Crown of Shadows.

Diplomatic Disasters

Princess Lyralei had survived assassins, corrupt nobles, mystical training in otherworldly realms, and even her own uncle's treachery. But nothing – absolutely nothing – had prepared her for the unique torture that was a formal state dinner with foreign dignitaries who had apparently left their manners in whatever godforsaken kingdom they'd crawled out of.

"Princess Lyralei," announced the herald with the kind of ceremonial pomposity that made her want to throw something sharp, "may I present Lord Commander Theron Blackwater of the Crimson Isles, and his diplomatic envoy."

Lyralei curtsied with perfect grace, her pale pink silk gown rustling softly as she dipped her head in polite acknowledgment. Lord Commander Blackwater was exactly what she'd expected from his reputation – tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of rugged handsomeness that probably made serving wenches swoon across three kingdoms. What she hadn't expected was for him to look at her like she was a particularly interesting specimen in a jar.

"Your Highness," Blackwater said, his voice carrying the kind of confidence that suggested he'd never met a problem he couldn't solve with either charm or violence. "Your beauty precedes you, though I confess the reports were woefully inadequate."

Standard diplomatic flattery, Lyralei noted. Though delivered with enough sincerity to suggest he either meant it or was a significantly better actor than most visiting nobles.

"You're too kind, Lord Commander," she replied with a demure smile. "I hope your journey wasn't too arduous?"

"Nothing that couldn't be overcome," he said, though something in his eyes suggested there was more to that story. "Though I admit, I'm curious about the... security measures your kingdom has implemented recently."

Lyralei's internal alarm bells began ringing, but her expression remained pleasantly vacant. "Security measures? Oh, you must mean Father's decision to increase the guard patrols. Such a worry-wart, our king. Always fretting about bandits and highway robbers."

"Indeed," Blackwater said slowly. "Though I was referring more to the rather dramatic decrease in certain... unsavory elements among your nobility."

Before Lyralei could respond to what was sounding increasingly like a veiled accusation, she was saved by the arrival of the most ridiculous man she'd ever had the misfortune to encounter.

"Ah, Princess!" boomed a voice that could probably be heard three kingdoms over. "The radiant flower of Aethermoor graces us with her presence!"

Sir Percival Bumblethorne – and yes, that was apparently his real name – swept into an elaborate bow that involved so many flourishes Lyralei briefly worried he might tie himself in knots. He was dressed in what could only charitably be described as an explosion of purple velvet, complete with peacock feathers in his hat and enough jewelry to fund a small army.

"Sir Percival," she managed, fighting back the urge to laugh. "How... colorful you look this evening."

"You notice! Such an artistic eye, Your Highness!" Percival straightened with obvious pride. "This ensemble was specially commissioned from the finest tailors in the Eastern Provinces. The purple represents nobility, while the gold threading symbolizes prosperity, and the peacock feathers—"

"Symbolize that you have too much money and not enough sense," Lord Commander Blackwater muttered under his breath.

Lyralei had to cough to cover her snort of laughter. Apparently, Blackwater's diplomatic skills didn't extend to suffering fools gladly.

"—represent the soaring heights of cultural refinement!" Percival continued, oblivious to the insult. "But enough about fashion. Princess, I simply must tell you about my latest poetic composition! It's an epic ballad about a brave knight who rescues a beautiful maiden from a terrible dragon!"

"How... original," Lyralei said faintly.

"Would you like to hear it? I have it memorized, naturally. 'Oh maiden fair with golden hair, trapped in tower high—'"

"Perhaps," Blackwater interrupted smoothly, "the Princess would prefer to hear about more... current events? I understand there's been some excitement in the capital recently."

There it was again. Lyralei's smile didn't waver, but her mind was racing. Blackwater clearly knew something about her nighttime activities, or at least suspected. The question was how much, and what he planned to do about it.

"Excitement?" she asked innocently. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"The sudden confessions and executions," Blackwater clarified. "Quite remarkable how so many corrupt nobles have suddenly developed consciences."

"Oh yes!" Percival chimed in enthusiastically. "Dreadful business, all of it. Though I must say, there's something rather romantic about the whole thing. A mysterious figure bringing justice to the downtrodden! Like something out of a ballad!"

"Romantic?" Blackwater's eyebrow arched. "I'd call it concerning. Vigilante justice has a way of spiraling out of control."

Lyralei felt a flash of irritation. "Surely justice is justice, regardless of its source? If the proper authorities fail to protect the innocent, is it not natural that someone else would step forward?"

"Spoken like someone who's never had to clean up after such 'justice,'" Blackwater replied. "Vigilantes have a tendency to decide who's guilty based on rumor and personal vendetta rather than evidence and law."

"And the law has such a sterling record of protecting children from predators and slaves from their masters," Lyralei shot back, her temper flaring despite her better judgment.

Blackwater's eyes sharpened. "An interesting perspective for a sheltered princess."

Shit. She'd let her mask slip. Lyralei quickly arranged her features into a look of delicate distress. "Forgive me, Lord Commander. I fear I've been reading too many tragic tales lately. They leave me quite overwrought."

"Tragic tales indeed," he murmured, but his expression suggested he wasn't buying her innocent act.

"Perhaps we should move to dinner?" she suggested, desperate to change the subject. "I believe Cook has prepared roasted swan in honey glaze."

"Magnificent!" Percival declared. "Though I should warn you, I've composed a dinner song for the occasion. It's called 'Ode to Culinary Excellence' and has seventeen verses!"

Both Lyralei and Blackwater turned to stare at him in horror.

"Seventeen?" Lyralei repeated weakly.

"Oh yes! Each verse dedicated to a different course. I'm particularly proud of the stanza about soup – 'Oh broth so fine, like liquid divine, you warm the very soul—'"

"Perhaps," Blackwater interrupted desperately, "we could save the performance for after dinner? Allow the food to... inspire the proper appreciation?"

Lyralei shot him a grateful look. Whatever his suspicions about her nocturnal activities, at least he was willing to form an alliance against the greater threat of Percival's poetry.

As they made their way to the dining hall, Lyralei found herself walking between the two men – Blackwater on her left, radiating competent suspicion, and Percival on her right, radiating weaponized enthusiasm.

"You know," Percival confided in what he probably thought was a whisper but was actually loud enough to be heard in the next kingdom, "I've been thinking about this Shadow Princess fellow."

Lyralei nearly tripped over her own feet. "The what now?"

"Oh, you haven't heard? That's what the common folk are calling this mysterious vigilante. Quite dramatic, don't you think? Though I suspect it's actually a man. After all, what woman could possibly have the strength and skill for such work?"

Lyralei's eye twitched. "What an... interesting assumption."

"Elementary deduction, really," Percival continued proudly. "Women are far too delicate for such violent work. No, it's obviously a disgraced knight or perhaps a fallen nobleman seeking redemption. I'm thinking of writing an epic about it – 'The Ballad of the Shadow Knight!'"

"How about 'The Ballad of the Insufferable Ass?'" Lyralei muttered under her breath.

"I beg your pardon?" Percival asked.

"I said, 'How about some wine with dinner, alas?'" she improvised quickly.

"Brilliant! Wine always improves poetry. Though I should warn you, alcohol tends to make me even more creative. Last time I had wine at a formal dinner, I composed a twenty-three verse epic about the butter course!"

Blackwater made a sound that might have been a strangled laugh or possibly a cry for help.

The dining hall was magnificent, as always – long tables laden with the finest silver and crystal, candles casting warm light over polished wood, and enough food to feed a small army. King Aldwin sat at the head table, looking every inch the wise ruler, though Lyralei could see the weariness in his eyes. The stress of recent events was taking its toll.

"Ah, Lord Commander," the king greeted as they approached. "I trust you're finding our hospitality adequate?"

"More than adequate, Your Majesty," Blackwater replied with a formal bow. "Though I confess myself curious about the current state of affairs in your kingdom."

Here we go again, Lyralei thought. She was beginning to suspect that Blackwater had come here specifically to investigate the Shadow Princess. The question was whether he represented a threat or merely an annoyance.

"Affairs are quite stable, thank you," King Aldwin replied diplomatically. "We've recently dealt with some... administrative issues, but nothing that should concern our allies."

"Administrative issues," Blackwater repeated thoughtfully. "Is that what we're calling it?"

Before the king could respond, Percival launched himself into the conversation with all the subtlety of a catapult.

"Oh, you must mean the executions! Fascinating stuff, really. Though I maintain the whole thing has the makings of a wonderful romance. A mysterious hero, corrupt villains meeting their just deserts, the triumph of good over evil – it's practically writing itself!"

"Romance?" Blackwater looked incredulous. "Men are dying, Sir Percival."

"Guilty men," Percival pointed out cheerfully. "And death can be quite romantic when it serves the cause of justice. Why, in my ballad about Sir Galahad the Righteous, the hero's noble death defending a village from bandits is the most moving part!"

"That's because Sir Galahad the Righteous is fictional," Blackwater said with strained patience.

"Details!" Percival waved dismissively. "The important thing is the emotional truth. Speaking of which, would you like to hear my latest composition? It's about a princess who—"

"No," Lyralei, Blackwater, and King Aldwin said simultaneously.

Percival looked hurt. "But you haven't even heard the premise—"

"We don't need to," Lyralei said firmly. "I'm sure it's... very artistic."

"It is! It's about a princess who secretly trains as a warrior to protect her kingdom from—"

Lyralei choked on her wine. "Excuse me?"

"Are you alright, dear?" King Aldwin asked with concern.

"Fine," she wheezed. "Just... went down the wrong way."

Blackwater was watching her with undisguised interest. "Please, Sir Percival, do continue. This sounds... illuminating."

"Well," Percival began, warming to his subject, "the princess pretends to be weak and helpless, but secretly she's been trained by a mysterious master in the arts of combat. By night, she prowls the kingdom delivering justice to evildoers!"

The silence that followed was so complete that Lyralei could hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

"How... imaginative," she managed.

"Isn't it? I call her the Warrior Princess of Shadows! She has magical powers and can defeat entire armies single-handedly!"

"Magical powers?" Blackwater asked dryly.

"Oh yes! She can turn invisible, fly through the air, and her sword bursts into flames when she fights for justice!"

Lyralei relaxed slightly. At least Percival's version was so ridiculous that no one would connect it to reality.

"And how does this story end?" King Aldwin asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation toward safer ground.

"She falls in love with a handsome foreign knight who initially suspects her true identity but eventually becomes her partner in the fight for justice!" Percival declared triumphantly. "They marry and rule together, bringing peace and prosperity to all the land!"

Lyralei glanced at Blackwater and found him looking back at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. There was something almost... amused in his eyes, as if he were enjoying some private joke.

"Fascinating," he said softly. "And what gave you the inspiration for such a... specific story?"

"Oh, you know how it is," Percival said with a vague wave of his hand. "The mind of a true artist draws inspiration from everywhere. Dreams, legends, random observations about people who might not be exactly what they seem..."

He looked directly at Lyralei as he said the last part, and for one terrifying moment, she wondered if the ridiculous peacock of a man might actually be more perceptive than he appeared.

Then he ruined the effect by adding, "Plus, I had the most marvelous dream about flying horses last week, and I wanted to work them into the story somehow."

Crisis averted. Percival was exactly as ridiculous as he seemed.

The rest of the dinner passed in relative peace, though Lyralei noticed that Blackwater continued to watch her with thoughtful eyes. She made sure to maintain her delicate princess act – gasping at tales of violence, changing the subject when conversations grew too serious, and generally behaving like someone whose greatest concern was whether the roses in the garden were blooming properly.

But as the evening wound down and the guests began to retire, Blackwater approached her one final time.

"Princess," he said with a formal bow, "might I have a word in private?"

Every instinct Lyralei had screamed danger, but refusing would be more suspicious than accepting. "Of course, Lord Commander. Though I hope you don't mind if we keep it brief – all this excitement has left me quite fatigued."

They stepped onto a nearby balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief after the stuffiness of the dining hall. For a moment, they stood in silence, looking out over the moonlit gardens.

"Beautiful night," Blackwater observed.

"Yes," Lyralei agreed carefully. "Perfect for... peaceful contemplation."

"Or other activities," he said meaningfully.

Lyralei's hand instinctively moved toward where her knife would normally be hidden, only to remember she was wearing a formal gown with no weapons concealment. She was effectively helpless – or at least, as helpless as someone with supernatural strength and combat training could be while wearing silk.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said.

Blackwater smiled. "I think you know exactly what I mean, Your Highness. The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

The way he said 'we' sent a chill down her spine. Was he threatening her? Proposing an alliance? Offering to expose her unless she cooperated with some scheme?

"Lord Commander," she said carefully, "I fear you may have me confused with someone else."

"Do I?" He stepped closer, and Lyralei tensed for combat. "Tell me, Princess – have you ever been to the Crimson Isles?"

The question caught her off guard. "I... no. I've never traveled beyond our kingdom's borders."

"Pity. You'd find it interesting. We have our own version of your Shadow Princess there. We call him the Red Phantom."

"How... coincidental."

"Isn't it?" Blackwater's smile turned predatory. "Of course, our Red Phantom made the mistake of targeting the wrong people. Specifically, he made the mistake of targeting my people."

Understanding dawned like a cold sunrise. "You're not here as a diplomat."

"Oh, but I am," Blackwater assured her. "I'm here to diplomatically request that your kingdom's vigilante problem be... resolved. Before it becomes an international incident."

"And if it can't be resolved?"

"Then I'll resolve it myself." His hand moved to rest casually on his sword hilt. "I've made a career of hunting people who think they're above the law, Princess. And I'm very, very good at it."

Lyralei felt a familiar thrill of anticipation. Finally, a real challenge. Someone who might actually pose a threat to her carefully constructed double life.

"How exciting," she said with wide-eyed innocence. "Do be careful, Lord Commander. I've heard this Shadow Princess can be quite dangerous."

"So have I," he replied softly. "I'm looking forward to finding out just how dangerous."

As he turned to leave, Lyralei called after him. "Lord Commander? You might want to be prepared for disappointment. What if your famous quarry turns out to be nothing more than a sheltered princess with an overactive imagination?"

Blackwater paused at the doorway and looked back at her. "Then I suppose I'll have to find a new hobby, won't I?"

After he was gone, Lyralei remained on the balcony, her mind racing. She had a new enemy – one who seemed to know exactly who and what she was. The game had just become significantly more interesting.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but notice that for the first time in three years, she'd met someone who didn't bore her to tears.

Even if he was planning to kill her.