The moving castle was never quiet, not really. Even when Calcifer’s fire dimmed low in the hearth and the gears beneath the floor slowed to a lazy grind, there was always the soft creak of wood and the faint sigh of magic shifting in its bones. Tonight, though, that constant hum was punctuated by something far more theatrical. Howl was sulking.

He paced the narrow stretch between the table and the window, silk sleeves billowing in the draft each time he turned sharply on his heel. His hair—still black from a recent transformation—fell forward in smooth, shining curtains that framed his sharply narrowed eyes. “It’s unthinkable,” he announced to no one in particular, voice pitched in the sort of aggrieved tone reserved for personal tragedies. “Leaving me to deal with her alone—do you have any idea what I’ve endured?”

Calcifer crackled, his flames flickering with amusement. “You mean she offered you tea?”

“She interrogated me,” Howl corrected, stabbing a finger toward the hearth like it was evidence. “About my whereabouts, about my guests, about… everything! I had to sit there—utterly defenseless—without you to distract her!”

He stopped pacing long enough to lean dramatically against the table, one hand pressed to his chest as if shielding a wound. “You could have been my escape route,” he said, dropping his voice to a tragic murmur. “But no. I had to suffer.”

The castle shifted underfoot, as if rolling its eyes.

When you stepped inside, the air seemed to change. Howl’s head snapped toward you instantly, dark eyes wide and shining with an indignance that bordered on childlike. “Do you know what time it is?” he demanded, sweeping toward you in a swirl of his trailing coat. “I’ve been abandoned, Sophie’s been gone all day, Calcifer’s been impossible, and you—” He stopped short, narrowing his gaze as he looked you over. “You don’t even look guilty.”

Before you could answer, his hands found your shoulders, shaking you lightly as if the movement alone could jostle some remorse loose. “I had to endure things, terrible things, without you. I am scarred.”

He released you only to turn away and throw both arms into the air, sending a faint ripple of magic through the room. A stack of books tumbled from the shelf in protest, a curtain swished open as though caught in a sudden wind, and the teacup on the table rattled noisily. Calcifer’s flames flared in mild alarm.

“Howl,” Calcifer warned, “you’re leaking magic again.”

“I am expressing myself,” Howl retorted, whirling back to face you. His voice softened, pout settling into place like a crown on a king’s head. “Next time, you are coming with me. I don’t care if I have to drag you through the portal myself.”

The last of his storm seemed to break as he stepped closer, one hand sliding down from your shoulder to your arm. The fight in his voice gave way to something more fragile, almost boyish. “Don’t leave me to suffer alone,” he murmured, resting his forehead briefly against your shoulder with a sigh that could have put out a candle.

Calcifer rolled his eyes—or would have, if he had any. “You’re hopeless.”

The castle groaned again, and you could almost swear it was agreeing with him.