Sophie was rather pleased with herself. It had been easier to be cross with Howl than she had hoped. It helped that he appeared to be completely fit, despite his recent brush with death, or inhumanness, or whatever it was that had almost happened to him. Truthfully, she still didn't exactly understand, despite Marcl's brief explanation. Sophie had feared that she would become hopelessly soppy when he got back.

That he would look at her with his clear, bright eyes and she would just melt into nothing, morph into some pathetic doe-eyed creature like every other woman that ever looked at him. This, she was pleased to say, had not been the case today, although she could not vouch for tomorrow, or the day that would come after that. She would have to rely on Howl's innate talent to really get under her skin to keep her afloat.

Marcl was upset. This wasn't how his own inner narrative of the "Return of Howl" had played out in his mind. He had expected a lot of fawning and soppiness between the two, and then he fully expected them to settle down and then get to the "happily ever after" bit, which is what happened whenever two people fell in love in story books.

Of course this wasn't exactly a story book, but being ten and parentless, story books were the only research materials available to him. As it was, he was a bit vague on the details as to what "ever after" entailed, but he suspected it didn't involve one of the characters being exceptionally cross with the other, while the other one deliberately spent his time seeking to irritate the angry one into being even more upset than before. Adults! They made no sense, even less than the charm Howl had set him to work on as soon as he returned.

It was afternoon, and Howl interrupted Marcl's study, asking him if he would "help him unpack." Marcl nodded eagerly, he had been secretly wondering where Howl was hiding the loot, perhaps he had stowed it on the other side of the valley? Surely he hadn't come back empty handed, anyway.

Howl and his young apprentice stomped out over the grassy hillside to the West of the cottage, finally they crested a small hill and descended into the dip beyond where the shattered remains of the airship rested.

"Well?" Marcl whispered excitedly. Casting about for any signs of whatever Howl had returned with. "Where's the loot? Is it in the ship? Did you hide it with an invisibility spell? Show me!"

"Loot? Marcl," Howl chuckled. "You make me sound like a pirate or something."

"Well, where is it!" Marcl cried. He began to hop up and down, his excitement nearly overwhelming him. This was going to be terrific, he could tell.

Howl smiled and raised a finger to his lips, his hands then found a leather cord that had been lying around his neck. Markl had not noticed it before. Howl produced from underneath his shirt a small brown leather bag.

"Is that what I think it is!" Marcl enthused.

Howl nodded his head and made sure that Marcl was standing well behind him. He undid the cord that bond the bag together and tossed it well away from them. At first nothing was heard but a small hiss issuing from the bag, and then there was a loud pop, and a bang like a cork shooting from a champagne bottle.

Marcl winced at the sudden loud noise and then opened his eyes to behold the previously empty space between them and the ruin of the airship filled with all manner of items. There were bits of wood, planks, bricks, stones, parts of old machinery, books--things that Marcl recognized from their old castle. There were also many new things. There were boxes that appeared to be from a woman's clothier, there were bags of food, a crate of wine, a barrel of mead, and more bags and crates of other things whose contents could not be discerned simply by looking at them.

"Wow! Where did you get the compression bag, Howl! Those are really tricky to make."

"A house warming present from the Wizard Solomon."

"And what about all this new stuff? Is that a dress? Is it for Sophie?" Marcl cried, perhaps his friend and mentor wasn't so totally thick after all. "Is it from you or is it from Solomon as well?"

"Oh no," Howl replied, his tone darkening slightly. "Those are courtesy of another very generous patron. Whom I'm sure we should probably all feel very grateful to, although I must admit I'm having trouble with that at the moment. Come let's start moving the perishable things up to the house."

Marcl obliged happily, glad to be out of the house and out in the sunshine with his teacher once again.

It was night time, they had all eaten exceptionally well. It was first time that they had steak in a long while. Calcifer had been thrilled, gobbling up the fat Sophie had trimmed from the already lean meat. She had made them all potatoes and steamed carrots as well. And they had polished it all off with a glass of the wonderful mead that Howl had brought with them.

Sophie had wondered to herself where on earth Howl had gotten the money for all of these things, but she had preferred for the time being not to ask, afraid as she was of how exactly he might answer. For although they had done well at the flower shop, they had lost most of their earnings down the Cliffside when the castle had come a part.

The witch had been tucked into bed, and Marcl was soon sent back to the room that he and Howl shared, protesting sleepily. Now Howl and Sophie were left alone watching Calcifer doze in the grate.

"Is he alright?" Sophie asked. "Calcifer, I mean. He's been really tired lately, he doesn't seem quite himself."

Howl smiled at her concern.

"Yes, he'll be fine," he sighed. "Calcifer will be alright, thanks to you."

He heard the intake of her breath as she went to ask him the same question, this time about his own health, and stopped her before she had the chance to start

"Sophie," he said as he stood. "There are some things I'd like to show you. They're waiting for you out on the porch."

Her curiosity piqued, Sophie got up to follow him. Howl grabbed the lantern from beside the door, lit it with his magic. She followed him into the starlit night and watched as he hung the lantern on a hook on the ceiling. There in the wavering lamplight, in a heap at the corner of the porch was a pile of boxes. They bore names like Ladysmith of Kinsbury, and Harlequin Hatters. She felt her heart skip a beat, what had Howl done now?

He watched her as she stepped toward the boxes and began to open the one on top. He listened to the rustle of the paper within and heard her small gasp as she brought out what was within it.

Sophie had hardly seen anything finer in her life, it was a gown, of the softest silk and a color so white that it glowed in the moonlight. She felt ashamed just to touch it with her dishpan hands. The bodice gleamed with a hundred tiny crystals, embroidered in a rich brocade that encircled the hem at the top of the gown.

It was so beautiful, why had Howl gotten it for her? What did it mean? She was about to turn around and yell at him for having spent so much money on her when they really had none when she felt him behind her. She swallowed hard, trying to beat back the way the smell of his body and the heat that seemed to roil off his skin wanted to make her fold backwards into his chest.

"Personally," he said, his voice strangely icy. "I'd prefer you in gray, or perhaps a warm pink, it brings out the color in your cheeks."

"Then why did you…" she began to ask.

"I didn't, actually," he retorted, cutting her short, inwardly he added, although I certainly would have if I could afford it.

"Then who, Howl?" Sophie asked bewildered, putting the dress down and replacing the cover of the box, as if the contents suddenly offended her.

"Oh dear Sophie, there is a very rich man indebted to you. A man who in fact, owes his life to you, and who, in fact, claims that you've done nothing short of stealing his heart away."

"Prince Justin!" Sophie gasped, realization catching up to her like a rude slap to the face. "Prince Justin? This is all from him?"

"Not just this, he supplied us with our meal this evening, and with many other useful items, including this."

Howl grabbed Sophie's hand and turned it up, depositing in it a small but heavy bag, containing a fortune in platinum coins. Sophie did not know what to think. Even more troubling than the Prince's largesse was Howl's blase attitude toward it all. Perhaps he really didn't care about her after all, perhaps the ease with which he was presenting this all to her was his way of acting on the Prince's behalf, as a liaison for him, a matchmaker even.

Suddenly Sophie felt very, very sick, and quite overwhelmed, she wished that Howl had not told her about this, that they had remained sitting in front of Calcifer, in amiable silence.

Howl was trying his best to keep his opinions out of this situation. He had of course contemplated burning the dresses, the hats, the shoes, throwing the money down a deep dark well and taking only those essential things which Sophie would have expected him to bring back with him from his trip.

When the Wizard Solomon had handed him the compression bag, she had told him that the bag itself was a gift from her, and the contents were a gift from the Prince, to Sophie. And then Solomon had told him, in her infinitely wise and sly way that this compression bag could be made to fit many other items, enough items for him to begin rebuilding his domicile once again. But of course, she had told him, the Prince's gifts aught to be removed first.

It was a thinly veiled excuse for him to snoop about, an excuse he didn't need. If Howl was up against the Prince to win Sophie's favor he would grab any advantage he got. And so Howl had inspected the contents of Turnip Head's gift, dismayed by the richness of the array. However, Howl had stopped short of reading the letter that the Prince had sealed within, he was not quite a villain as all that, or so he had told himself.

Now that he looked at Sophie's wondering face he frankly wished that he had torn the note up and thrown everything into a roiling river. But the Prince was a powerful man, and although Sophie had refused him once before, it was apparent that he would not stop his meddling just yet. Howl wanted so much to chase after the Prince and turn him into yet another garden vegetable when he had learned that he, Howl, was meant to convey the gifts.

The nerve, to have him deliver this package to Sophie, the very woman that he himself…that he…the sentence stuck in his head, without an end to it…never mind…he would be fair, well as fair as he could manage. Sophie would get a chance to decide her own heart, even if it felt like he'd been knifed in his, through the back at that. He retrieved the letter from the pocket of his coat and waved it in front of Sophie's stunned visage.

"What's that?" she murmured, returning from the melee of her inner thoughts.

"A love letter, probably," he teased, his own light hearted tone echoing nastily in his head. "From your boyfriend, would you like me to read it to you?"

He was pleased to see her scowl at the "boyfriend" bit, although perhaps she reacted so negatively simply because he was baiting her.

"Howl, don't be so immature, give that to me," she said as he held the letter high over her head.

"I'm not going to jump for it," she said as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. He looked down at her bright, angry face, he knew he was alive when he saw those eyes flashing at him. His smile deepened.

"You don't want to know what old Turnip Head has to say?"

"He's a prince you know, you aught not to call him that, and yes I am interested," she replied. "But I'm not about to beg you for it."

"Then I guess you'll just never know," he said. Sophie watched as he held the letter by its edges before dramatically twitching his wrist, the letter disappeared into thin air and he held out his hands to her, shaking out his sleeves, like the street magician in Market Chipping, as if to say, "not up this one, either."

"Look if you're so keen on keeping it to yourself you can go ahead and read it! You can give me the summary!" she huffed, exasperated by his sudden reversion to a pre-adolescent state.

He smiled at her triumphantly, as if he had just won some sort of battle that she didn't even know they were fighting. Howl lifted up his hand and reached theatrically for her ear, brushing her earlobe with his fingertips before pulling the letter out of thin air next to her face. Before she could stop herself she found her hand straying toward her ear, like her hand had as a child, when the street magician and retrieved a coin from it.

Howl chuckled at her gesture, and tore open the letter, leaning on the porch railing as she sat on a crate of Gods knew what, courtesy of an infatuated monarch. She watched in the lantern light as Howl mouthed the words of the Prince's missive.

"Well, read it out loud," she scolded him.

"Oh yes, of course," he said. "Ah, where was I…Dearest Sophie…your lips are like twin barriers holding back paradise, broad and tender, if I could draw upon their sweetness with my own, your eyes--deep and warm, like the richest earth, your hair, as silvery bright as frost and starlight, your…oh dear, Sophie" Howl gave her a conspiratorial wink before continuing. "…your breast is…"

"Howl!" Sophie cried, springing up from the crate, her cheeks aglow. She snatched the letter from him and looked at it. It was only a few short sentences long. It read:

Dearest Miss Hatter,

Do forgive the impertinence of these gifts. It is only that, as well I know, you were recently robbed of everything that you owned in that disastrous escape. Please accept these small offerings as a token of my gratitude, with the hope that they will help to see you back on your feet.

I wish also to extend to you an invitation to Kingsbury, where I may entertain you and your party in style as I endeavor to fulfill my debt to you personally.

Your Servant,

Justin

"Howl!" she gasped, as he began to laugh. "He didn't say anything at all about my…my…eyes…Gods you are an insufferable, wicked man!"

Sophie had nearly died hearing those words coming from Howl's mouth. It had been exquisite and painful at the same time, and the nerve of the Prince to write such things about her! And now she found that Howl was only playing her.

If anything gaining his heart had only made him more nasty, she thought. All day he had harried her, and she him in return. Perhaps his heart told him to send her away after all, to pester her until she left.

Howl leaned against the railing of the porch next to her, together they gazed out into the moonlit expanse of shining grass.

"Will you go to him?" Howl asked finally, his chest felt suddenly tight, he knew he could not exhale until she answered.

"I don't know," she said. Honestly Sophie wasn't sure what any of this meant. She was sick of being stuck in the mountains, of that she was certain.

"Why? Do you think I should?" She asked, praying silently that he would tell her an emphatic no. Tell her that he loved her, or that he at least didn't mind seeing her face around the place everyday. Oh please, anything, anything, the smallest sign that he might want to keep her here with him, or there with him, or anywhere, as long as their little family could be together.

Howl considered for a moment, knowing what he would like to say, what the newly regained, throbbing voice inside his body was crying for him to tell her, Princes and Empires be damned. At the same time he had to admit that he was incredibly frightened, for the first time in a long time he had a heart to be broken, and what was perhaps even worse than the thought that it should break, was the possibility that she would say yes. Could he take care of her? Could he keep her? Would she grow bored with him? In the end he settled on his usual defense, coyness.

"He could certainly take care of you, 'in style,' as he said." Much better than I ever could.

Sophie sighed heavily, so that was it, was it?

"You certainly set a lot of stock in style, don't you, Howl? Fine, if that's what you think, I will go, then."

Howl felt suddenly bereft, what had he done? He thought that he was giving her space, but was he pushing her away, instead? Sophie stood up and turned toward the door, he was about to stop her, to grab her and plead with her to stay, when she turned again, her eyes gleamed wetly at the corners.

"Howl?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes," he responded, his heart seemed to falter, to lurch forward in his chest as he looked at her.

"Howl, will you…come with me?" she asked finally, not looking him in the eye.

"Yes," he responded, smiling. Perhaps he hadn't fouled things up completely just yet.

"Yes Sophie, I would be honored to escort you to Kingsbury."