The dark green chiffon dress Fiama wore was new and irritated her in the most uncomfortable and difficult to reach spots upon her body. Standing on the dais in the throne room, she knew hundreds of eyes were upon her, so any attempt to move to itch would draw immediate attention to her and undoubtedly a public shaming from her mother. She weighed the options and decided suffering in discomfort for the next hour would be far more beneficial.

Anyone who could afford to do so attended the welcoming ceremony held to honor the arrival of the Ithoyan Emissary. Those with the intelligence to know better knew that Morakar was in desperate need of the alliance with their closest kingdom and anything that could better improve trade and their economy meant the potential for more gold to line their pockets. With those thoughts in mind, minor lords and ladies dressed in their finest and crowded between the walls of the throne room while they waited for the announcement that the Emissary had arrived.

Little did they know the carriage carrying the Emissary's daughter arrived the night before not to the castle, but to one of the nearby inns. Fiama noticed it as she made her return trip from Jeraf's cabin just as the morning sun began to peek over the hills in the distance. It wasn't unheard of for an Emissary to choose their own lodgings, but her parents were adamant about the Emissary staying within the castle as their personal guest. Whether Brokand informed his daughter of those plans and Ziedas then chose to ignore them or it was intended to be a slight towards Morakar, Fiama knew not but was impressed with the spite all the same.

The sound of the fanfare announcing the Emissary's arrival immediately sent a hush throughout the throne room. Fiama, however, felt the uncomfortable itch intensify as it moved to her stomach, lower... the anxiety of seeing Ziedas again tightened her chest and made her palms sweat. Her parents would, no doubt, find some reason to blame Fiama for the insult— they needn't know it very well could be her fault.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye to see her father sitting in his throne— lounging was more like it— looking bored and bothered. His mother sat on his right, barely on the edge of a smaller and far less elaborate seat, wringing her hands in her lap as if the Emissary's arrival was the beginning and the end of Morakar.

Maybe it was.

The three of them dressed in the black and green of their kingdom, matching the draperies and tapestries of the otherwise barren throne room. The large firepit in the middle of the room hadn't even been lit, leaving the room chilled despite the numerous bodies within it, and Fiama wondered who would lose a hand for that misstep.

The crowd shifted, arching their necks and angling their bodies as they looked back towards the throne room's main entrance, vying to be one of the first to see the Emissary before their announcement. Fiama gritted her teeth as her attention remaining solely on those still-closed wooded doors. Perhaps Ziedas was truly sent to be a decoy on her father's behalf, and the Emissary had arrived overnight, and thus why the carriage remained at the inn...

Or not.

The doors opened and Fiama held her breath.

The royal herald appeared in the middle of the archway and the room fell silent.

"Announcing the arrival of—"

Fiama whispered a silent prayer.

"— Ziedas of Ithoya, daughter of Emissary Brokand."

She cursed the gods above.

Even her father sat straighter in the throne, his hands gripping the armrest as their otherwise unexpected guest arrived. The silence in the room was broken by the harsh whispers among the guests who expected to see an older male instead of...

That.

The blonde beauty dressed in red velvet that clung to her curves exactly as they needed to. The scoop neck of the dress teased at the suppleness that lay beneath, and the swivel of her hips as she made her way down the center aisle told Fiama Ziedas was a woman who knew well what she possessed and was not afraid to use it to her advantage.

The shadow in the blue eyes of the Emissary's daughter, however, was anything but kind or well-intended. Even over the crows, Fiama could hear the click of her heels as she steadily proceeded forward, eyes intent on maintaining the attention of the King of Morakar as though mentally preparing him for the onslaught she was about to bring at his feet.

"What is the meaning of this?" the King sputtered as Ziedas paused at the bottom of the dais.

So much for tact and diplomacy.

"King Ronan, Queen Laira," Ziedas said by way of greeting, nodding respectively to each despite the tension Fiama could see in her jaw. "I am here on behalf of my father, Lord Brokand, to assess the strength and prosperity in the potential of an alliance between Ithoya and Morakar."

"There's already an alliance between us," the king snapped. "If your father were here rather than sending a child to do his job for him, he would have more than enough knowledge of that agreement."

"There was," Ziedas corrected, her eyes flickering. "Until our carriage was attacked during our journey to your kingdom. And now we are concerned for the safety of our people should we agree to continue to trade between our lands."

Fiama felt her throat go dry and wouldn't even have been able to speak if she wanted to. She kept her attention on Ziedas, hoping the Emissary's daughter wouldn't mention what else happened the night before, praying she wouldn't recognize her beneath the chiffon and the makeup and the perfume.

But her father refused to let any chance of insult go unnoticed.

"Brigands roam the roads all the time," he said too nonchalantly with a flip of his ring-ladened hand. "Perhaps your carriage should have been better equipped to endure the journey."

"Perhaps," she hissed, "your guards would do better actually patrolling your roads instead of losing their gold rolling dice all night while drinking themselves drunk in the Wild Rose."

"That is a harsh accusation for the daughter of an Emissary too coward to visit himself."

"It's the truth because I was the one who took their gold."

A murmur ran over the room, and a small smile teased the corner of Fiama's lips. That explained why the carriage was there...

"I don't find this situation amusing, Princess."

Ziedas' icy stare was solely on her, as was the attention of the remainder of the throne room.

"Not amusing at all," Fiama said, quickly recovering. "At least, not for the guards."

An uneasy chuckle rumbled through the room, but Ziedas peered at her suspiciously. Fiama instantly regretted saying anything. Behind the scarf, she knew her voice was muffled and she purposely lowered its tenor to maintain her anonymity, but was it too much or not enough?

"Whatever you think may have occurred," the King cut in, and for once Fiama was thankful for her father, "I assure you the roads between Morakar and Ithoya are safe, as is the city and markets for your merchants and vendors."

"That, your Highness, is exactly why I am here."

"And that is why we will have our daughter, Princess Fiama, be your personal escort during your stay within our kingdom. She will be more than pleased to show you how beneficial remaining our trade partner will be."

"The pleasure is mine," Fiama asserted with a slight nod of her head, keeping her eyes anywhere from Ziedas.

"I don't need an escort," Ziedas snapped. "I need answers. I need information. I need to know why visitors are being attacked and the only one willing to save them is a vigilante jumping from trees."

"What's this now?" the queen spoke up. A sharp glance from the king had her returning her attention to her nervously clenched hands.

Ziedas scoffed, but Fiama was uncertain if it was at the inquiry or the treatment of the ruling female of Morakar. Little did she know it was Queen Laira who held the heavier hand when the doors were closed and the masks were finally removed.

Fiama, however, felt her heart stop and her breath catch in her throat.

"We do not allow vigilantism in Morakar," the king sneered.

"Perhaps you should start," Ziedas countered. "This one, in particular, dispatched four guards all on their own without enduring a scratch with the skill and finesse of the night air itself."

The way Ziedas retold the events almost sounded theatrical... except for the part where she failed to mention one of those deaths was hers.

"Well, the next time you see this vigilante, you would do well to apprehend them and deliver them directly to Morakar for their crimes. We have no tolerance to those who believe they're above the law, let alone think they have the right to take the law into their own hands. Morakar does not need such assistance, and you'll more than discover that on your own while you experience the kingdom yourself."

"I'm sure I will." Ziedas smirked.

"And now that that's settled, despite this setback we'll continue as planned." The king stood from his throne and turned his attention to the gathered crowd. "To exemplify the hospitality of Morakar, we will host the Emissary— or his daughter— for a week, to culminate with a celebration of our union and well-wishes before she returns home with our great tidings. We expect each and every one of you to open your homes and your hears to our allies and welcome Ithoya in like one of our own."

A subtle applause rolled through the room. Ziedas offered the king and queen a small bow before departing, giving Fiama merely a glance before she exited the room. The crowd dispersed and followed, the discussions of the day's events beginning to run rampant and generate rumors that would circulate before the day was over.

Her parents remained in hushed conversation and Fiama wanted to be as far away from them as possible before any questions could be asked or accusations made in her direction.

She only got a step down from the dais before a finely-manicured hand gripped her arm, its nails digging deep into her skin. Fiama hissed as she turned to face her mother, whose Amber stare was alight with a burning rage.

"Do not ruin this for us," she hissed. "As if your life depended on it."