a mind to scold His Majesty for being so—so—"

"King-like?" he suggested.

"I'm coming," she repeated, passing him on the stairs to go and change.

Howl came loping up after her while she walked determinedly into their bedroom.

"You'll do no such thing."

"Howl," Sophie turned from her closet with a dress in each hand, just about ready to throw a fit, "this is getting ridiculous. It can't go on like this. Someone needs to talk some sense into that man—"

"—and we'll both wind up in the stockade by the day's end if you do, I'm sure," he finished.

Sophie glowered, but he strode over to her and loosened her grip on her gowns, casting them onto the bed and replacing them with his hands.

"It's not fair," she muttered bitterly.

"And when did fairness ever have anything to do with it?"

She didn't answer him.

"Come now, things are bound to get better now that the war is over," Howl went on cheerfully. "You'll see."

"Fine," Sophie relented lowly.

She hoped he was right, but if this letter was any indication, than she didn't much have faith that things would turn out that way.

/\/\/\/\/\

There was a fierce gale blowing while Howl approached the palace, and it was coming from off the Waste, a fact which caused his shoulders to tense even more than they had been. It was like he was being toyed with, and he didn't like the feeling, not at all.

Just as he was about to mount the towering staircase, he saw a ginger head bobbing along with a quick step and headed straight for him from the other end of the lane.

"I see you received a summons as well."

Ben's craggy face was looking harassed in no uncertain terms as he started up the steps with Howl. "Lord, if you'd only seen Lettie when the messenger came. I thought she was going to box the poor bloke's ears and then come and do the same to the King." He lowered his voice as they passed close to some guards who were stationed along the way. "And believe me, that was the friendliest thing she had in mind."

Howl's lips curled into a smile at that. "Yes, the Hatters are rather bent on getting their points across in the most…demonstrative way possible."

"I take it Sophie wasn't pleased either?"

"You could say that."

In a few minutes, they had reached the top, where they were greeted by the usual footman.

"We have an appointment with the King," Ben told him.

"Indeed. Right this way, gentlemen."

This began the customary, tedious procedure of being handed off from attendant to attendant through the vast maze of palace rooms and yet more staircases until they finally reached the Chamber of Delegation.

"The Royal Wizards Suliman and Pendragon, Your Majesty," proclaimed the final man in the sequence of ushers as he admitted them into the room.

Howl and Ben briskly entered and each made a small bow.

The King was standing with his hands clasped behind his back while he gazed out a window on one end of the cavernous chamber. He took another moment before receiving his callers.

When the King did turn to face them, Howl could see that he was looking very old and very tired, with purplish half-circles under his eyes. He felt the smallest twinge of guilt for being so pitiless.

"Right on time," the King intoned austerely as he eyed them both. "Take a seat."

They advanced into the room and headed for the lavish desk where two high-backed chairs sat while the King settled heavily into a rather more regal-looking armchair on the opposite side.

"I'll get straight to the point as there really is no time to waste," the King began curtly, his fingers forming a steeple before him. "My brother is missing—"

"What?" Ben interrupted stupidly before he could stop himself. "Er, forgive me, Your Majesty."

The King inclined his head slightly to show he'd taken no offense and continued, "Before I go on, explanations are in order. Though our victory in Strangia was absolute, there can be no guarantee that the citizens of that nation will take kindly to a new regime coming in, not when the former one was so beloved. A rebel uprising is the last thing I need on my hands," his face visibly darkened for a moment. "To make the transition of power proceed more smoothly, we have come to an arrangement. Prince Justin is to marry the woman who was to be the next in line to their throne, Princess Beatrice."

Howl watched from the corner of his eye as Ben's mouth pursed into a severe-looking line. It was clear that he wished to object on behalf of his friend, the prince, about these tactics, but didn't quite dare.

As if he sensed a change in the atmosphere of his audience, the King carefully articulated what he had to say next. "Prince Justin himself agreed that this is the best course of action to impose the treaty once Strangia is officially part of the kingdom." His words held an impression of finality that forbade them once and for all from even considering to question his authority on the matter.

"Three weeks ago, Princess Beatrice went missing. At first we believed she had gone into hiding to avoid the marriage, but that was ruled out as a possibility. Some signs of a struggle now lead us to believe that she was kidnapped. We have it on good information that it was not an act of mutiny from the Strangians, but something else altogether."

Something in the manner in which the King pronounced that last sentence left Howl feeling distinctly, and somehow familiarly, chilled to his marrow.

"So Prince Justin went after her?"

"Precisely," nodded the King. "I've been keeping regular correspondence with him the entire time to stay briefed on his progress, but it's been a week since I heard from him last. It was only last night that I was told he set out on a scouting mission through the Strangian forest without his guard detail around that same time and has not returned since."

It occurred to Howl that perhaps the King should consider putting his brother on a leash. After all, he did seem to have quite a flair for getting himself into trouble. Then again, when it came down to it, Sophie had that very same penchant. He imagined her reaction to being magically tethered to the confines of the castle…

"That's not all," the King resumed with a worn out sigh. "Princess Beatrice's abduction is not an isolated incident. Princesses from kingdoms everywhere are being kidnapped; I've had it from the former king of Strangia himself. No ransoms have been issued, no demands stipulated for their return. They are simply taken." It was here that Ben and Howl could see that the man sitting before them was indeed looking strained. "Because of this, I have reason to fear for my daughter."

"Surely Princess Valeria is too young to be at risk," Howl hesitantly asserted. "If the abductor hasn't sought payment for their release…" He hedged on plainly wording what other motives someone could have for stealing away women alone from the powerful families of the world.

"That is what I need you to find out. You have the ability to look into the future, to foresee what will happen. I want to know what I am protecting my child from if she requires it."

"I'll do what I can, Your Majesty."

"See that you do," the King said almost fiercely. "As for you, Suliman, I'd like you to save my men some legwork and determine where Prince Justin has gotten himself to."

"Of course."

The King pushed himself up and stood, forcing Howl and Ben to do the same. "I'm counting on you both."

They each gave another bow and took their leave. It wasn't until they were rid of the prying eyes and ears of the palace and out in the streets of the capital that were just beginning to bustle with life that Ben considered it safe to speak again.

"I can't believe Justin is actually going to go through with it," he muttered under his breath.

"What, marriage?" asked Howl.

"Marriage for political tactic. He was less than thrilled when he told me at my wedding that he and his brother were discussing it as a possibility, but he'd spoken like it was a last resort. I'd no idea he would actually go against his own will. I feel sorry for him."

"Not everyone is as lucky as we've been," Howl pointed out, "but there's nothing we can do about it. There are other things at stake here. Finding the prince, for starters."

"And stolen princesses." Ben grunted. "Justin was asking for it, going off on his own in Strangia; the man's an idiot. But kidnapped daughters of affluent men…. Maybe tomorrow we should meet up to wrap our heads around everything in case we can't manage on our own."

Howl nodded. "I think that would be wise."

"Right then. Good luck with your end."

"And to you with yours."

And with that, they diverged to go their separate ways home.

/\/\/\/\/\

Back at the moving castle, Sophie sat on the common room's couch darning a frayed hem on Howl's emerald-and-gray suit.

Calcifer was nestled in his hearth while Edmund and Michael sat puzzling out some sort of intricate diagram at the workbench. They were together in a rare, cozy sort of quiet companionship, absorbed in their own goings-on.

Sophie gave a sudden wince as the baby sent a particularly forceful kick into her ribs, almost as if to remind her that they were not to be ignored. "I know you're in there," she said irritably, rubbing her stomach, "I haven't forgotten." In an affectionate undertone, she added, "I can already tell you're going to be a little attention-seeker like your father, aren't you?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She looked up. Howl was standing in the open doorway, framed by the snow.

"Because it is," Calcifer deadpanned.

Sparing Calcifer a dirty look, he strolled over to the couch. Sophie could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks while the remark she'd intended to go unheard was being openly thrashed out.

Howl sat beside her, gently pressed his palm at the spot he'd seen her massage a moment ago, and considered the tiny, persistent kicks. "I'll have you know," he said at length, "that my little rugby player is brushing up on their upfield punts," which made Sophie snort.

Then, in a dropped voice that was meant for her alone, "Take it easy on your mother in there, little one."

For some reason, this sent a tingle all through Sophie. In an attempt to compose herself and distract Howl from the effect he was having on her, she asked, "So what did the King have to say?"

It was like a light had switched off in Howl's eyes. "Oh, the usual nonsense. I should probably get on that." He got to his feet quickly, as if trying to put enough space between them to avoid having to say something more straightforward—which, knowing Howl, was all too likely.

The thing was, he didn't give her the chance to corner him for a confession. He was nipping around the common room, gathering an assortment of items for what looked to be a divining spell. With chalk in hand, Howl nimbly sketched a pentagram in the center of the floor and filled each point with squiggles that seemed erratic but she knew were being carefully calculated. When he started positioning crystals to surround the chalk-marks, Sophie returned to her darning, but Calcifer gravitated towards him to look on with interest.

The wording of his conjuring was almost soothing, and as he spoke, a curious sort of calm stole over her.

Only to be broken in the most jarring way possible.

With no warning, Howl gave a yell and went staggering from his place in the center of the pentagram. Sophie's head jolted up to look at him, and she saw Michael and Edmund do the same.

"O uffern," Howl whispered, standing rigid where he'd managed to catch himself. His face had gone deathly pale, making his hair seem even more unnaturally bright than was ordinary.

"Howl?" Sophie exerted herself to get upright and go to him.

He didn't answer, didn't even seem to hear her. "Cyfrgolli, cyfrgolli, cyfrgolli!" his voice rose in volume with every repetition.

Is that Welsh? her racing mind paused to question. "Howl, what is it?" she said tensely. He was beginning to scare her. "Howl."

Then, as though time started back up again, Howl lurched forward in such a way that for a moment Sophie was afraid he was collapsing, but no, he was careening full-tilt towards the bookcase. His apprentices dove out of the way from his hell-bent course.

Howl started yanking book after book down to him, only to toss them heedlessly onto the floor after a quick glance told him they weren't what he was searching for.

Halfway through upturning their little library, he seemed to have been deserted by whatever was possessing him to do it and doubled-back to the workbench. As Howl mixed powders and plant extracts, he flicked his wrist to summon something, and a blank scroll of parchment and a ready-inked quill came scudding to meet him. He wrote with his right hand and continued blending potion ingredients with his left, stopping one every now and again to concentrate more intently on the other.

Sophie could feel Michael and Edmund's eyes on her, waiting for her to do something, but what was she to do?

Walking very carefully as though she was approaching some savage creature, she touched her husband's shoulder. "Howl?"

Physical contact accomplished what her voice alone could not, and Howl's face snapped up. But at the sight of her, Sophie saw his pupils dilate in horror as some revelation still not understood by her crashed over him with all the force of an avalanche. His eyes darted past her to the boys, then to Calcifer, looking at them all as if for the first time.

"Edmund, I want you to pack your things and return to stay with your parents for a while. Take Michael with you, and if you can't," he turned to address Michael directly, "see if Martha can put you up somewhere."

At first, Edmund's eyebrows knit together in an injured sort of way because he thought he was being let go. When he heard Michael was being told the same thing, hurt warped back into utter confusion.

"What is going on?" Sophie demanded more emphatically.

"I said get packing!" Howl barked at his apprentices, neither of whom had yet to move.

They looked at Sophie briefly as if hoping she would stop them, but when she didn't, they went upstairs.

"Calcifer, I need you to help me put up wards, strong ones, the strongest we've got." Then, more to himself than anyone, he muttered, "It's not enough, but maybe if I can buy some time…"

"Howl, I will, you know I will, but—"

The wizard brought the fire demon's sentence short as he turned back to the workbench. In one dexterous move, he folded the sheet of paper he'd written on in half and dusted both sides with the concoction he prepared. He crumpled the lot into his fist and rumbled something. Smoke seeped out from between his clenched fingers. When he opened his hand, Sophie could see that the paper had turned to ash. Howl lifted it to his face and blew on the burnt scraps, sending them scattering into the air where they vanished in little wisps of flame.

It was at this point that Sophie lost it.

"Look at me!" she cried at Howl's back, willing every word she spoke to force him to comply.

Whether it was the effect of her magic or the anguish in her voice that did it she couldn't be sure, but slowly, he turned, fixing her with an unreadable gaze.

"What's happening?"

There was no way for him to slither out, not this time. He drew a shaky breath. "The King asked me to go to him this morning because there's been a string of princess kidnappings. He wanted me to use a divining spell to see whether Princess Valeria is in danger, and from what I saw, she most certainly is. That message I've just sent was a warning for the King."

"All right," Sophie said as if speaking with a child, "but explain to me why you're turning out Michael and Edmund."

Howl looked pained, and if possible, his agitation seemed to increase tenfold. "Because I saw something else."

She took a step closer to him so as not to miss a single word.

"It's coming for us first. It's coming for the castle now."

It was as if her heart had gone and lodged itself in her throat. She made herself speak around it. "What is?"

"I don't know! A monstrous, winged thing. A being more powerful than anything I've ever felt."

He retreated to the bookcase. So that was what he was looking for as he frantically flipped the pages.

Meanwhile, Sophie was rooted to the spot in shock, but where her limbs were deficient, her mind was not. For every dozen half-thoughts that shot by, one was coherent. This was what that wind was trying to caution them of all those months ago. How much time did they have? Could Calcifer defend the castle? Howl didn't seem to think so. It was for the best that the boys went elsewhere until this all blew over.

Calcifer was nodding gravely to something Howl was telling him when Sophie finally regained her sense of hearing. "…a ward at every portal, I don't know where it's coming from…"

"What can I do?"

The pair turned to look at her.

"Nothing," said Howl at once. "Calcifer and I can handle it."

Sophie felt her temper flaring, and she stalked over to him with burning eyes. "Do you really expect me to stand here and do nothing?"

"Calm down," he told her.

"Me calm down?" she spluttered. "Have you seen yourself?"

Howl shouted back, gesturing to her heavily protruding abdomen angrily. "I needn't be concerned about the things you ought to be!"

Her mouth opened to retort, but just as she was about to, Michael and Edmund came jostling down the stairs with a luggage apiece and looking more subdued than ever.

Howl took in the sight of his apprentices staring dolefully at him, and perhaps that was what made him speak more kindly to them than he had up until this point. "All right, Michael, Edmund. Watch yourselves and each other for the time being, do you understand? And keep working on those hex-reversals. I'll see you soon."

"So long, boys," called Calcifer, a bit sadly.

When Sophie walked with Edmund and Michael to the door, she surprised herself with her sudden reluctance to see them go, and without knowing what she was about, pulled each of the boys into a rough embrace.

As Michael returned her unexpected hug, he took the chance to mumble in her ear, "Sophie, what is going on?"

"I hardly know myself," she answered softly. "Now go on, both of you."

She tugged away, shepherding them outside. As Edmund and Michael departed down Kingsbury's icy main road, they kept glancing over their shoulders back at Sophie, who watched them go until they disappeared around a corner.

Before she went inside, she anxiously scanned the skies, half-expecting to see some horrible beast swooping down upon her. But the day couldn't have been more outwardly tranquil, with watery light from the setting sun slanting between the houses of the capital. Still, now she could feel it, the presence of something not quite right, something menacing, making her skin crawl. A high wind was blowing off the Waste accompanied by an eerie whistling.

"That should do it," Calcifer was conveying back in the common room.

Howl made a noncommittal noise, considering Sophie as she walked back towards them. There was a loaded silence among the three of them for a moment.

"Sophie, I need you to leave."

All she could do was stare at him. She couldn't have heard him right. "What?"

"It's not safe here. Go to Wales," he continued like she hadn't said anything, "to my sister's family. Make up a reason why you have to stay there without me and don't come back to Ingary. I'll come for you as soon as I can."

Sophie's mouth fell open. "You must be joking!"

But he clearly wasn't. His face was set in the same expression he had whenever he dug his heels in for one of their rows. And suddenly, the opposite side of the coin that was Howl's overprotective nature turned on her. It was no longer welcome or endearing, but unnerving, crazed even.

He couldn't be serious.

Even as she thought that, a well-known clicking met her ear. She turned her head and could see that the portal knob had rotated black-down, the door's hinges creaking as it opened to reveal an inky blackness just beyond. One look back at Howl, a muscle in his jaw jumping, told her he was prepared to thrust her through it if he had to.

But Sophie's head was exceptionally clear. She was ready for him.

"Door!" she said firmly, "You shut this instant!" which it did accordingly.

"For God's sake, be reasonable, Sophie!"

"If you want me out of it, then cast something to make me go unnoticed," she frenziedly invented.

"It won't do any good, it'll see right through the illusion. You have to go, it's the only way."

"No."

"Sophie," Howl thundered, "don't be selfish! There's more at stake here than your own life. Think of Morgan! You know I'm right, you're just too damn stubborn to admit it."

Sophie was livid. How dare he put that on her? A choice between her husband and her unborn child was no choice at all, only a cruel game life was forcing her to play, designed so that the only possible outcome was for her to lose. "Confound it, Howl! I won't abandon you! This is a fine time for you to get all courageous," she spat.

Howl looked as if he might break something in frustration. "It's not courage!" he roared. "I'm terrified, but most of all for what this thing will do to you and the baby if it gets a hold of you. Don't do this! If I die, it doesn't matter, but you—"

He was cut off unceremoniously as Sophie bridged the small gap between them in two quick strides, quicker than anything she'd done this late in her pregnancy, and clamped her hand over his mouth.

"Shut up!" she whispered hysterically. "Don't you dare say that to me, you…you…you selfish…you heartless…!" To her shame, she felt the unbidden prick of tears rise behind her eyes.

Howl curled his fingers around the hand at his face and lowered them without letting go, looking at her deadly seriously. "There wasn't anything I would've died for before you—"

Sophie slapped him across the face. Hard. Howl's head went jerking to the side from the force of her blow.

"Sophie!" blurted Calcifer.

She was breathing heavily as if she had run for miles, her chest heaving.

Slowly, he turned back to face her again, his eyes wretched. "Listen to me." His sudden gentleness frightened her more than when he was in a towering rage, much more. "I know Megan has never been a friend to you, but if I know my sister, she won't turn you away. It won't be for long…" He was grasping at straws, saying anything true or untrue that came into his head.

"I'm not leaving." She was practically trembling with defiance.

Howl growled, the sound of a man at his wit's end.

Before he could say another word to try and convince her, a white-hot light blinded them both, causing Howl and Sophie to shy away, their upraised hands too late to shield their already dazzled eyes.

It was Calcifer, blazing in all his demonic glory and looking rather intimidating for it. "It's broken through the wards!" he bellowed agonizingly. "It's coming!"

A sound that seemed to make heaven and earth vibrate around them rent the air. The portal wheel in the lintel spun so fast that all four colors blurred together, and the front door burst open. The field of flowers, then Market Chipping, then Kingsbury, and finally the black mist that divided their world from Wales went whirling in and out of existence at such a nauseating pace that they finally seemed to merge.

Howl instinctively threw himself onto Sophie. She clung to him in terror and thought she was shaking until she realized it was him.

Then everything went black.

It was thicker than regular darkness somehow. It felt like a void and suffocating at once, and it permeated every last part of the room. Sophie couldn't even see Calcifer's light, only a moment ago intense as the sun itself and now completely extinguished.

She could feel Howl's mouth pressed into her hair as they clutched each other, not daring to stir. His lips were moving, whispering something.

"Corff dynol, drawsnewid i mewn i cath."

She could barely contemplate what he was doing when a strange stinging ran up her spine and then spread through her whole body. Oh God, she thought wildly, don't be going into labor. Not now.

"Calcifer!" she heard Howl yell in a voice that made her turn cold. He sounded so scared. "Get out, get out, it's too powerful! We'll both be killed!"

And then she was ripped away from Howl. She reached blindly to catch hold of him again, but couldn't. She plunged headlong in some direction, not knowing what was up or down. A burst of wintry air told her she was being thrown outside, and she heard the door slamming shut behind her.

Sophie landed on her hands and knees. She turned to look back at the castle.

But it had vanished.

There was no sign of it anywhere in the swirling snow. Come to think of it, she had no idea why she was here either.

Sophie took in her surroundings. Everything seemed so giant and vague in the blizzard that was raging around her. Not too far off in the distance, she could just make out the immense outlines of rough terrain hazy against the skyline.

She was in the mountains in the northernmost part of Ingary. But how?

Trying to stand, she found she couldn't. Fearfully, she looked down as she attempted to brace herself up again only to see two paws on the ground before her. Sophie let out a gasp, but it came out sounding strange, almost strangled and trill. Darting over to a frozen puddle between the crevice of two rocks with an agility that she shouldn't have had on all fours, she peered at her reflection.

A small, black face with luminous blue eyes stared back at her.

Sophie was a cat.

Another pitiful meow escaped her. Howl must have done it so whoever had attacked the castle wouldn't sense her, that absurd fool.

Thinking of Howl made her feel very desperate. What had become of him? And Calcifer, for that matter? Had they also been flung out to opposite ends of the kingdom, or…?

She shook her head sharply. It wouldn't do to think like that. Instead, she decided to transform herself back. Willing herself to become human again, Sophie shut her eyes tightly. Her tail swished back and forth as if to mock her.

She tried again, putting every ounce of herself into motivating her body to restore itself to the proper size.

Nothing. She was stuck like this.

Sophie was regretting now more than ever how dependent she had become on verbalizing her spells, wishing to no purpose that she'd put more effort into learning how to hone the use of her magic when the power of speech failed her.

Now, however, wasn't the time to feel sorry for herself. She needed to help her family, and in order to do that, she had to begin somewhere.

So, facing away from the mountains to be sure she was heading due south, Sophie went streaking away into the night.

End Author's Notes

…technically, this isn't ending on a cliffhanger. If you want to find out what happens next and don't already know, get yourself a copy of Castle in the Air, but you knew that coming in, didn't you?

I tried to toss in a bit of Welsh in a feeble attempt to be as true to the original as possible. I hope, rather than believe, that I've used the language properly, but if anyone knows otherwise, I'd be indebted to you for pointing it out.

O uffern – Oh hell

Cyfrgolli – Damn

Corff dynol, drawsnewid i mewn i cath – Human body, transform into a cat

Anyone notice the symmetry with the murder-mystery novel opening from the last chapter and the beginning of the day the moving castle was under siege? Foreshadowing and everything. Oh, the cleverness of me. Or at the very least, it balances out my lame spell wording for Howl.

It seems that Sophie has decided to occasionally possess me and make me her plaything. I find myself talking aloud to inanimate objects and people out of an earshot to persuade them to do my bidding. Is this some sort of writer's fatigue after spending so long inside of a character's head?

Please, if you've read this far, leave a review. It doesn't have to be much, but let me know what you liked or disliked about this story. I realize that I added a lot more romance than Diana Wynne Jones's writing style generally allows, so some feedback on that would be excellent. Did it get too sentimental? Was it to the point of being unrealistic? I especially would love to know how the djinn's attack portrayed here compared with how you personally imagined it. No matter how far down the road you're reading this, I'll always be grateful for reviews.

That said, I want to give my absolute heartfelt thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, especially those of you who came back time and again. Your comments mean the world to me, and I can't tell you enough how very much I appreciate each and every single one. Thank you all.