Syrenrei

For the Lady! (Syrenrei x Foolish Errant)

Leanja didn't so much as flinch as the knight reached towards her. Whether this was courage bourne of her youth or simply a reflection of bravery being a core component of her personality the end result was the same. She waited patiently for him to respond to her questions or, at the very least, explain why he was here and in such a state. What she had failed to anticipate was that he would claim she was not some ambiguous lady and then inquire as to whether she had seen the lady referenced. The princess hesitated. It was possible that the man beneath the armor had gone mad from whatever combat he had last been engaged in. More than once her mother had been forced to dismiss a soldier from her surface when melee had culminated in an illness of the mind.

"I don't know how I would recognize her," she answered truthfully after some thought. "I don't know you or where you came from so I am not certain how I would know your lady." More curious than the expertly made armor was that she saw no emblem, sash, or inscription that identified from where the stranger hailed. Had he been a knight of Itraniel there would have been an emblazoned crest somewhere on the plate mail. There was no reasonable way she might deduce the poor creature's lady without any insight into from which lands he hailed.

It was also strange that the errant knight thought even for a second that she could be the mysterious women for whom he was waiting. There were eyes beneath the helmet albeit bloodshot. Either he was confused, his vision was hindered by visual strain, he was afflicted by a malady mundane or magical in nature, or he had never met his lady. The latter was almost preposterous to consider but was no more absurd than the enigmatic spectacle in front of her at present. Leanja sighed and shook her head.

"Don't you think it would injure your lady's heart to see you like this?" she asked carefully and in a soft tone. Leanja was not trying to chastise him but rather make him consider the perspective she might have were it her and her sworn faithful. "If she's a noble lady she would want to see you standing tall and proud, to see your strength, to see your resolve, and to see you healthy. Would you not be sad if you found your lady and she was sitting beside a tree like you are? Please, let me help you. Think of what your lady would want for you."

Leanja wasn't certain that her appeal would be effective; the lady she alluded to was even more foreign to her than the knight she was conversing with. What she wanted, however, was to be of some assistance. It was not in her nature to just walk away from someone to which she could render aid. Tali was still pacing at the edge of her vision. The handmaiden was perplexed on what she should do- she was terrified of the warrior, but also scared for her charge, disallowed from growing closer, but also given the responsibility of keeping the girl safe. Were there to be an even hint of hostility she suspected that Tali would come charging in and destroy any rapport that might be established in this fledgling discussion.

The Betrothed

Rhiane flushed slightly at the mention of turning her 'old room' into an art studio. While she had not been bothered by the move into Luke's quarters she had perhaps foolishly anticipated that at his first opportunity he would find a way to eject her. It had seemed pretty clear to her that he would continue to entertain other women in secret and valued his privacy even when he was alone. Admittedly in retrospect it seemed unlikely that having separate bedrooms would be tolerated by Queen Camilla. The engagement was only as valuable as the illusion of a perfect love story it conjured. Sleeping together and then apart would raise eyebrows no matter how discreet they were and would give rise to rumors among all that there was a weakness in their relationship that could be exploited. The princess elect was still adjusting to the permanence of their arrangement.

"Oh that... that won't be necessary. I have too many responsibilities," she said hurriedly. "Besides, you can't possibly mean you'd allow me to try to draw you..."

"I should let you go," Sebastian said, more than a touch uncomfortable at the innuendo the pair were making so casually with him still connected to them through the phone. He'd be lying if he said he thought Rhiane ought to have entered the contest in the first place but meant what he had told her earlier: he supported her with unconditional love. Though he endeavored not to judge them for their choices he was still entitled to feel like an awkward third wheel when they acted a bit too familiar.

"Thank you Sebs. I love you," Rhiane said buoyantly as she pulled a plate of tiramisu closer to her. The kitchens had prepared it with decaffeinated coffee, something that they opposed on principle, but they knew better to question the judgment of the medical staff that had saved the newest royal's life. It had been determined that they didn't want to introduce strong stimulant, such as caffeine, into the princess elect's diet that evening given the heavy doses of multiple medications she had already been prescribed.

"I love you too. I'll try to talk some sense into your impossibly stubborn brother before we talk again, okay?" he promised before severing the connection and leaving the regal couple alone to enjoy their dinner.

"Who knew there was an upside to getting poisoned and throwing up everything in sight?" Rhiane asked gleefully as she sank her spoon into the thick layer of cream. As the former farmer pushed into the layer of ladyfingers the cookies, softened from soaking in coffee and then being sandwiched between thick ribbons of mascapone, her silverware cut through it easily. She sighed in contentment. For a moment she could forget the machines she was still connected to by wires and stickers, the IV puncturing her hand, and the sterile surroundings.

"Do you want any?" she inquired as she took her first bite. The cocoa and custard was absolutely divine. Rhiane would have enjoyed this special treat even if she had been full from a prior meal, but on an empty stomach it one of the best things she could remember having eaten if not the absolute best. She had been conscientious about complaining but her hunger was excruciating. Until now there had been more pressing concerns than her daily caloric intake. Now she wanted to graduate from medically stable to physically comfortable. The princess elect closed her eyes as she savored the luxurious taste before reluctantly swallowing. It was smooth enough even the illustrious Elena Villani would have been pleased it wasn't damaging to her throat.

"I thought I'd put on one of the movies you like while we eat," she continued as she started to dig in for another bite. "Tobias and I watched a few earlier today but I don't think he's any more of a film aficionado than I am." Which was to say not at all. The bodyguard hadn't given any insight about his preferences or his hobbies but she had a hard time imagining the prince's cousin spending a lot of time at the theatre. In the hours they had spent together Rhiane had gotten the distinct impression Tobias was consumed with his work.

"Any recommendations?"

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Wait, before you get started," Solae said as she set down her cup of coffee. The aristocracy would consider it scandalous how quickly she had acclimated to the food and rations of the lower classes. Most, if not all, would have excused it as a necessary adaptation for her continued survival, but would have still been appalled at her acceptance. The marquise did not criticize, did not wrinkle her nose, did not go through the motions to express her disappointment in the quality of the provisions. Not only did Solae think that it was be pointless grandstanding she didn't think that the meals of the last few days had been that bad. The more time they spent on the run the more understanding she had for her societal lessors and the more convinced she was that there was much the nobility could learn and appreciate from the common, hard-working folk of the worlds.

She left the kitchen for a moment and went to the hold where she retrieved two items from a compartment in which they had stored smaller electronics and supplies. When she returned to the galley she had two devices in her hand that were approximately the size of a pack of playing cards but slightly more slender. There had initially been five of these devices but two were damaged and corroded and they had no need of a third so she had brought the two in the best condition. Both were smooth and the color of aged copper. Six small buttons encircled a large black oval at the center that had pinpoint holes and functioned as a speaker.

Solae pressed one into Rene's hand and kept its twin in her own. "I found these cleaning. Best I can tell it's one of the ways the former crew kept in contact when they landed and were temporarily separated. Fortunately for us because they were criminals the technology is old enough that neither the empire nor the rebels will be looking for it. Even if they were it's encrypted. Drawback is that it's audio only and the maximum range around 150 kilometers." It made her realize just how similar they were right now to actual criminals. Hiding from authority figures, staying in a home that wasn't theirs, grand larceny, subterfuge, and that wasn't even delving into the violence they had used even if in self-defense.

"I know you're only going to the beach outside the caldera but... I'll feel better if we have a way to contact each other," she explained, "and this is durable enough that even if another storm swells we'll have a way to reach each other for a while at least. I'll let you know when Damaris wakes up and you can send me updates on how you're doing or if you see any ships out there doing rescues that we need to hide from," she suggested. "Probably unnecessary but it doesn't hurt to be cautious, right?"

"I do not detect any strong winds that would indicate another such occurrence," Mia purred in interruption.

"Thank you, Mia, but I want to be prepared just in case. We just got engaged, didn't we?" Solae asked with a light tone. "I'd be quite a terrible fiancee to let Sir Rene out of my sight so easily. It's practically my duty to keep tabs on him now," she joked. That and also she was slightly anxious about any minor separation still. They had been through so much together, side by side, that she had started to conjoin survival with his presence.

"Is there anything I can do to help from the inside while you work on the exterior of the ship? I could... cook, not that I really know how, but you'll probably need a break between your two projects. Or Mia and I could work on detangling the components you need from the internal interface," she proposed.

The Betrothed

Sebastian had offered his knowledge and now it was up to Prince Luke to decide what he wanted to do with the information provided. The heir to the throne was free to believe, to disbelieve, to act upon it immediately, to disregard it, to keep it to himself, to share freely with others, or a multitude of other options. Perhaps he ought to have worked harder to persuade the other man but he was silent as distrust laced the other man's words. He suspected, however, that arguing and pushing would not net him a positive result. There was little that he could say or do to make a royal suddenly have faith in his confidence. Sebastian's conscience was clean and his lingering guilt erased just by summoning the courage to give voice to the coveted intelligence he held.

Unlike Hubert and Gerald Black he was not opposed to helping the prince. He was not, however, moved any more by the promise of monetary award and title as he had been amnesty. What Luke failed to grasp was that these things meant very little to the farmer. His fidelity could only be won by principal and ties to those whom he loved dearly; it was this way in which he was most similar to the princess elect that he viewed as a sister. If Rhiane herself had made an emotionally-charged plea for his cooperation he might have conceded because of their relationship alone. The elite made trades and transactions but Sebastian, and many others of his station, were moved by less tangible compensation.

To Sebastian the greatest tragedy was that while Rhiane might achieve some personal goals, he didn't believe that either the queen nor her son would meet theirs. Luke's words believed a confidence that he might be able too wage war on his adversary (the rebellion), eradicate them from New Rome, and triumph in a more stable future. Sebastian saw the revolution and growing calls for a violent coup as a symptom rather than the problem itself. Even if they imprisoned and murdered every treasonous rebel more would rise in their wake. There needed to be a fundamental change in society, starting with the monarchy itself, before commoners would stop calling for war against their real or perceived oppressors. Routing them out, assassinating them, or hosting public trials was unlikely to have the outcome desired. He was no politician but he knew how adeptly Rhiane could be a voice to the 'infidels' and that she had not yet, nor made attempts, made him suspect she was withholding for reasons known only to her.

"Of course," Elena nodded before rising from her chair. She patted Rhiane's leg where it was covered with one of the medical tower's thick blankets. They had utilized a slightly weighted blanket to help soothe their princess elect and improve circulation since she was confined to the bed at least for the evening. "Think about it. You can do it now, later, or never- the choice is up to you," she said with a reassuring smile towards her patient.

"Ah, and I've received a message your dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes," she added with a wink as she walked out the door. Rhiane wouldn't admit it aloud but the toxin specialist was growing on her rapidly- if only because she was assisting in this indulgence to sample every decadent dessert that didn't have one of the ingredients she was temporarily forbidden from having.

"Seb?" she asked with obvious excitement. "I thought Gerald, that ass, wouldn't have let him call me! Can you put him on speaker?" Rhiane asked excitedly as she sat up with obvious joy in her features. A minute ago she was despondent that no one would call, visit, or inquire after her condition; no one except those obligated by their profession. She was delighted to know now that she was wrong.

"Seb! I thought you would be busy planning an extravagant wedding," she teased once Luke had acquiesced by placing the call on speaker phone. "And before you tell me any secrets, I asked Luke to put you on speaker. They are insisting I keep this IV on me until I eat," she admitted with an exasperated sigh that expressed her sentiments on the matter.

"How are you feeling?" Sebastian inquired gently as he dodged the question entirely. "Are you listening to your doctors?"

"I thought you'd be forbidden from calling," Rhiane said as she picked at the edge of her comforter and tried to pretend she hadn't heard his questions. She knew better, however, than to expect him to drop the issue. Even if he hadn't built a rapport in his brief discussion with Luke she also knew that her fiance was more likely to be an accomplice to her facing the situation than evading it. "I'm feeling better but not great," she confessed with reluctance. "Sebs, you know how I feel about doctors..."

"Rhi," Sebastian started to reply. His voice was firm but also warm; it genuinely sounded like he was her eldest sibling. Gerald was six years older than his sister and Sebastian was a year and a half older than Gerald, which made him Rhiane's senior by almost eight years. This made her listen to him better than most especially since she knew his heart was in the right place. "I love you, Rhi, unconditionally. You make decisions I disagree with, and I make decisions you disagree with, but we are family even if Gerald and I aren't married. Nothing you can do will ever make me stop supporting and loving you, though we might get angry with one another, or disappointed, or worried. Hubert and Gerald are... well, they are idiots when it comes to things like this, so they know to stay out of my way," he jested lightly.

"I want you to listen to your doctors and Prince Alessondro in matters concerning your health," he continued sternly.

"But..." she started to protest.

"Rhiane Violet Black, I won't listen to any excuses," he said sternly but gently. "I understand how you feel but the best way to honor the dead is to remember what they wanted for us and what they stood for. Your mother and Edwin wanted better for you and that includes your health. I'm sure if you needed someone to speak to about your fears and flashbacks that Prince Alessondro would rather arrange for you to privately see a counselor than continue to put yourself at risk."

The princess elect was properly chastised. She lightly bit her lower lip and sighed in defeat. No one was more effective at making her change course than the docile farmhand that had come into her life when they were struggling the worst. Had she believed in reincarnation and were Sebastian many years younger she might have thought he had had the same spirit as the two individuals he had just referenced. Before their deaths on her mother and Edwin had been able to pierce her stubborn streak with maximum efficiency. "I understand."

"Promise me you'll actually rest instead of conspire to escape," Sebastian said more lightly. "Maybe you could practice your art like you used to do. Have you told Prince Alessondro..."

"I promise," Rhiane said quickly. "I'm much too busy for hobbies, Sebs," she added hastily in an extremely obvious attempt to divert the topic.

The Betrothed

Sebastian knew he had taken a risk in returning the phone call that the palace medical staff had made to the family home. Both Hubert, Rhiane's father, and Gerald, Rhiane's brother, had warned him that there was little reason to trust the crown. While Rhiane herself was under the protection of the royal family, she was ultimately powerless to do anything more than provide a stipend for her destitute relatives. Neither man had any illusions that were they to confide their connections and associations with the rebellion that they would be squashed underfoot without a single thought. Furthermore, they possessed not a shred of faith in the crown prince that had constantly made headlines about his dalliances with other women. In their minds Rhiane was entering into a marriage with an apathetic playboy, entering the elite world that had shrugged its shoulders at their personal tragedy, and would ruthlessly destroy everything they cared for given a good enough reason. Just yesterday they had been arguing over whether or not there was a legal way to refuse the 'blood money' they were expecting to receive after the wedding.

"I love Rhi," he said quietly. Stereotypes were that males of his orientation had effeminate voices but his was full and deep. It was not difficult to imagine him singing the bass line in a chorus given the opportunity. "Gerald and I might not be married but to me she is still my beloved sister," he continued, "and if I had to go to prison to help keep her safe I would do it every time. I don't think I could live with myself otherwise."

Sebastian paused for a moment. He had been careful to avoid either talking too casually or too formally. Technically they might someday be related by marriage which made this all the more awkward to navigate socially. Being overtly casual might impart a lack of respect or even disdain for the government and arrangement that he represented. Conversely being too formal would create a cool distance that suggested a lack of honesty on his part.

"No source of information is perfect but I can tell you this is credible enough that I was willing to face the consequences calling you. If I must be honest I'm neither a loyalist nor a revolutionary; I just want to help on the farm, live a peaceful life with Gerald, and keep the people I love happy. Rhi isn't wrong there are quite a number of rebellion sympathizers in town and nearby. Some actively participate, some just agree with their ideology but aren't motivated to do anything but nod, but none of them want harm to come to Rhi. They grew up with her and she truly doesn't have enemies here." He was being completely forthright with Luke. Rhiane's hometown was perhaps the only place where there was no member of the coup that considered New Rome's future commoner queen to be a prime candidate for becoming a martyr. Fierce loyalty to her as a person overrode the political gains they might have with her death.

Sebastian had to keep how he knew what he did a secret for the time being. This was both because he didn't want to involve himself in the cultural war that was being waged and because he wanted to preserve his source. The less that Luke knew, the less that he jeopardized future insights, and the less chance he would be blamed if anyone was arrested on his account. For now he wished only to be an informant that intervened when it was necessary. If no one else would think of Rhiane he would.

At the offer to speak to Rhiane he paused and there was a drawn out silence. Sebastian doubted that she was truly as safe with Luke as he professed, or that he didn't have to worry, but that was because he knew there were more dangers to his spiritual sister than the external. "Is she... has she recovered?" he asked tentatively. "I didn't think I could," he stumbled over his words haltingly, "I thought she'd be too ill to talk even if she was allowed."

The Betrothed

Rhiane was reluctant to let Luke go but she reminded herself not to be greedy. She was thankful for his compassion and companionship, even if it felt the meeting of their hearts and minds was brief and fleeting at best, because it was bolstering. The princess elect found him surprisingly safe and dependable. Though they might not have chosen each other, and neither of them wanted a romantic relationship, to know that he could occasionally be a refuge was reassuring. One of her father's parting shots was that she would be in a pit of snakes in the palace and that the crown prince was the most venomous viper. It was a belief that was shared by Gerald. Rhiane had hoped that their shared circumstances would make the engaged couple allies rather than adversaries. A day or two ago she had to face the possibility that her surviving family members had been correct. Now she couldn't help but wonder if they had misjudged.

"Ms. Black," Elena said delicately as she sat down. There was a slight tug downwards at the corners of the future royal's mouth though she did not frown. Dr. Villani knew how much her profession was distrusted by the former farmer and was not insulted; if anything she it progress that Rhiane was not detaching or ignoring her. She reached forward and gently took the other woman's hand in her own.

"I was not lying when I said that another person wouldn't have survived what you did- not just tonight, but eight years ago. I'm not in the pharmaceutical field, obviously, but if you ever wanted to I could connect you with someone in research and development. Specialists could study your immune system to see if there is anything we could glean from your physiology to help others," she suggested. She expected that Rhiane would immediately object but instead the buxom brunette was suspiciously quiet as she seriously considered the offer. With a playful smile the doctor leaned closer to her patient and whispered, "I can also promise a recommendation that's not at Evolab," she joked.

At this Rhiane laughed and shrugged her shoulders. As much as she had grown to loathe the medical profession she had to admit that Elena Villani had saved her life and perhaps redeemed doctors everywhere a touch in her mind. Had there not been a paycheck from doing so she might have thought the woman was a saint, but she knew there was a lucrative reward for the intervention, and so her perception remained skewed. The princess elect wondered if she might have earned the same attention were she still a peasant, or a secretary firmly entrenched in the middle class, or the maid of a lesser noble household. In her ideal world a woman like Elena would work a case regardless of the financial background of the victim.

"I'm sure you don't have much time," Sebastian began, "but I've heard that someone tried to kill Rhi and that they might not be alive by the time you find them." Though Luke and Rhiane were on a first name basis she had failed to disclose that the people closest to her actually called her by an even shorter nickname. It was uttered so quickly and chased with so much more pressing information that it might be missed by the heir to the throne but was still rather important. This singular syllable made it clear that Rhiane was still guarded, still aware that the people who loved and cherished her were not nearby, and not even Tobias had pierced through her self-defenses with his consideration and stoicism.

"I'm telling you this because I want her to be safe," he further explained perhaps unnecessarily, "and I don't know that if I told her directly she'd... react well." Sebastian, called 'Seb' by his friends, paused because he was not prepared to broach the topic of the various ways in which his partner's sibling could inappropriately process the information. Unlike Gerald he was not blind to Rhiane's unhealthy views on her own morbidity, nor oblivious how to sometimes she dismissed other's concerns about her, or how powerless she might be to advocate on her own behalf effectively. Hopefully Luke would read between the lines and surmise that the farmer wasn't speaking to him because he relished an opportunity to speak with their future king.

"The rebellion is divided on Rhi," he continued, "and some of them think that Rhi would best serve the revolution as a martyr. They know if she dies that no matter what the truth is everyone will blame the crown, especially you and Queen Camilla. If she's alive she's more of a wild card- she could encourage people to be loyal to you or she could tarnish her own image. If she was dead, though, her perfect reputation would remain intact, including being a the champion of the poor, and an innocent life lost that would enrage some of the citizens who are right now apathetic. I think the person today worked alone but... this isn't the end of it," Seb added more softly. The rebellion saw Rhiane as a precious pawn, perhaps even more than the royalty, and knew that she could turn the tide one way or another. "There aren't many who want Rhiane dead, and most of the rebellion is adamantly opposed and actively trying to stop them, but she's still in danger."

For the Lady! (Syrenrei x Foolish Errant)

The queen's presence had been required at Klagain and so she had set out with her carriage and an entourage for both practical necessity and protection. It was not uncommon for citizens to see the royal caravan either at a distance or in their town monthly. The ruler of the fledgling nation knew that she needed to have a strong presence to assure her people that she was involved, to apply her magical abilities to situations not easily solved by the mundane, and to see with her own eyes the troubles that befell her people. In this particular case it was yet another skirmish at the border that summoned her intervention. None of Itraniel's neighbors seemed to respect the boundaries of their kingdoms and would test the viability of an invasion through aggression. Klagain had been victim to the violence of a band of 'renegade' soldiers that were almost certainly endorsed by their king. While they had been slain in the conflict that did not guarantee a second more potent wave would not be forthcoming.

Leanja was not yet of age to attend the meetings. With a handmaiden that also functioned as a nanny for the young witch she had been allowed to explore in the hopes it kept her entertained. The girl had protested, because she wanted to help, but her powers had not manifested sufficiently that the queen was willing to jeopardize her daughter's safety. As a mother she also wanted to preserve some of her childish innocence. There would be enough responsibilities saddled on her shoulders when she was a teenager on the cusp of adulthood. For now she ought to be allowed to play and delight in simple pleasures.

"Sir, are you all right?" she called out to the plated figure from the road.

The handmaiden, a woman of twenty-six years named Tali, skipped up behind Leanja to see what she was looking at. Aghast at the scene, if for no other reason than the derelict knight was still armed with a rusty sword, she tried to hold back the princess. Leanja did not share her fears. Before she could be dissuaded she had bounded forward and swatted away several of the flies without so much as a wrinkle of the nose at the pervasive odor. Eternally curious, braver than she ought to be, and with a strong sense of duty, Tali should have anticipated she wouldn't have stayed away from the stranger.

"Princess Leanja, it's dangerous!" she called out.

The princess in question was a few months past her tenth birthday and had just had a growth spurt that made her grow a few inches. She wore dark trousers, boots, a linen blouse, and a wide leather belt, none of which had the earmarks of royalty except for how exceptionally well they were made. Long dark hair, a brown so deep it nearly appeared black, had been plaited from her temples while the rest hung loosely to her waist. Were it not for Tali announcing her status she might look more like a pretty merchant's daughter than that of the queen though that was partially on purpose: it was easier to keep an energetic child safe if she was not an obvious target.

"I'm fine, Tali," Leanja called back dismissively. "Can I get you something, sir?" she asked as she knelt down in the soft earth next to the giant of a man. Insects buzzed around her skin but curiously refused to land on the exposed flesh of her hands, neck, or face, as if there was a natural invisible deterrent. "Do you need some water?"

The Betrothed

Elena Villani understood that Queen Camilla was more concerned about the use of her future daughter-in-law than she cared about her as a person, but she believed that the monarch vastly underestimated just how closely she come to the precipice of disaster. Not just anyone could have survived the dose of poison that the princess elect had ingested unwittingly. Who would have perished from the toxins was not just limited to commoners either; she was quite certain that a not insignificant number of the upper echelons of nobility would have succumbed to it as well. Perhaps the ruler believed there was nothing to gain from dwelling on what might have been. The specialist believed, however, that might be too emboldened by her success and not properly aware of possible repercussions if they pushed the patient too quickly and too hard. What they had was an amazing resilient woman. If she she was pressed to her brink on the tour, simply for the sake of appearances, they might end up in the very scenario they had just escaped.

While she was relieved that the heir to the throne chose to stay with fiancee, if only because then she wouldn't be solely responsible for her progress, Rhiane had more mixed emotions. The young beauty did not want to be alone but she could only imagine how horrid she looked. There was no universe in which her first meeting with Luke would have been so spectacular they would have immediately become the best of friends. She was acutely aware she was a roadblock to his future with Sofia in which they were publicly together, that they had disparate personalities, and that she was a confining chain to his ankle. Still, she was vulnerable in this moment, terrified of looking weak and pathetic, and anxious that he would think even less than her he already did.

"You wouldn't," she breathed a touch hoarsely as Luke threatened to eat her sweet-filled dinner. Even as she stared at him with abject horror on her features she knew he absolutely would. Rhiane suspected he didn't have as much of an appetite for sugar as she did but she had seen his defiance with his mother. He would wolf down every morsel just to prove a point. She bit the inside of her cheek lightly as she very briefly contemplated if seeing her once-in-a-lifetime chance at a wholly non-nutritious meal was worth sticking to her principals.

"Fine," she sighed grumpily. The pinpoint precision with which the crown prince attacked her weakness would be admirable if she wasn't annoyed at 'losing.' Her own brother and father had found it nigh impossible to reason with her when it came to anything related to medicine or physicians. That Luke had triumphed so quickly would have made them both shocked. Much as he might detest his future wife he was already beginning to see that she was not immune to certain manipulations- from him at least. She was much less trusting of other aristocrats, and therefore less prone to their machinations, as was evidenced with their reduced effectiveness in eliciting any genuine reactions from her during brief interactions.

"There's an oral medication," Elena offered gently so as to not put off her temporarily compliant patient, "but I don't want to risk that you won't be able to hold it down. We'll put one in your IV but it will take ten or fifteen minutes to take effect," she warned. One of the nurses picked up a small syringe, filled it with fluid from a light blue vial, and injected it into the tubing before the princess elect could change her mind. They could all see the faintly golden liquid swirl briefly in the clear before it flowed into the future royal's hand. Rhiane was clearly still unhappy but she didn't argue. There was a certain weariness lining her face that hadn't been there before the grapes. The day had taken a toll that no amount of chemical intervention could override completely.

"If you'll excuse me a moment," she said with a nod to them both before departing the room.

Once outside, and out of their earshot, Dr. Villani placed a call to the kitchens to prepare everything on the princess elect's order. Previously they had been instructed to only make a third of the choices and in small portions. Now that Queen Camilla was figuratively breathing down her neck, Rhiane was frustrated and discouraged, and everything felt like it was riding on how much dinner the brunette could fortify herself with, she'd rather have some gluttony than the alternative. It was possible that after the grape incident that her charge would be less enthusiastic about any of the treats. She had enough experience to know morale and disposition played a large role in the healing process. They had to make Rhiane excited to eat, eating as much as she could handle, and content enough that her rest was as rejuvenating as possible.

"Dr. Villani," one of the medical assistants said as he approached his senior. "We received a return call from Ms. Black's family. He gave his number and said he needed to speak to his highness directly, however."

"Interesting," she remarked as she took the small paper note. This wasn't what she expected but she had a duty to report it. "Did he identify himself? Was it Hubert Black or Gerald Black?"

"Neither, Dr. Villani. It was Gerald Black's partner," the man admitted. "He said he had information but would not reveal anything more."

"Thank you," she nodded and turned, striding back into the princess elect's room. Given the circumstances she doubted that anyone from a poisoning victim's family would know about the composition of the toxin administered, but there were aspects of this case that they might have insight on, and she could understand why they might use discretion with who they revealed such information to. Asking for the prince himself was bold but not irrational. The man who called could safely assume that it was not beneficial for the heir if his wife scandalously perished only two days into their engagement.

"Prince Luke," she said as she offered the small folded slip of paper. "We received a call but he only wanted to speak with you directly. I believe it's worth your while to return it," she suggested. "If you would like some privacy, I am happy to sit with Ms. Black while you do so."

During this time Rhiane hadn't let go of Luke's hand. The times before he had held she had flushed, or looked uneasy, or been a mixture of flustered and uncomfortable. What he didn't know was that when her mother and brother had been sick and dying she had held their hands, trying to soothe them one of the only ways she knew how, and thus didn't find it as off-putting now that she was ill. His hand felt warm and strong, It provided her reassurance, even if he didn't mean it to, that she could endure through this new trial. In that moment she had forgotten their disagreements and felt genuinely like they might be friends.

The Betrothed

Rhiane quietly watched the queen and her son face off about the events planned for the next day. Truthfully she wasn't certain who she supported; her future mother-in-law was polite to her face, concerned only about the peasant as a pawn to manipulate, but was never outwardly callous, while her fiance was openly hostile at times, showed worry about her occasionally, but tried to be honest. Neither one of them had won over her loyalty completely. Queen Camilla represented the promise of financial security for the Black Family and a diligence to etiquette that meant at least the princess elect wouldn't be disparaged to her face. Luke was her chance for a true ally within the castle walls and someone in which she could confide... if he could get past his disgust at both the situation and her commoner birth. Anyone would have had a difficult time choosing.

She managed a smile to Callista as the royal explained that this opposition was to be expected with her future husband. It reassured her though perhaps not the way in which the princess intended; it made Rhiane realize that this streak in his personality might mean their disagreements of the last couple days would have happened with any contest winner. The former farmer knew she wasn't the easiest individual to deal with, but she had truly considered herself to be one of the candidates that was the least demanding. Many ladies had entered the trials with impossible dreams of a man who couldn't have existed but except in the wildest fantasies. Rhiane had been realistic by contrast- she only wanted a business partner that could remain professional. Cocking her head to the side she wondered if the heir to the throne had always been this way or if his disposition was the result of his father's thinly veiled murder. She did not envy anyone who had to look their mother in the eyes daily and know that they were responsible for the cold-blooded execution of their beloved father.

To say that she thought Luke must be conflicted was an understatement. It was a wonder that anyone in the entire lineage had not snapped worse than a few heated exchanges or non-lethal blows to one another. Not every 'breeding spouse' had been able to be killed when their children were young. A couple had watched the eldest grow to the teenage years before a younger sibling was conceived and it was safe for the commoner spouse to be discreetly erased. The older the offspring, the greater the attachment, and the more deep the wound when the cut was made.

As Rhiane chewed on the grapes she had been handed she pondered on Luke's motivations. His dedication to staying with her had seemed sincere, and his voice gentle, and the edges of her memory recalled some distant promise about making her feel better. She wanted to believe he had argued for a delay for the sake of her health alone- but she also knew that he must love Sophia. The crown prince had abandoned Rhiane shortly after meeting her for the actress, had risked both their images, incited a revitalization in the revolution with his recklessness, and brought the princess elect to a business meeting presumably to make the model jealous. His actions thus far had not been what would be considered honorable. Regardless of her feelings on the matter, she wasn't convinced that her dearly betrothed wasn't jockeying for a chance for more indiscretions before leaving the capital.

It stung when it was announced that the rest of the royalty, the real royalty, was going to have a family dinner while she was confined to bed rest after having just escaped a harrowing encounter with near death. Rhiane kept her face neutral through sheer willpower but she was internally devastated. Tobias had been called to attend to her needs which should have softened the blow but it did not. She knew she was an outsider but the contrast of their stations was painfully clear. Her future in-laws would be enjoying a pleasant meal over fine china and with crystalline glasses, celebrating their victory and good fortune, while she was miserable and left to what staff could be spared. On paper it hadn't seemed quite so horrible an arrangement given the compensation and lifestyle changes offered. In practice, however, she doubted any sum of currency in the world would have not made a heart break at being so easily dismissed and forgotten.

Just as Luke was exiting the room and Tobias turned to enter the room, however, one of the machines that was taped to the torso of the brunette let out a series of sounds that indicated something was amiss. There was a change in the princess elect's breathing pattern and the muscles of her upper torso were convulsing. She twisted to her side almost reflexively and, over the edge of the bed farthest from the door, she sputtered up the pieces of fruit that had just made it to her stomach only minutes before. Most of what her body had ejected was just bile but it burned her throat nonetheless and made her wince as the caustic stomach acid seeped into the abrasions. Both of her doctors had warned her to stay away from anything overly spicy to avoid aggravating the damage to her esophagus in particular but had not forbidden anything as simple as grapes.

"Excuse me your highnesses," a nurse said as she rushed by and then elbowed her way past a surprised Luke and stunned Tobias.

Elena Villani was sprinting down the hall from the small room she had ducked into to enjoy a coffee. "Queen Camilla, I hate to impose, but I need one of you to stay. As I am sure you are aware, doctors do not need authorization for any acts of life-saving intervention. We tried to contact Ms. Black's next of kin earlier today in preparation for procedures that would not, strictly speaking, meet the threshold of 'life-saving,' and therefore require medical consent. We were unable to make contact with either her brother or father. Given that Ms. Black is heavily medicated, and her decision-making abilities are legally compromised, we need either a family member or an authority figure that can make decisions on her behalf."

Another nurse sprinted down the hallway, pushed Tobias to the side, and edged her way into the room. The first nurse had pulled out a cart that had been formerly positioned in the corner of the room. Arranged upon it were various instruments and chemical concoctions that were meant to combat a variety of adverse effects such as the one they were currently facing. The second nurse put her arm around Rhiane and tried to adjust the bed into a more upright position so that their patient could rest without choking if she felt forced to vomit a second time.

"Mrs. Black has an exceptionally high pain tolerance, your majesty, and so we have had to administer less pain medication than we expected. Her judgment is still impaired, however, and I don't know if she can appreciate my recommendations in her state. If you'll excuse me," she said with a bow before half-jogging into Rhiane's room. Technically everything Elena said was correct. Rhiane wasn't considered fit to make medical decisions and no one, not even the most forgiving and generous ethical overseer, would not at least raise a brow if every choice was left in the hands of someone dosed with narcotics. Reading between the lines Luke might surmise that the specialist had also found her patient difficult to wrangle and that she needed someone to help override the crippling paranoia of the princess elect.

"It looks like her body still thinks it's under attack by anything she eats," Dr. Villani remarked to the first nurse as she placed her cup down on the counter and side-stepped around to the other side of the bed. In some circumstances this would be an excellent instinct for the purposes of self-preservation, but in this case it was working against them. Intravenous fluids had helped stabilize and hydrate the princess elect but were not meant to be a substitute for food entirely. She knew even before asking that Rhiane wouldn't want anti-nausea medication; the woman had objected to nearly everything offered that was not absolutely necessary, and it was possible for her to spend at least a couple days on the IV waiting for the overly protective impulses to pass.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Solae pursed her lips into a thin line that clearly expressed she did not endorse his plan of action. That was not to say she did not appreciate that he was trying to make the best out of a poor situation- she knew they were both doing all they could to salvage their poor circumstances- but she still felt as if he conducted himself with the unrealized expectation they were soldiers. Had he been in the company of marines everyone would have been comfortable with the presented scenario. Rene had even considered the variables and come up with a contingency of using the inflatable as a method of transportation home. Unfortunately, the woman and girl in his presence were not fearless, not conditioned for adverse environments, and not as durable as a weathered marine.

"Let's let her rest," she replied before guiding him back outside of the room. The youth would wake to the IV in her arm and might try to rip it out in panic, but the diplomat was willing to take the risk for she sincerely believed that having the two strangers hovering over her would be even more anxiety-inducing. There was nothing more they could do except give Damaris peace and privacy. If she woke to calm quiet she would be more easily convinced that they meant her no harm and, regardless of whether they followed Rene's current plan or modified it, she would also be more easily persuaded to keep putting her faith in the 'princess' and her brawny companion.

"Rene," she sighed as she leaned against the metallic corridor. The cool air that swirled around the interior of the spaceship gave her a slight chill and she hugged her arms to herself. As nice as it was to have the island's breeze wafting in through the open hatch she had grown accustomed to the tropical temperatures of her home on New Concordia. This had not been her first choice for a planetary way-stop not only because of its lack of resources and civilization, but because it she knew it would be an ecological adjustment, and her personal world was already spinning out of control trying to adapt.

"You're asking a lot of a girl her age. She didn't take composure classes like we did or go through half of the exercises that were required to be an heir of an aristocratic line. Not only that, she's undoubtedly traumatized from being washed ashore by tides that I'm sure killed almost everyone else they claimed, and then after nearly drowning she found herself alone on a remote island with no food or water. How do you expect to convince her to go with two people she hardly knows in a patched-together dingy onto the same turbulent waves that just nearly killed her? I want to get her home, and I'm sure she wants to go home, but that is one hell of a leap of faith you're asking her to take."

It was the understatement of the year. Solae realized the Bonaventure was entrenched in mud but it had enough supplies to keep them comfortable for a while before there would be any risk to their survival. Now that the hurricane had passed their greatest threats were the coup and all the members of the Duke's rebellion. No matter how slowly news of the bounty traveled it would still reach Panopontus quite some time before they were on the brink of starvation. The linguist had been very thorough in plundering the slaver's estate in preparation for their journey of indeterminate length. Multiple crates she had yet to open were full of foodstuffs that were hardly gourmet but had an extended shelf life and would keep them nourished enough to reach their destination even if it took weeks.

"Let's take this one step at a time," she said, pinching the area at the top of her nose between her eyes and trying to think of the best approach. "I can wait for Damaris to wake up if you think you can repair the barge on your own, then we can evaluate it together and make certain it's sea-worthy before we commit to anything. I'm not going to pump her for information until she's fed and I am confident she won't shut down with questioning. I know we're pressed for time but trust my expertise when I say we need to handle this with some delicacy. We need to have her confide in us, without revealing much of ourselves, and that isn't easy in the best of circumstances."

"Please tell me you're not expecting to... paddle the barge to land?"