“So let me get this straight,” Rowen lounged on a couch in the suite reserved for them and their royal guard. Everyone was eating freshly baked breakfast scones, stuffed with green onion and a sharp cheddar cheese. There was only a half-hour until the Continental Council meeting, and Rowen was eating up more than breakfast.

  The Dark Enchanted Forest was always a delight of drama and adventure.

  “Princess Henrietta was kidnapped by Marquess Chadwick, with the help of her parents, and she escaped because Knight Commander Havork broke his Paladin Oath to free her. She fought off the kidnappers, arrived back here, and then left with Gerda the Bridge Troll to go and rescue King Keith– who also got himself kidnapped by Marquess Chadwick with the help of the Drendil royals.” Rowen took a bite of their scone, chewing it slowly. No one spoke in the silence, and the royal continued, “The princess and the troll found the kidnapper’s hide out, defeated his goons, rescued the Dark Lord, and carted everyone back here for justice.”

  “Yes.” Bastian nodded. The poor boy had been on edge all last night and it showed. Not because of the kidnapping. No. He’d spent the entire evening hovering over his fiancé. They hadn’t signed the contract yet, but Rowen saw where the arrow was headed. Bastian was a drakin after all– Countess Peregrine probably didn’t know what that meant yet.

  Any other evening, and Rowen would have ordered Bastian to join the search. A favour from the Dark Enchanted Forest was worth a lot… they could hold it over Keith's head for all of time, and enjoy watching the demi squirm.

  But the ruler let their knight commander alone instead. It was equally entertaining watching the drakin war with himself.

  “This is going to be fun.” Rowen stood and dusted off their hands of scone crumbs. “I’ll go see what I can do for our dark friends– and I expect you’ll have your own good news when I return.”

  “If I may…” Unexpectedly, Sir Rebecca stepped forward. “Why must we align ourselves with Sumbria? Even going so far as to sacrifice the commander–”

  “Rebecca.” Bastian’s cold voice cut through, making the lizardkin stop short. She didn’t hide her displeasure though.

  “It’s been twenty years.” Rowen didn’t let on that they still held a deep grudge against the elven nation. They also didn't bother repeating the trade agreement points in their favor - only adding, “And I miss Sumbrian peaches.”

  With that, Rowen swept out of the room, followed closely by Commander Carsen. Rebecca sighed and cast one last look at the commander before following Rowen.

  There was obviously more to the treaty than delicious fruit. Still, no one cultivated fruit like the elves, and it was an excellent add on to the negotiations.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The details would come later. After Bastian’s meeting. No sense influencing the boy's heart with politics on top of everything else. The idea to have him marry the Sumbrian Prime Minister’s daughter was one of the fox's better plans.

  When Rowen arrived at the meeting hall, they noted with amusement that Crown Prince Deryl wasn’t seated in the Sumbrian chair. He was nowhere to be seen. Good.

  The Grand Pontiff was so much easier to manipulate.

  …

  Lishinia was furious.

  Her mistress, poisoned. What use was a Knight Commander when he couldn’t even protect her lady for an evening?

  The Dark Lord himself had done a better job than the lady’s own fiancé. It was ridiculous. Unacceptable.

  And worst of all, Lish wasn’t sure the commander wasn’t the one who’d poisoned her lady himself. Countess Peregrine had assured her that the man wasn’t upset by the things he’d overheard with Crown Prince Deryl– but List didn’t believe a word.

  The Crown Prince had all but yelled that Peregrine should trap him into marriage for political gains, and the commander said he was fine with that? No. The villain was lying or getting something out of this.

  It was a tragedy.

  Not only had Peregrine lost the love of her life, but she was being sent off to some manipulative giant beast who might very well be out to assassinate her! In the best case, he didn’t care enough to protect her. Unacceptable.

  “Lish?” Peregrine’s soft questioning voice drew her back to the present. Trapped in her whirling thoughts, the maid had paused too long while putting up Peregrine’s hair.

  “Just this last curl, and then you're ready.” Lish twisted a strand and pinned it to clip on the back of her ladies head. The top part was pulled back and secured with a long V silver hair clip, letting her hair fall in pink waves down the back.

  “How do I look?” Peregrine asked, unlike her. The countess's nervousness showed in the tilt of her eyebrows as she looked up at Lish, hoping for reassurance.

  “Beautiful.” Lish told her. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  Peregrine straightened her shoulders, and the moment of youthful uncertainty hid behind a polite facade. “Then it’s time.”

  Lish followed Peregrine out into the common area, where they were met with a most unwelcome sight.

  “Finally,” Crown Prince Deryl pulled at the cuff of his coat. He was standing beside his attendant, who looked exhausted. “You almost made us late.”

  “Are you…” Peregrine’s words caught and then she quickly curtsied. “Good morning, Your Highness. Are you not attending the Continental Council?”

  The prince sneered, “And sit around listening to a bunch of non elves talk about themselves? Most certainly not.”

  “Then–”

  “We are meeting with that Commander of yours to sign the paperwork.” The prince lifted a hand and his attendant placed a rolled up scroll onto Deryl’s palm. “Now stop wasting my time and lead me to wherever it is you’re meeting.”

  Lish watched her mistress’s shoulders slump back low, and wondered who she would like to hit with a broom more– the crown prince, or the knight commander.

  Please, she prayed to any god that would listen, give her mistress strength.