The Old Ogre Inn was beginning to feel like home. Especially his private room, where he had resumed a routine similar to what he had left behind in Grunwold. He worked in the mornings; he walked in the afternoons; he read in the evenings.

He had never needed excitement. He liked quiet days, ordinary days. Where nothing was expected to happen. Disruptions and surprises - even pleasant ones - frustrated him because they altered the course of his day, swerving him in a new direction like a hard yank on the reins of a horse.

Which was why Willow felt uncommonly angry as he shoved his belongings into a travel bag. The yank had come in the form of a short letter from his mother, informing him that Maple was "in desperate trouble" and needed support. Which meant he had to leave at once.

He rolled up a pair of trousers and shoved them in the bag. He felt guilty about his anger, but couldn't help it. He knew exactly what this was: another Maple crisis. She had several per year, requiring the family to flock to her side. During these crises, she usually lay in bed, cried a lot, needed lots of talks and hand holding. None of which was wrong.... It was her triggers that annoyed Willow.

"Did someone blink at her the wrong way?" Willow muttered, pushing his nightshirt in after the trousers. A little thing like that could have Maple wallowing in self-pity for weeks, convinced the whole world was plotting against her. But that wasn't it, either. He didn't have to fully understand a person's sorrow to show compassion. Suffering was suffering.

No, it was the strong sensation he felt that beneath the tears and desperation, Maple enjoyed her crises a little and was in no hurry to have them pass. She liked the attention - he could tell. She liked the gifts and visits from friends. She liked people whispering about her with grave looks on their faces. To put it bluntly, she loved playing the victim. And his mother made it worse by always summoning the family and giving Maple's theatrics more audience than he thought she needed.

Willow shouldered his bag and left the room. "Just wish she had told me," he said to himself as he headed down the stairs. Was Maple at the point of death? Or was this one like the last calamity, caused because she had discovered a gray hair on her head? Three weeks of coddling had followed that earthquake. It got hard to remain sympathetic.

"Roke." Willow stopped by the counter of the common room. "I have to leave for a week or two. Please hold the room for me." He knew better than to ask Roke for money back for the days he wouldn't be using. And he suspected Roke would rent the room, anyway.

"Everything alright?" Roke asked.

"Probably." Willow sighed. He very much did not want to make this trip. "I'll saddle Rupy myself. Don't bother."

Roke leaned on the counter and smirked. "This doesn't have anything to do with the visitor, does it?"

"What visitor?"

"A large carriage from Grunwold passed through today. I saw it. With the royal crest on the door. Doesn't take a genius to suppose it was heading for the castle."

Willow felt his stomach tighten. "When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Who was in it?"

"Couldn't see. The curtain was down. But I have my guesses."

Willow almost never used swear words, but one slipped out involuntarily. "Thank you for telling me." He strode out of the inn, wanting to beat his head against the wall. NOW? King Jarrod wasn't due for... another week or so. If it was King Jarrod. This was just another mean tactic, showing up early, with the probable intention of flustering Maelyn. She didn't need this.

He walked around to the back of the inn and let Rupy out of her stall. He felt torn in two as he fastened the saddle. Maple... or Maelyn? Did Maelyn even need him at all? She had all those sisters to help her, and they would rise to the challenge. But he still would have liked to show support.

He rode Rupy out to the dirt road and sat there a moment, in front of the inn, under a sky fast losing its light. He would get maybe two hours of travel in before he'd have to stop. Not worth it? Wait until morning? But what if his sister was actually dying?

Maple was not his favorite person. But she was still his sister. Willow glanced at the forested hill in the distance, where the lumen trees hid the castle from his view. Maelyn wouldn't be fine. But she would cope. She was a stronger woman than Maple, and his first duty was to his family. He just hated the timing of this.

Willow exhaled audibly, then set his teeth and started Rupy on the road back to Grunwold.