Syrenrei

The Betrothed

Rhiane clenched her jaw as Luke dealt the verbal blow of calling the kiss they shared 'mediocre.' It had been admittedly foolish of her to expect, even passively, that her fiance would provide reassurance that she was wanted or liked when he had failed to do so many times before. The accident had left her feeling like a monster wearing only the costume of a human being. Perhaps the vehicle had been sabotaged but her guilt for the responsibility she bore as driver, for the liability she held in not mitigating the damage better, weighed so heavily on her that she did not now how she would ever escape its pressure. This overwhelming emotion clouded her judgment and made her desperate for any beacon of light to pierce the self-loathing.

The princess elect did not recognize he was punishing her for her self-depreciation. All she could hear was his continued condescension of commoners, of farmers who were her peers not so long ago, how easily he would abdicate his duty of accompanying her to Tobias as she had proposed. For the briefest moment she felt as if she was suffocating. Everything felt wrong. She was injured and being treated against her will, Luke had been severely wounded, the queen would destroy her family if she discovered the truth, she had been rejected as she had feared, and the only person who she knew cared about her without any anger or resentment was in love with her brother, a man who did not need her friendship, who would endure were she gone from this world.

With a burst of anger she sat up in her bed and yanked her good hand with enough force in the opposite direction that the metal stand to which her IV was attached toppled to the floor. Rhiane swung her legs over the side of the bed opposite Luke and pulled again. There was enough leverage now that the needle taped into place onto her hand was freed. She wouldn't die without medication or intravaneous hydration. The stubborn brunette would be in more pain certainly, and it would have been better if she rested to expedite her recovery, but she had slept so much under the influence of sedatives that she wasn't jeopardizing her health. Had the doctor been in room he would have strongly disapproved and cautioned this was the lack of cooperation he was trying to avoid.

But now they could hear yelling on the other side of the door. A body collided with the door, there was the sound of a locking mechanism, and then shouting about a cause. The princess elect let her feet touch the floor and boldly walked towards the sounds. When Luke had been gentle with her he had earned her compliance. Now that they had returned to their more typical hostile exchanges she would not be as easily swayed to heed his directions. She was curious, worried about what was transpired, and if the aggravating physician had new patients that were fighting one another.

A hand tried the door but it did not yield. Rhiane crept closer still until she was only a meter from it, enough that if it swung inward she would not be struck, but near enough she could more clearly hear whatever exchange was taking place. This turned out to be wholly unnecessary. The rebels on the other side had struck the doctor after he had engaged the emergency lock on the door, dragged him into a closet, and were in the process of gagging him and locking him inside. One of them had been treated by him years before and brought back from the precipice of death by his compassion, so they weren't going to kill him. Their target was a sultry vixen ignorant of their intentions.

"Princess!" one of them yelled. Technically she was only a princess elect, not a princess, but they didn't need to be precise to get their message across to their tiny audience. "We know you're in there! Open the door, princess! We can save you!" the voice promised. The only people that would have known they were there beside the palace guards were the would-be assassins. These were the same people that Luke knew, through emails, believed that they could save Rhiane, as well as the country, by murder.

"You don't have to suffer with him any longer," another deeper voice rang out. "We'll take care of your family, princess, you just have to open the door!" This man sounded much more authoritative than the first. The timbre of his voice resonated with an almost paternal tone as if he regularly knew how to appeal to the emotions of others. And it was working. Rhiane was wavering. Rationally she knew from the sounds of altercation that these were not nice people that had come bearing down upon the clinic, but she ached for understanding, for sympathy, for praise. She had not realized how hollow its absence had made her feel.

"Princess, we haven't got much time," a woman called to her. "We promise if you let us in you'll never have to worry about the royal family again!" Because she would be a corpse. But Rhiane didn't know she was their target. They were singing a siren song of escape, of relief from her burdens, of a chance at happiness. She had no reason to suspect they had weapons aimed at the door in anticipation of blasting through it and carrying her to the afterlife for their cause. Because she was so tortured, so frustrated, so tired, she genuinely thought saviors had arrived to whisk her away to a place of security and acceptance.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Since we have the luxury of a bit more time," Solae ventured, "I think we should take as much advantage as is reasonable. Ten, while you are working on your list, would it be possible for us to order a meal?" she inquired as they stepped into the private elevator. Her mind was already whirling with possibilities of what they could do with these borrowed moments. Eventually their duplicates would be discovered to be imposters, but considering they did not have an active tail when they did the switch, the marquise estimated they had hours before there was any real risk to being tracked down to anywhere (much less the casino itself).

"I could arrange that, yes," Ten agreed if only because he was hungry at well. Despite what they might have assumed about the daily schedule of a criminal mastermind, he was not typically up before dawn. There was little reason to be up as such an hour when most of his illegal activity involved coordination of services and forging contracts. Polite endeavors of negotiation were arranged over a brunch at the earliest, not in the middle of the night and not when half the universe was still asleep, regardless of what myths pulp fiction tried to propagate. Breaking the law was not limited to evenings.

"I have another request," Solae added slowly. The elevator had hummed quietly as the digital marker indicated they were ascending to the upper floors of the building. The walls were a garish imitation of gold and the floor a dark composite meant to mimic marble without actually having its weight or hefty price tag. It was hard to imagine nobility looked fondly upon the design, but then again they probably were also not horribly concerned about aesthetics if they were coming to meet their mistress or gamble away a small fortune on a whim.

"Yes?" Ten asked as he continued to scribble on the piece of paper on which he was fixated. He had barely registered the prolonged pause she had taken to wait until they arrived at their floor. The door slid upon silently to allow them entry into a lavish hall than Solae or Rene had expected.

"Do you have an attorney that you can trust?" she asked quietly as they walked towards the suites Ten indicated he had acquired. The older man briefly halted his long stride to cast her a sidelong glance at this unusual query. Rene was more openly puzzled though he was understandably more concerned about the room and securing their next location. Being a marine suited him more than he realized. Perhaps other soldiers lacked his moral convictions, but he was a man that took pride in protecting others, and had an innate sense of how to shield that couldn't be taught at any academy.

"I do," Ten answered slowly. "More than one depending on the matter at hand. Why do you ask?"

"I need someone that specializes in wills," Solae stated assertively. Ten had just waved a card in front of the door to unlock it- a rudimentary system from ages past but one that still lent itself to clientele who desired anonymity and easy access- and motioned for his companions to join him inside.

"Wills?" Ten repeated with a raised brow as he closed the door to the suite behind them. They were lingering now in the entry hall for the purchased rooms as both men, who were surprised by this declaration, were sufficiently stunned they did not think to take a seat further inward.

"Who do you want?" Solae asked cryptically. "Secure me an attorney to meet me here and draft a legally binding will to my specifications. I'll need witnesses as well to authenticate my signature. If you can do that for me I'll search the vault for the person you want the most. It doesn't need to be anyone connected to Ralch, just someone over whom you need leverage, the person that is most vexing to your enterprise."

"You want to write a will for yourself?" Ten clarified. It wasn't impossible. Licensed lawyers were not as reputable on Zatis as on Capella, where they were retainers for the most powerful and prestigious, but that did not mean they were unqualified or inexperienced with nuanced needs and matters. Occasionally a duke or duchess would need to maneuver themselves or others away from the prying eyes of the courts, and there were few better places than Zatis for discretion. On a more practical note, even with very few regulations enforced on Zatis, as citizens of the empire the residents did have rights, disputes, and lives that were not limited to the bio domes alone.

"I do," Solae confirmed. "I have no heirs and Rene and I are not legally married. Since I doubt Rene would prefer to elope, I'd like to have a will drafted that will bequeath all my assets to him upon my death rather than my cousins. If necessary it could be distributed only after he's relieved of his duties as an enlisted man."

Ten was a shrewd man. Her reasons were more emotional than pragmatic, but it was not without its benefit to him. These cousins to which she alluded were unlikely to be as understanding with him as the diplomat was, nor were they indebted to him, and he doubted they would be moved by his assistance in keeping Solae alive through these trials. It was wiser to bet on the known than the unknown. Rene was not a lifelong friend of Ten nor would he ever be, but he was a man obviously in love, and he honorable enough to follow the spirit and wishes of his fiancee no matter how ardently he disagreed with her judgment.

"Anyone I want?" he asked before Rene could interject a protest.

"According to the ledger, information is categorized and stored in the vault that is closest in proximity to the transaction or event that took place. If the person you're after lives on Zatis and stays here, then this vault will be the one that has information relating to him if there is any to be found," Solae explained. "So with that understanding of the parameters, yes, anyone you want."

The Betrothed

"I don't need them," she simmered and sulked with a defiant indignation. As much as she wanted to rip off the IV to prove her point she was unable to do so. The sling effectively immobilized her arm; she was too injured to be able to accomplish much movement when the limb was free and now that it was restrained it was nearly impossible to do anything more significant than wiggle her fingers. The needle providing her a steady dose of fluid and medication was carefully taped to the back of her right hand. Technically it was accessible to her left hand, despite the sling, but she wasn't able to angle and use sufficient force to pull out the instrument. Rhiane was so furious at the small tube she almost forgot about the event that led to her current predicament.

"I won't hurt myself more," she insisted though she did not fight against the gentle pressure he exercised to keep her laying down. Had she thought she had even a chance to resist she would have seized the opportunity. Even injured, however, Luke could handily overpower her with ease. Broadcast loved to portray him like a modern day Casanova, effortlessly oozing charm and sex appeal, but she knew that he was not as willowy as some of the models that graced advertisements with their dazzling smiles. The heir to the throne had been in the military of his own accord. Rhiane could have rumbled with a man who didn't exercise, was on an extreme diet, and had never been in a fight before, but there would have to be far more going in her favor before she could best Luke physically.

"You're worse than Sebastian," the princess elect mumbled under her breath. She fidgeted as her anger began to ebb and her memories began to replay the accident. As Luke's eyes drifted towards the window she recalled the weightless sensation of rolling in the SUV as her seat belt strained to hold her in place, the deathly quiet as the vehicle struck the fallen tree trunk and came to a rest, the sickening realization that she had indirectly harmed Luke, and how he grimaced with each breath. Emotions played against her features as she clearly felt paralyzing guilt towards the crown prince for the part she played in causing him to limp and need a brace to stabilize his torso.

Rhiane involuntarily flushed as the kiss was brought to the forefront of his mind. Obviously he had wanted her to take the sedative, possibly to make her quiet since all they did was argue, but she couldn't understand her fiance's motivations. He had gone from being wholly apathetic to her at the engagement ball to so concerned about her health he justified a kiss. What happened after she swallowed the pill was hazy. Faintly she thought they might have kissed longer than was strictly necessary or excusable, but everything immediately afterwards was a gaping void. She tried as hard as she could to conjure even an expression he had before she drifted up but her psyche did not answer her summons. Perhaps nothing more occurred, she reasoned, although she somehow knew that was not true. Questioning Luke would do her no good. Neither of them wanted to have a messy romantic entanglement so it seemed it was better to avoid the topic altogether.

"I can talk to the farmers alone," she said after clearing her throat. "I'm sure the last thing you want to do now is share more time together in the hot spring," she ventured. Rhiane's voice wavered slightly. He knew, even if he did not admit it himself, that the brunette asserting herself only a couple feet away liked him in some capacity. She covered her feelings well in public but the artificial distance she kept erecting between them made all that much more sense now- she was trying to keep things professional. The kingdom's bachelorettes envied her with an intensity that bordered on hatred, yet she refused him repeatedly, and was determined not to let a natural love be nurtured.

"I'm sure Tobias can go with me," Rhiane continued. "I'll come up with an excuse why you're not there. Assuming your mother even lets me make the appearance on our behalf once she discovers I was driving," she sighed. Luke had wanted her awake but this added the complication that she wouldn't cooperate with his plan to allege he was the daredevil manning the wheel. The princess elect wanted to be punished for her perceived crimes and was fixated on trying make this wish come to fruition. "Maybe it can be my penance for everything..." she whispered more to herself than to him.

The Betrothed

The doctor walked back in a couple minutes after Luke had set down the device in frustration. He did not offer any condolences or sympathy for the dropped call as he made his way over to the slumbering princess elect. Needless to say he surmised what had occurred to the heir to the throne. On the best of days connections to the nation's network were difficult to maintain and the storm raging outside had failed to abate in a show of cooperation for the residents of the village. Not only had he anticipated this would occur, Luke would have still been engaged in a conversation if he had reached the person whom he was trying to call upon. Once his back was turned he couldn't help but allow a smile to alight on his features as he leaned over his patient. It was nice to see that nature did have the favoritism of modern society.

"I don't have as many options as I am sure you are used to," the physician explained as he carefully lifted Rhiane's head to thread a strap of the sling behind her, "but there is some pain medication for both of you. Some was already administered to you on your arrival, but the appropriate dosage varies from one individual from the next. Let me know if you are uncomfortable," he said, distracted as he carefully manipulated Rhiane's injured arm into the woven sling. It was of sturdier construction than the emergency kit but it was far from luxurious. Because a sling was reusable, most of the ones the facility had were returned once the person that had needed them was healed. He was certain if Luke discovered this recycling was common practice he would be aghast.

"Should only be a few more minutes until she wakes," he said as he straightened and moved towards the window. He pushed aside some of the clean, yet frayed and faded, linen curtains. It was impossible to see more than a few inches beyond the pane because of fierce the wind and rain remained. It was fortunate that they had found the royal couple when they had. Being stranded in a damaged SUV would not offer them much protection for any length of time nor would it be beneficial to their condition.

"No... no... I don't want..." Rhiane breathed with her eyes still closed. The doctor turned and swiftly made his way back over to her bed. It was drowsy rambling rather than cries of anguish. Sedation wore off incrementally and it took the mind several minutes, sometimes longer, to process that it was coming back to reality. The princess elect moved as if to turn on her side but her attendant gently pressed down on her good shoulder to prevent the movement as she awoke. "I said..." she sighed with annoyance in her drowsy voice. She was recalling her frustrations in discovering that Luke had tricked her and that the staff of the clinic wasn't going to let her refuse every treatment option.

"You... " she finally said as her eyes fluttered open. The doctor tried to smile but also grimaced slightly. Rhiane hadn't been conscious long in his presence before they had forced her into the realm of dreams for the purposes of recovery and preventing further harm to herself, but he was acquainted with her fierce opposition to any sensible medical suggestion. He had no illusions about her peacefully accepting that he had placed her fractured arm in a sling.

"Your security force has already been advised you're here and are en route," the doctor said, cutting her off preemptively. "Prince Luke is awake. He gave me authorization to place your arm in a sling. I am going to get some drinks for you," he said meaningfully, "and give you a chance to talk. If you need me there are small buttons beside your bed that will ring the other rooms to let me know you need assistance."

"I don't need any of this!" Rhiane protested but the taller, older man had already decided to give Luke an opportunity to persuade his fiance and left through one of the two doors to the room; the other was a bathroom. If the former farmer became too agitated he'd intervene and tend to her but she wasn't in any imminent danger as of yet. If they were really an engaged pair in love surely Luke would deliver on his casual promises to keep her calm and relatively complacent.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"That is a considerable amount of precautionary measures," Ten remarked, stating the obvious. Solae politely ignored the undertone of disappointment but Rene let the hint of a frown reach his features. The alliance of the engaged couple with the criminal mastermind was only as strong as the benefit it afforded in both parties. As a marquise of the Falia line there were places that she could go that Ten could not and never would, but he wasn't foolish to ignore the opportunity to seize her vault himself might outweigh this mutually beneficial relationship.

Of course there was an even larger payoff that Ten was hoping would come to fruition. Should Solae survive this war, which was a large presumption given the advantages Duke Tan currently had working in his favor, she would undoubtedly earn herself the favor of the empress herself. The noblewoman would become a hero, an imperial favorite, and would be passively if not explicitly elevated socially. It was always a boon to have people in higher places and he could not imagine a scenario in which he'd have the access and ear of someone that was personally praised by the throne. Aristocrats could be criticized, scorned, and ostracized, but to do so to someone who was lauded a hero, a paradigm of virtue, and a manifestation of fealty to the Stelllar Empire would only mar the reputation of the one with loose lips. That was not to say Solae would be unable to do wrong, but that she would be given much more latitude, and it would take a serious, violent, horrifying offense to strip her of the positive recognition.

"There are a lot of precautionary measures," Solae conceded as she flipped through the pages. There were over thirty hand-written pages detailing the security systems for the vaults. Only blood members of the Falia lineage could enter any of the vaults. This wouldn't have been possible centuries ago, but in the current day and age it was a guarantee someone that shared DNA markers that identified a Falia would be living. Solae's mother had miscarriages, but she could have employed surrogates, and there were multitudes of embryos besides the success of the current marquise that were still in cold storage should something occur. Even after having the correct genetics required by the system, only one person could enter a time, and there was a lengthy and difficult process to make each location recognize a new family member. If her cousins were not already added it would take literal years for them to set foot in any of the referenced places.

"You want to go now?" Ten asked with raised eyebrows.

"If my parents left this ledger for me to find in the event of their death, I'm sure they took similar measures to confirm I was added to at least the Zatis's vault's list of approved Falia members," she pointed out. "Time is of the essence as we all know. I think it is worth the risk. Nothing in the book tells me what's in any of the vaults, so we can't be certain until I investigate them individually, but I'm willing to wager there is information that we could use to persuade some of Ralch's supporters to stand aside." While the first portion of the written records concerned procedures for access, the rest was a listing of vault locations by date of establishment. The fading of the ink and changes in handwriting was indicative of multiple generations making additions as needed. There were over twenty, each on a different planet and with a separate set of directions for both the point of entry and the method of transport.

"We won't have a way to reach you once you're inside," Ten mused aloud, "so we'd have to wait for you outside." His eyes flickered to Rene. This was the most danger of their endeavor. Soon enough someone would realize who had taken the marquise and her paramour under their wing and provided them shelter, and that would result in an assault. The vault might be the only chance they had to reduce the numbers of the Tan loyalists and mercenaries, but until then they'd be vulnerable, and he knew the soldier would make that same analysis. The hulking machinery in the center of the vehicle may see some use yet.

"I'll need a list of Ralch's..." Solae started, struggling for the most politically correct description.

"Lackeys," Ten finished dryly. "I'll make you a list," he confirmed as he set coordinates into the auto-pilot, engaged the feature, and fished for a writing implement in his pocket. This was improvisation in planning at its finest.

"The Zatis vault is only accessible by a tube," Solae said as she showed Rene the relevant page in the letter. The back seat was wide enough that she could share from the opposite corner of the rear of the car without difficulty, but she had curled up on the luxurious seating directly next to him. Her arm brushed against his as she ran a finger down the text. "There should be an engraved circle on the ground that, once I step on it, will descend and encapsulate me in a much more compact cousin of the pods in the bank." That was to say that the circular floor in question was only three feet in diameter so it was physically impossible to fit two adults in the space. "Once my identity is verified it will take me to the vault where I'll be able to search for the information we need."

She paused and let out a long sigh. "I understand why it was made this way, but I wish you could go with me," she said to Rene as she laid her head on his shoulder. Quietly she wished that they had more time in Ten's private suite. Perhaps when this was all over she'd wed Rene and take an excessively long honeymoon to not just celebrate but to try to recuperate from all the stress they had endure together. They had been jumping from one crisis to another. It was hard to imagine what they would be like if there was only peace, serenity, and relaxation for more than a scant few hours between mortal threats.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I understand," Solae said with a glance to Rene. While they were still being monitored by the artificial intelligence, who was polite but far less endearing than Mia, she felt confident that this tier of the process was not being actively recorded and watched by employees of the bank. No elite businessman, shrewd criminal, or paranoid aristocrat would want the confidential data they used to authenticate their identity being reviewed. It not only would be a breach of privacy it would compromise the integrity of their system by letting staff learn the answers to the fourth exam: rapid fire questions.

"Please approach and hold up your hand of choice," the computer ordered simply.

The marquise raised her right hand. Out of the wall extended a robotic arm covered in a porcelain polymer casing. It neared Solae and placed a round knob at the tip of the mechanism against her middle finger. Before either of them could question the machine's intentions a needle too small to perceive had pricked her flesh, drawn blood, and gathered its specimen. There was a soft hiss as an antiseptic was administered to clean the minuscule wound before the a temporary sealant was applied. In Solae's opinion this was the very definition of excess but she could appreciate how a person with more wealth than they knew how to spend would be insistent at 'treatment' for this test.

"Thank you for your compliance. Please place both hands in the blue circles you see on the screen before you," the computer ordered as the robotic arm retracted and retreated back into the wall for presumed analysis against their records. The kiosk's large blank screen was illuminated by two large digitally drawn circles equidistant from each other and the edges of the surface. She drew in a deep breath and lowered both hands as directly. This made her much more nervous than the blood draw. Solae couldn't quite conceive how her parents might have been able to discreetly obtain a scan of the unique ridges, lines, and grooves of her hands for vault access. Just as she was started to feel a tug of doubt the blue rings turned a pleasant shade of green indicative of a match.

"Thank you for your compliance," the computer stated again. Again Solae glanced at Rene. This must be a statement that passively acknowledged she had not failed yet. As encouraging to have a more direct reassurance that they weren't about to be forcibly detained or ejected, she had no choice but to accept these were circumstances she could not change. "Please remove your hands from the apparatus and remain still while the body scan is initiated. This will take approximately two minutes to complete."

The next one-hundred-twenty seconds seemed to stretch on for an eternity. They had far worse time crunches with their lives on the line and longer periods in space with nothing to do except sleep and stare at the stars, but it was knowing how much was on the line that had Solae on constant edge. The truth of her parents, of herself, and even Rene's past and future lay beyond whatever kernel of knowledge she'd be given to lead her to her parent's personal vault. Ten had offered her liquor the night prior to calm her nerves and she had declined. It was a decision she now regretted deeply.

"Thank you for your compliance. We will proceed with the verbal verification via questionnaire. You will have ten seconds in which to answer five security questions chosen for the box registered to your name. Please confirm you are ready to continue."

"I'm ready," Solae said firmly. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable she reasoned. Either she had all the answers already or she did not; there would be no epiphany if she procrastinated.

"Question 1: What is the name the favorite song of Alyosha Falia?" the computer commanded.

"The Truth of the Sun," Solae quickly answered. Her late father had several he counted among his favorites but this one in particular he said reminded him of her and her mother. It was a tune well over a century old have had two separate refrains with metaphors that very nearly described the color of her and her mother's hair.

"Question 2: How many miscarriages did Selene Falia have before successfully carrying Solae Falia to term?"

"Two," the marquise answered more softly. Science, medicine, and technology as a whole had made numerous magnificent leaps over the last millennia. Commoners often believed that anything they could imagine was possible now especially if one was affluent enough to make dreams become reality. There were no absolutes and guarantees for even the imperial line. Noblewoman could be implanted with fertilized embryos and still lose their children; not even the most accomplished specialist could promise success. The universe had not yielded all its secrets. Needless to say, miscarriages were never disclosed to anyone not in the immediate family who needed to know.

"Question 3: What is Selene Falia's favorite color?"

"Red," Solae replied feeling buoyed. Her mother had always worn white even in the courts unless dress etiquette required otherwise. She had never explicitly told her daughter why she always wore white over red, but her excuse was that red was herself and white was what she chose to show; it would be foolish to be overly honest with society. On another occasion she claimed only a marquise or duchess could keep so many garments impeccably pristine white like freshly fallen snow.

"Question 4: Who was the first suitor proposed for Solae Falia when she was six months old?"

"Glenn Lande," was the slower answer. Her parents had joked about this. Unfortunately Glenn Lande was not of an appropriate status for their consideration, and they had no intentions of betrothing their infant to another. The Viscount that had made the offer was severely disappointed he could not use a long engagement and eventual marriage to climb a few rungs of the aristocracy.

"Question 5: What was Alyosha Falia's first pet?"

"A potted plant," Solae ventured, unsure of what the type of plant was as it had never been described to her.

"Thank you for your cooperation. Your identity has been authenticated," the computer announced with a programmed lift in tone so as to sound mildly congratulatory. "Here is your security box," it declared as a slot opened in the floor and a box no more than twelve inches by twelve inches and six inches thick was lifted upwards onto a small oval-shaped table that formed underneath from similarly hidden components.

Solae paused as she stared at the ornate golden container. There was no lock of any code but she was frozen in anticipation of what may be awaiting her. Irrationally afraid that the computer would declare they had a limited amount of time to spend in the room, she swung back the top hinge quickly. A small hand-written ledger titled 'Falia' and nothing more was tucked inside. This is what Ten had predicted. He had maintained that her parents would not have entrusted her inheritance in any bank, no matter how acclaimed, and instead they would find a clue leading them to the destination they truly sought. He was right. "We should wait to read this when we get back," she whispered as she stared at it but did not reach in much less flip through the pages to see what might be inscribed between the thick bindings.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Here goes nothing," Solae whispered more for her own benefit than either of her companions. She inhaled deeply, held her breath for a moment, and pushed the button to release the soft seal on her door as she exhaled slowly. The immaculate hatch swung open in silent obedience. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Rene following her lead as he too exited albeit on the other side. The marquise swung her legs to the side, heels echoing with a soft tap as they met the polished smooth flooring and she stood. Already gone was the humble disposition that Rene had come to love, that had enchanted the Syshin, that had compelled a little girl to put down her branch club. For the sake of their goals she could not simply act like a noblewoman. Solae had to become Svetlana Carrow to suceed.

Without sparing a glance for her 'bodyguard,' as must trust he'd be at her side soon enough, the woman strode towards the desk with an arrogantly rigid posture. Instead of looking directly at the sandy-haired stranger that waited for her patiently at his station as she approached, she kept her face titled slightly upright so that she was looking down upon him despite their differences in height. It was a subtle nod to the self-importance even minor aristocrats held for others, including their peers and superiors. Additionally, a simple attendant such as this was treated barely better than a servant in the best of social circles. Solae knew she was expected to be polite but cold, haughty, and distant, without a shred of congeniality or empathy for the person beneath the tailored suit. He was beneath her. This charade made her heart ache in protest.

She had tried to warn Rene of this dramatic shift in her presence. Utilizing a cipher helped to to disguise her identity, as well as the garments, cosmetics, and wig, but she could not be her unusually compassionate self until they were alone again or with people whom they deeply trusted. Duke Tan undoubtedly would comb through her history and deduce some of her more unusual personality traits. The appearance and alias could do most of the work for her, but if she was oozing warmth and appreciation for the workers of Zatis it would draw a great deal of attention on account of how rare these qualities were in anyone of stature, and it would not be long until an agent of the self-styled emperor had picked up her trail.

"I'd like to access my box," Solae said as she reached the counter as if she expected them to know her name and immediately wave her through.

"Your name?" the clerk inquired evenly. She was not the first nor the worst of the customers an establishment such as this attracted. Criminals were surprisingly enough kinder to the employees. Because Solae was conducting herself with a sense of righteous entitlement he had already surmised she was not of the illicit element.

"Lady Svetlana Carrow," she intoned with an emphasis on her title.

"Thank you. Will you need an escort or do you need you know how to locate your box?" the man asked after clearing his name with those recorded in his system. The screen his fingers flew across was covered in a protective film that prevented wandering eyes from glimpsing any confidential data. Only an individual looking at it straight-on would not be be prevented from being subjected to an amber opaque sheen.

"I require my privacy," Solae said dismissively and moved towards a door that had neither a reader for a card nor a handle. She was beginning to regret this show of assurance, doubting everything she had just done, when a metallic panel shifted backward two inches and then receded into the floor. Eager to depart her audience the diplomat stepped over the last inch of sinking shield and proceeded into a long hallway. In a facility such as this there would be cameras to monitor them for acts of violence or vandalism, but there would be no audio, as there were limits what patrons would endure in the name of passive preventative measures before taking their business elsewhere.

"From what we were told there should be small identical alcoves up ahead. I will step into one," she recalled aloud, using her hair to obscure her lips so that it could not be transcribed later from security footage. "Make certain you're right behind me because we'll be sealed in once I initiate the tests. Once I pass the pod will transport us through the internal system to a room in which we can receive the box and whatever contents there are inside. I thought Ten might be mistaken about this," Solae admitted, "but they had the name he gave. It's hard to imagine either of my parents in a place like this," she added somberly. "I thought... I really thought I knew them, but I'm not sure I did."

"Are you absolutely certain you're ready for this? While I imagine my parents would have prepared for the possibility of dying in tragic manner, and had contingencies in place, I can't absolutely guarantee that I won't have an issue with the rapid-fire questions that they inputted. I'll understand if you wish to remain behind," she added though her tongue was sluggish in her mouth as an unspoken objection to this course of action. Rene's unwavering support in her had carried her through more than one crisis. She'd be lying to herself if she claimed everything she had learned since they had met Ten had not made her question her world as she knew it, made her feel emotionally adrift, and confused about whether parts of her childhood were fantastical illusions.

The Betrothed

At first the doctor looked legitimately baffled when Luke so casually brought up the alternative treatments available. While he was intimately aware of the difference between the capital and the villages littering the outskirts of the country, it was becoming quickly apparent his prince was not. The physician had assumed the visual clues and his earlier allusions would have led the heir to the natural conclusion there were limitations caused by the local populace's poverty. What he failed to anticipate was how relatively sheltered Luke had been. That was not to say he had not endured hardship, or had been coddled inside the palace, but rather he had not felt the very real pains of going without provisions that could greatly impact the quality of life. Every member of the living world had challenges regardless of their position in the social strata. Whether or not he could impart understanding of the plight of the poor specifically remained to be seen.

"It is not a lack of training, your highness," the doctor replied briskly with slight offense. "This particular medical facility has a smaller budget than what you may be used to," he tried to diplomatically and tactfully explain. There were only so many polite ways to say that the health of the affluent and city dwellers was valued more highly than the citizens that toiled the field. "I am familiar with Flexegard but, with the number of injuries we treat and what is distributed to us by the capitol, plaster casts are what we can provide. You are welcome to review our orders and shipments yourself; it is a matter of public record."

No bureaucrat bothered themselves with worrying over individual clinics and practices. Requests were submitted to the committee, clerks slashed numbers as they saw fit, sent their analysis upward, and government funds were distributed accordingly. Luke operated on the premise that everyone under him had a similar code of ethics and would not have a bias that impacted their work. The sad reality was that they did; accounting was tweaked to benefit the municipalities that had more political sway, to the detriment of outlying communities that had much less voice. Queen Camilla and her subordinates weren't calling on individuals to spot check the accuracy. This doctor and his patient were just nameless, faceless numbers, easily ignored, easily dismissed.

"One of my nurses was dead on her feet and had to be sent home. The other is with an expectant mother at the moment," the man explained again. "We are the only three staff here," he said as he stood. Cold calculations had determined only three were absolutely 'necessary' upon review. Once when he had first moved to the village he had protested this apparent madness but had been unable to convince anyone to give him payroll for another person. The figurative pencil pusher alleged he had everything required to meet the needs of the local residents. Of course the person that sent the formal refusal had not once set foot anywhere near the town.

"I'll apply the sling," the doctor agreed with Luke's reassurance he could keep Rhiane from ripping it off at the first opportunity. "Please excuse me while I find it among the supplies. You can use my mobile but the storm," he gestured vaguely towards the covered window, "may interrupt connectivity. We do not have the best of reception on days with poor weather." It was a vast understatement but he didn't have the patience to describe the technological pitfalls in the area as well. A more petty streak in him wanted the crown prince who thought so highly of himself, who took his privilege for granted, to experience a small sampling of their frustrations. He dug a device out of his pocket that was several years old and handed it over casually before strolling out of the room to both give privacy and seek the sling in question.

The Betrothed

"I appreciate you are concerned for Miss Black, your highness," the doctor said slowly without moving from his chair. Across the room Luke could more clearly see his fiancee. She was still dressed in the same clothes from earlier in the day but was thoughtfully covered with both freshly laundered bleached white sheets and a thick handmade blanket knitted in a dark yarn. The IV made it necessary for her arms to be outside the warm coverings, but she would have been dry and comfortable even if she had been awake. When they had been rescued from the wreckage of the SUV her long hair had been loose, wet, and tangled, but someone- presumably a nurse- had brushed and expertly braided the thick tresses over her right shoulder in a style peasant and nobility alike could appreciate. Regardless of their inability to persuade the princess elect into accepting their recommendations for treatment, the clinic's staff had not neglected her.

"Miss Black's arm is fractured," the man explained. "There are two options available. The first is to put her arm in a sling. This was offered to her already, but she was emphatic she would not use it, that she would immediately take her arm out of it, and it'd be put to better use on someone who needs it. Ultimately if she follows through with that threat she could exacerbate the injury." It was the most polite way of saying that Rhiane could could be stubborn and irrational enough to harm herself more than she was already. The doctor wanted to help the former farmer, but he would not do anything to jeopardize her health. He had taken the oath but he also had a conscience; if he knew that his actions would compel her to take drastic measures that would make her worse off than when she began, he would be failing her as a physician.

"Alternatively, we could put her in a plaster cast, but we wouldn't have time to do so before she wakes from the sedative. It would be harder for her to remove and would provide better stabilization for the bone, but it also would be more of a challenge to replace later, especially if she remains... uncooperative." What the doctor didn't explicitly state and Luke would know was that a plaster cast was cheap, easily applied, and effective, but it wasn't as efficient as what was readily available in the capital. Medical advancements in the last hundred years alone had perfected numerous types of both braces and casts manufactured from a combination of synthetic materials that were less obtrusive, had superior mobility, and didn't require a bag put over them to bathe properly. No one in the castle had ever had a plaster cast- not even the servants.

The royal infirmary didn't have the limitations of this rural medical center. As crown prince it was undoubtedly a foreign experience to be told treatment options were not available. Any and all medication that Queen Camilla and her family could ever want or need were stocked or could be immediately delivered. Money was no obstacle so she was able to employ the mostly highly trained experts, afford all the newest innovations, and make purchases that weren't available to the lords and ladies of her court much less the general populace. The commoners wallowing in poverty did not have the same resources. Nurses and doctors didn't want to live in a hovel in a village on the border. Pharmaceutical companies could manipulate bureaucracy and have their products labeled as 'elective' so the prices could be inflated, pumping up their profits, but barring laborers from being able to realistically procure them. Shipments with the best supplies were routed first to major cities were the affluent resided.

"Distrust of doctors is not that uncommon," the man remarked quietly. "I have had several patients with her mindset, though none that I recall that have refused a sling because they think someone else would be more deserving. I was hopeful that you might be able to talk to her and keep her calm enough we can convince her to eat at least. She asked for you repeatedly," he added, waiting to see the prince's response. He was not a fool. Everyone had seen the same broadcasts and had their suspicions about the veracity about the allegations of love between the engaged pair. It was possible their relationship was not strong enough he could quiet her with hysterical- or he might simply not care to try.

The Betrothed

The doctor was sitting in a chair approximately two feet away from the left side of Luke's bed with a book in his lap. The room was dimly lit and empty save for the crown prince, his fiancee, and the single physician, who was relaxing with a novel as he waited for his patient to awake. Four of the beds were unoccupied, including the two to Luke's right, and Rhiane lay sound asleep in the one directly opposite his. A single IV was the only equipment attached to her person. Undoubtedly she had been sedated much as he had been but the effects of the medication had yet to abate.

"We thought lowering the lights would help encourage your body to rest," the doctor mused aloud once he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. He fell quiet a minute more before pulling a bookmark out of his coat pocket and marking the page. When he closed the book he finally looked directly at his charge and gave him his undivided attention. "Miss Black is fine," he added before there was a repeat performance of the heir to the throne swinging his legs over the side of the bed in a misguided attempt to aid his betrothed. "She declined treatment for her arm and ethically since her life is not in danger we could not compel her to heed our advice. Once she recalled the collision she became increasingly distressed and we administered pain medication and something to help her sleep before she caused actual harm to herself."

Reading between the lines Luke could wager a guess that Rhiane was more than merely uncooperative. She was not antagonistic, but she viewed medical professionals with a thinly veiled distrust and mild hostility, and coupled with her emotions over the accident it was no small miracle they had kept her from leaping out of her bed and bolting away. The local clinic could not exercise any authority over the princess elect either; Luke had been unconscious and Queen Camilla far removed from the situation. Rhiane was the only person that could make decisions for herself. Irrational judgment had prevailed, leaving the doctor with no options except to induce slumber and hope someone later could talk sense into the woman.

"Your retinue is on its way but delayed by a resurgence in the storm," he said with a motion to the window. The curtains were drawn shut for privacy but he could hear a torrent of rain hitting the roof above and pouring down the glass. Thunder rumbled in the distance but this had not been the primary concern of his entourage. Every five to ten seconds there was an audible gust that rattled the exterior fixtures of the building menacingly. Nolan and Tobias would not be pleased at this turn of events but since they knew that the couple were alive and not in imminent danger, as well as being relatively cared for, it was best to not risk having a second or third SUV run off the road in ominous conditions. Not even the reigning monarch and all her technology could completely overcome the threat of Mother Nature.

"We've put a brace on you," he noted, referring to a firm molded plastic cushioned with foam that was pressed against his side. It restricted movement purposefully. "You cracked a few ribs which why we recommend you laying on your back when possible to avoid putting weight or pressure on them. We've also cleaned the cut on your thigh and applied a fresh bandage. Unfortunately that is the best we can do for you with the resources available here. I had to send one of my nurses home and the other is attending an expecting mother, so I will remain here with you until your transportation arrives."

There were several idiosyncrasies about the rural clinic. The doctor who was addressing Prince Luke enunciated his words with a soft clip that was unheard of with the lower classes. Given his comfort with the prince, the way he spoke, and his general manners he was not born a peasant like Rhiane- either he was middle-class or lower upper-class to have the apparent refinement. Additionally the clinic, which at a glance was in a state of disrepair, was exceedingly clean. Every instrument within sight was carefully arranged and shining in the soft illumination. The linens, while cheap, faded, and some threadbare, were clean and devoid of any grime. Broken and cracked tiles had been recently scrubbed and were almost as immaculate as when a maid swept through his quarters. This might be a place inhabited and used by the poor but it was not dusty or filthy. Familiar as a sight like this was for the former farmer, it was likely a first for Luke.

"Is there anything I can get you?" The doctor checked his watch. It was a simple device, an antique by the capital's standards, but functional. "I can wake Miss Black if you choose, but she should be awake within the next ten minutes otherwise."