The restaurant was smaller than Shaya expected, barely a hole in the wall of the mountain. Its windowless interior was lit by candelabras, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the cold stone and prim white table clothes covering the unoccupied tables. Shaya’s nose wrinkled as the potent, pungent smells of unknown spices wafted to her, drowning out the scent of roasting meat and wood fire she would have preferred.

A server in a crisp, simple monochrome uniform led her towards a back room; towards the incessant, methodical tinkling of metal against glass.

A willowy woman in an immaculate white and gold dress sat at an intimate table for two, stirring a cup of tea with one hand while reading a pocket-sized book in the other. Shaya recognized the long, metallic gold hair that made her own golden blonde look like straw, but time had tamed the princess’ hair into a tight braid while her own had remained wild. The youthful uncertainty, fear, and even wonder were gone from the woman’s posture; she sat upright with a regal bearing and crossed one leg over the other.

Eyes of molten platinum scanned the words with supernatural alacrity, one slender thumb flipping the pages to keep up with the woman’s insatiable appetite for the knowledge. Those unrecognizable and inscrutable eyes rose to meet Shaya’s own.

This was not the same princess Shaya had rescued years ago: she had grown into someone else entirely. A chill ran through Shaya at the sight of her, realizing that she was truly ensnared in webs of intrigue she had no interest in. She forced her mind into overdrive and hoped she could overcome her exhaustion.

Her host’s features shifted from bored curiosity into polite delight, and Princess Theame set her book aside and rose from her seat. “It’s good to see you again, my Serra,” she said with a smile, voice rich and silky, “please, take a seat, Shaya.”

Calculating, platinum eyes watched her with interest.

I should’ve stayed a backwater bumpkin... Shaya thought, feeling sweat bead her forehead and hoping it wasn’t noticeable.

“Your Royal Highness,” Shaya said, taking a knee before her host and bowing her head, “it is an honour to see you again, Princess Theame. Thank you for extending this invitation.”

“Please rise and drop the formalities,” the princess sighed with disappointment, “I had hoped that you, at least, would simply treat me as a person.”

“Treating nobles like people has not gone well for me so far, Princess,” Shaya said, rising and taking a seat when Theame gestured for her to do so.

“This is fair, I suppose,” amusement touched the princess’ lips, “I hear you have become ‘good friends’ with my cousin, Azreon.”

“Princess-”

“Theame.”

“Theame,” Shaya sighed, “with all due respect for your bloodline, Azreon is a monster and a tyrant. If he’s not adopted, his very being gives me serious concerns about your lineage.”

“You would dare-” Theame cut off the deep growl from the door with a raised hand. Shaya recognized the voice from years ago: the bodyguard that wasn’t with the princess when she had run off. The invisible bodyguard that no doubt still resented Shaya for being the one to save her from danger.

“That’s the Shaya I hoped to see again,” Theame smiled, ignoring her bodyguard’s interruption entirely, “but fear not, my own family does not have the same glaring weaknesses and even his father is far removed from the Celestial Throne’s inheritance. Despite the siblings I lost during the last war, enough of us remain to ensure a true Astorian sits on the throne... well, indefinitely, given that we’re pure-blooded nephilim.”

“That’s great, but Azreon is working pretty hard to destroy me – and that power is certainly within his grasp, given what I’ve seen him and his minions get away with thus far.”

“I’m aware, my friend.”

Theame took a sip of tea while servers brought in plates of food. A bowl of thin soup and a salad was placed before the princess first, then a larger platter was set before Shaya. A large bowl of thick, hearty stew steamed at her left elbow while the giant-sized platter was filled with enough beef ribs and roasted vegetables to feed a squad of kitahm.

Shaya cocked an eyebrow at the princess.

“I heard you were in the middle of recovering from severe injuries.” Theame draped a napkin across her lap. “We wouldn’t want you at a disadvantage during your duel with my dear cousin this weekend.”

Shaya mirrored Theame’s meal etiquette, memorizing the correct order of operations and precise movements for future meetings. She hoped it would never come up again, but she knew the gods would never grant that wish. Before she could dig into her meal, the servers re-entered the private room to set down crystal chalices and showed two bottles to Theame.

“Would you prefer the red or the white?”

“Neither, drinking is what got me into this mess.”

“The gossip I’ve heard suggests that evening didn’t end too poorly for you.” Theame smiled, seeing through Shaya’s attempts to hide her surprise. “We’ll have the red please, it suits our meal better.”

“You’ve changed,” Shaya said, leaning back to let the server fill up her chalice with the undesired liquid. Her stomach growled, wanting her to tear into the meat before her with abandon.

“For the better, I hope?” Theame cocked her head to the side, amusement shining in her cold, metallic eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The server flinched at Shaya’s honesty, spilling some of the wine. Before the red liquid could run far down the side of her chalice, the man whipped out a napkin and wiped it off with a melodic apology.

Theame’s giggle broke the growing tension in the room, but Shaya heard a sword click back into its scabbard despite the princess’ attempts to conceal her bodyguard’s ire. Shaya shot a glance over Theame’s shoulder and felt her eyes lock onto the invisible bodyguard’s. While his movements didn’t betray any blur of his invisibility, the small room meant there was really only one place where he could stand out of the way of the servers while still defending Theame and readily killing Shaya.

Noticing this exchange, Theame laughed.

It seemed genuine.

But Shaya really had no idea of anything anymore.

“I’m glad you haven’t changed too much, Shaya,” Theame dabbed tears from her eyes as she brought her laughter back under control, “I think I knighted the right woman.”

“That laugh was genuine, wasn’t it?” Shaya asked.

“It was,” Theame nodded, “apologies if it was a poor one, I am rather inexperienced with being earnest these days.”

“Well, let’s give you some practice,” Shaya narrowed her eyes at the woman across from her, “how about you tell me why I’m here while I inhale this stew?”

“Fair.” Theame nodded, gently blowing on a spoonful of her soup and sipping it before continuing. “Firstly, I wanted to thank you for saving me that night.”

Shaya swallowed a mouthful of tender meat, vegetables and gravy. “You already did, years ago.”

“No, I thanked you for saving me from thugs years ago,” Theame said, raising a slender porcelain finger for emphasis, “today I am thanking you for saving me from my ignorance. That rash evening and your blunt words shattered many of the lies I was fed in my youth, lies that made me ignorant of the reality of our empire. Of how much needs to change amongst the nobility, so that we can better serve our people rather than the legacies of our progenitors.”

“A shame your cousin didn’t have the same experience then.”

“Indeed,” Theame acknowledged with a nod, “you’ve rightly discovered the primary reason you’re here.

“My cousin is part of the problem of which I speak: a zealous dedication to our worship as gods, a focus on stature and status that loses sight of our responsibilities – and of reality. Despite the divine blood flowing through our veins, we are not invincible and we cannot stand alone; the power we accrue over our immortal existence can be leveraged for more than just reinforcing sycophancy and oppressing progress which could make us stronger, like thaumaturgy and blackpowder weapons.”

“My Lady, please do not speak this way,” the bodyguard said, voice full of concern for his charge, “it could be construed as heresy.”

Even without reading his body language, Shaya was certain that his concern for Theame was more than merely professional. Given what Theame had become, Shaya was also certain that the princess knew too.

“The inquisition has heard me say worse, Izual.” Theame waved dismissively. “And they’re part of the problem, especially since their change in leadership.”

Shaya stiffened. “Theame, I can’t be part of this discussion. I want no part of anything regarding them.”

“Listen to her, Theame,” Izual whispered, “she speaks sense for once.”

The princess waved dismissively again, “I’m not looking to shake the Empire to its foundations, so don’t look at me like I’m crazy. I have a healthy respect for the inquisition, even if I don’t agree with their motivations.”

“Theame,” Shaya said, setting down her silver cutlery to frown across the table at her dining companion, “I don’t think you understand the risk you’re exposing me to, I can easily be removed by any of the players you’ve discussed so far. What do you want from me? Why am I here?”

“I want you to humiliate Azreon during your duel with him,” she explained, “his ego is proving problematic to our reputation, as you pointed out, and it needs to be taken down a notch. He’s always strutted about like he was some chosen hero out of a prophecy and he needs to be awoken to reality. Set on the right path, as you also suggested earlier.

“So, you see,” she sipped her wine, “we’re natural allies here, aren’t we?”