As Solae started to try to take a few more steps closer to where the barge was bobbing in the water, floating but tethered in place, she realized that Damaris was firmly anchored in the sand by fear. The pressure of the young girl's grip was not sufficient to bruise but was painfully tight. Though it might be easier to simply drag their young charge to their makeshift vessel to save time, and wait until they were sailing to reassure her, it would also be cruel. Inwardly the diplomat sighed.

Truthfully she couldn't blame the adolescent for her apprehension. Not only had she been traumatized when she was ripped from her home town, violently carried by the water to the island, and deposited on an abandoned caldera half-alive, despite Rene's best efforts their transport was not inspiring confidence. She had no doubt it would survive their journey to San Roayo and that her paramour had done the best he could with the resources available. What she recognized, however, was that for someone as terrified as Damaris nothing short of a huge ship that appeared unsinkable would assuage her. This was no luxury yacht where the owners and occupants could hide below deck and try to avoid the ocean. It was not a military carrier that was so massive one could explore the levels for days without confronting the sight of the sea. All three of them would be exposed to the elements no matter how short the trip and they could not trick themselves into believing they were still on land.

"Damaris," Solae started as she knelt down. "Do you know why I have hair this color?" she asked gently with a soft smile. Her question was so unexpected that the youth blinked several times, distracted momentarily by the query, and almost forgot the dark mass of water that was so close by.

"Your hair?" Damaris replied with her eyebrows knitted in confusion. For a second the girl glanced to Rene who just shrugged affably rather than offer a clue as to either the answer or Solae's aim in asking something so bizarre.

"My parents, and some of my parents' parents, and my parents' parent's parents, used science to make changes to babies before they were born," she explained. It was a gross oversimplification but it was easy to appreciate that details weren't needed to make the point she was about to make. Trying to delve into the technology that was used in genetic modification would be tedious, lengthy, and challenging even for adults. "One of those changes was to make my hair this color. That's why some princesses look a little different. What about our knight, Sir Rene? What do you think they changed about him?"

Damaris was so absorbed in this new line of thought that she turned and stared at Rene for a moment, oblivious to the ocean she had planted herself to avoid proximity to. Solae gave her a few seconds to scrutinize Rene, who seemed somewhat uneasy under the intense stare, before she gave her fiance a subtle wink. "They made him tall?" Damaris suggested. Common men and women were not necessarily short, but nobility had generations ago began assuring their male progeny were typically taller than their counterparts. The average aristocrat towered above their lesser peers given the gap in nutrition and selective DNA editing, though some planets had more comparable heights among their populace.

"Well, I think they did," she whispered as she leaned in, "but they also made him strong. I know it's hard to trust someone you don't know, but because Sir Rene is so strong I know that if anything happens to me on our way to San Roayo he will be able to rescue me better than anyone else. And I know he'll be able to rescue you better than anyone else too. We wouldn't be taking you home like this unless it was the only way. We have to believe in Sir Rene, though, even if it's difficult." Solae paused a minute to let her words sink in and then stood, tugging on the little hand clasped in hers. "You ready to try to get on? If we go now we'll have a chance to sit there for a moment before we have to leave."

Damaris eyed the barge warily as she struggled mentally with pushing past her fears. Sensing her trepidation, but also the smallest hint of courage blossoming beneath the surface, the marquise turned to her soldier and made a motion. "Do you think you could carry her the last few steps?" she asked quietly. The pair might not be the best of friends given their rocky start, but she couldn't imagine that it would hurt to have some physical assistance, especially since she knew from experience that this sort of situation could make someone who was scared feel like their legs were jelly.