Syrenrei

The Betrothed

For the first time since they had entered the villa the vacant gaze on Rhiane's visage shifted and she turned her head on the pillow to look at Luke. She had been passively aware of conversations and movement before that moment but nothing had been able to pull her out of her inward-facing attention. The princess elect was unaware of Tobias's secret affections, but even if she had been the way he embraced her, carrying her with a professional grace and dignity, did not create the same sparks as it did when Luke was her companion. The sitting room that had been repurposed for treatment posed no threat to her emotional state because there were no implements, no tools, no staff that would force her to undergo procedures. Nothing had mattered enough. The farmer could have spent hours being ignored, spoken over, and carted to destination after destination and she may not have reacted. A pervasive emptiness had a firm grip upon her psyche.

But Luke's words had shone through the intangible darkness. His hand slipped into hers and his fingers between her own as he continued to speak. Rationally Rhiane had known what she had seen was not a unique experience. Tobias, Nolan, and all the other bodyguards had higher body counts than they would ever disclose to her she was certain. The crown prince had told her before that attempts had been made on his life and it only stood to reason the would-be assassins had met bloody, violent ends. Hearing him talk about it, though, was reassuring in a way she had not anticipated. Even if she had not been alone in having this sort of trauma, the fact no one spoke of it, no one discussed it, no one recounted it made her feel just as alone as if she was the only one.

"I don't want to sleep," she finally said. "I see his face when I close my eyes," she whispered as she closed her eyes briefly. Luke felt her shiver under the covers and limply squeeze his hand as they fluttered open again. From the expression on her face it was clear she was speaking the truth. This was not an unusual occurrence; it was why the doctor had warned that she would be prone to nightmares in the immediate future until her brain could find other things compelling enough it would not be so singularly fixated. Time would help but so would distractions once the memory was not so fresh.

"It wasn't your fault," Rhiane added, referring to his confession about shooting a man dead to protect his sister. "But this was my fault." Her voice was low and raspy rather than her typically loud and assertive tone. "I failed them. If I hadn't they would never have come to the clinic, and you wouldn't have been in danger, and they... might still be alive."

Earlier Luke had revealed to his fiancee that she had been the intended target all along, not him, but he hadn't yet had an opportunity to elaborate on anything more. The natural conclusion she had arrived at was that the rebellion hated her sufficiently this had been their motivation for three attempts on her person: poisoning at the EvoLab event, sabotage of the SUV, and then the armed attack at the clinic. Had they reviled the princess elect they would not have ever tried to kill her. The revolution was less interested in the heir to the throne because while he was a charismatic leader, he had enough flaws, scandals, and figurative blemishes for them to capitalize upon. It was because Rhiane was such a galvanizing force, spreading an image of compassion, acceptance, and understanding, convincing the public that there was someone at the palace that cared for them and spoke for them, that they had felt the need to negate her impact. If left unchecked she could deliver a fatal blow to their recruitment. Deceased she could no longer polish the tarnished reputation of the queen's family. The dream of the coup had been a barely competent royal-to-be, a woman that would smile and wave but have no substance; instead they had been granted a farmer more adept than they had thought possible.

In short it was Rhiane's success, not her failure, that had led to their murderous fervor.

Classified assessments by the intelligence community were that the plan was ingenious- though that word was not used for fear of being reprimanded by the queen. In the event Rhiane died, regardless of circumstances, the monarchy would be blamed. The rebellion was using their history against them: everyone was quite aware that 'breeding spouses' had a definitive expiration date. This was tolerated, if not embraced, because the citizens believed the peasants who enjoyed the riches, the affection, the prestige, and all that went with their victory were properly compensated for an untimely death- and it was no secret to those that entered what would happen after a decade or so of marriage. If Rhiane died prematurely suspicion and scorn would follow, no matter what the mass media told them, and regardless of the truth of the matter. Luke could sincerely mourn her and only the diehard loyalists would believe in the honesty of his grief.

Similarly now it would be impossible to replace the princess elect. Queen Camilla refused to accept this reality but her rejection could not exact change. If she was killed the rebels would be able to parade around their martyr and build exponentially more momentum for the coup that sought to overthrow their cruel, callous overlords. If she was discharged they would not be able to muffle or silence what she could reveal to New Rome. Anyone Luke took next would be compared to Rhiane, the people would be reluctant to accept a replacement, those that had faith in the love story would be harder to persuade of its voracity, and those that thought it was a charade have more proof to drive them into the arms of the revolution.

The only way the throne could win was to use Rhiane as intended. So long as she was smiling, waving, pursuing her philanthropy goals, hanging off Luke's arm, and charming as she had been doing for a week, it would be detrimental to the civil war brewing. Were she to be stolen, kidnapped, or killed, it would benefit dissidents more than it could ever aid the rulers of the kingdom. That was why they were so desperate.

"Tell the doctor I'm fine with my sling," she breathed. It was not fear that prompted this implied refusal of medical intervention yet again- she felt guilty and diminished, unworthy of anything more than what was absolutely necessary by Luke's standards. His stubborn betrothed wanted to punish herself in the only way that was possible.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I'm sorry I sprang the will on you," Solae apologized as she took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Rene opened his mouth as if to protest the need for such to say such a thing but the marquise shook her head before any words left his lips. "We're a team so I should have at least warned you," she explained. "My cousins aren't bad people but I know that they have fundamental philosophical differences from me. They certainly aren't Syshin sympathizers. I know I can't control everything that happens but I want to at least try to leave the universe better than I entered it. I trust you more than either of them and... it's the least I can do if we aren't able to clear your name."

She leaned back in her chair and wrinkled her nose. "Not the best date conversation is it? I think we've been doing things a little backwards," the linguist laughed as she pulled her gaze away from Rene and back down to the menu in an attempt to not be thinking about him instead of food. As much as he had enjoyed seeing her in the dress he had selected, she had been similarly quite attracted to the vision of him in a finely tailored suit. "I hear that most couples have dates before they get engaged," she elaborated.

They made small talk until the waiter came back for their orders. Though they had quite a bit of privacy given the arrangement of the room, Solae was reluctant to discuss any sensitive matters when their server might be approaching and overhear a confidential topic. On New Concordia she had a very regimented diet meant to maximize nutrition with a low caloric intake. The death of her parents, being on the run, and being in disguise her a large amount of freedom over her meal. She didn't order any of the standard selection for ladies neurotic over their waistlines. The noblewoman requested a plate offering with prime cuts of meat, a vegetable side, a side that unabashedly had carbohydrates, and a desert for two.

Rene didn't comment or look surprised. Solae couldn't be sure if this was because he was comfortable with the choices she made, because he wanted her to eat more, because he knew as well as she this might be their last indulgence for some time, or if he simply didn't care about her preferences so long as they didn't make her sick. Their waiter couldn't hide his disbelief. He had spent years catering to wealthy members of both genders quizzing him about ways to trim down an entree to make it more 'healthy.' The paranoia about maintaining a physique was normal. He repeated Solae's order back to her twice as if certain he had gotten it wrong.

"Do I need to speak with the management?" the marquise finally snapped. She was putting on airs that were faithful to her attire: a cold indignation, a sharp tongue, and an expectation that anyone with her material means ought to be treated like royalty by establishments in the service industry. It was fine acting but she was also sincerely annoyed. The last thing Solae wanted was to have this nice time with Rene ruined because someone wanted to passively question and criticize the first time she ordered a meal she wanted to have rather than the one she ought to have out of societal obligation.

"I can take my business elsewhere," she threatened.

"My apologies, miss," the waiter capitulated before he had to explain to his employers why he had lost a customer. They would be shocked by the order as well, but so long as it made the aristocrat and her companion happy it wasn't worth jeopardizing business over. He bowed to emphasize his remorse and took Rene's order much more quickly, without any judgment, eager to get away from mistake. Ten would be displeased they had drawn attention to themselves, however minor, but it was almost a certainty that the desert would now be compensated.

"I don't envy you being a marine," Solae whispered once she was certain no one else was within earshot, "but I have to admit sometimes I get a little jealous that you're not obligated to follow the same absurd rules I'm supposed to even when we're not even being ourselves."

After a moment's thought she frowned to herself. "Maybe I should have requested two deserts. If I was going to be met with resistance no matter what I chose I should have been especially gluttonous." It was Solae's frustration speaking. The view was beautiful and the music carrying through the space pleasant but she couldn't pretend the enormity of their quest wasn't still weighing down upon her constantly. The only time she truly forgot about it was when Rene pulled her into his arms and they expressed their love physically in such intensity the world itself bled away. She yearned for the days when her largest source of stress was her unwed status.

The Betrothed

For many years Rhiane had been required to be strong. As Luke could almost certainly sympathize, had she ever brought up the topic with him and discussed it at length, being required to have emotional fortitude was a heavier burden than simply possessing it alone. An individual with aforementioned strength still had the freedom to have times of weakness without worrying about the devastating consequences about their lapses. They didn't have the pressure of supporting others indefinitely and maintaining a disposition without relief. As a child the princess elect had been opinionated, stubborn, and assertive, but the times she had come home crying when she was hurt, or when she had a fight with a friend, or been simply having a frustrating week that left her upset had not been earth-shattering. Violet Black, who laughed at her own married name, would hug her and sit with her on the front steps of their home while encouraging her to physically and figuratively lean on her. Gerard for all his faults would go out of his way to be nicer as well. Edwin would smile at her and kiss her forehead. Her father would tell her horrible jokes to try to make her laugh.

But those days were long gone. From the moment her mother fell ill Rhiane had become 'the strong one' out of necessity. Neither her father nor Gerard could handle tending to the sick and dying figures of the family matriarch and middle son. The former farmer had taken on more and more responsibilities. First she was a nurse cooking and cleaning for her patients, then an advocate trying to find a way for them to get life-saving medication, then their hospice that helped them to the bathroom, that sat by their beds watching them worsen, scrubbing away evidence of their failing bodies. Rhiane planned their burials, arranged for the simple headstones, and said a few words at the funeral because once again she was the only one that could bear it. When the farm started to fail she returned to staying up nights learning everything she could to take over management. She had confrontations with vendors and merchants, took control of very financial decision, and blazed the path back from the brink of bankruptcy, all while directing her father and eldest sibling and accommodating her needs.

It had been tiring but she did not resent them. Love had motivated her to participate in the contest for Luke's hand in marriage as it was the only way she could secure a future of stability for her remaining family. The tournament had demanded her strength to maintain her image, to succeed in the events, and to gain the favor and support of the public as well as the queen when she was victorious. She had not faltered. Rhiane had been proud of herself. Finally she could breathe a sigh of relief even if she had traded the yoke of the farm for that of being a princess elect, not having friends or confidants, not having any one that cared for her, with higher expectations, and everyone watching with baited breath for her to do anything wrong she could be severely punished for.

There was only so much anyone could take before breaking. Rhiane had to be strong so long that she had not felt the building tension as situations mounted growing tolls on her: the engagement ball's scandal with Sofia and twisted ankle, the pizza parlor's argument, the willful exposure to the cold on the private island, the device that kept her close to Luke, the poisoning, the implication she should make the prince follow the schedule, the feelings hidden in her chest, the sabotage and collision of their vehicle, and the ambush at the clinic. Watching the man die had been too much. The dead did not close their eyes as they shed their mortal coil. The lifeless stare of the would-be assassin as he fell to the floor had burned itself in her mind.

As Luke made his numerous phone calls she continued to gaze out with window without seeing the passing landscape. In her mind a film was playing in repeat without mercy. Two men rebels burst into the room, sneering and gloating, leveling their weapon at the couple as one of them advanced. A shot rang out as the younger of the two fell to the floor. Another took out the closer armed aggressor. There were sprays of blood from the high-velocity bullets striking their targets. Brain matter had splattered to one of the walls. Dark pools of dark red spread from the corpses. The silhouettes of Luke and Tobias faded from the recollections as she was left alone with the deceased, trapped, their presence haunting and torturing her in unspoken accusations. If Rhiane had never won the contest and ascended to her current position they would not have attacked, no one would have been in danger as she was their intended victim, and lives would not have met such a violent end.

The car rumbled to a rest and as Luke leaned across her to unfasten her seatbelt she belatedly realized they had traveled somewhere. Tobias had parked, shut off the engine, and made his way so quickly to her door that it stood out as strange past the fog of her detachment. Rhiane saw a pained expression erupt on Luke's face. It took her longer than it should have to process what had happened. The princess elect raised her hand and placed it on one of his shoulders briefly, an act of silent reassurance, before it limply fell back to her side.

"I'll take her inside, your highness," Tobias stated as he opened the door. Rhiane had visibly retreated back inside herself and did not respond to the offer. "The medical team is still en route but expected to arrive shortly. A room has been prepared in advance," he explained curtly. This was more for the benefit of his female charge than his cousin, but she did not acknowledge his presence, much less his words. The side of his mouth twitched slightly in concern and disappointment his efforts did not result in any change in Rhinae's affect.

Carefully and delicately Tobias scooped the princess elect up into his arms as he had done before, cradling her to his chest, before nodding to Luke politely. He was displaying proper etiquette but he was also a touch smug about this once not being compelled to give up a chance with Rhiane. The bodyguard may not be able to share a room with her, or wed her, but he still held hope things would change, and he savored each small win he had over the heir to the throne and his perceived indifference to his fiancee.

The villa was formally a part of a destination retreat for the wealthy nobility that wanted to 'escape' to an idyllic view of the mountains. Understandably the royals had commandeered the nicest and most lavish villa for their purposes and the company that owned it was compensated but not allowed on the premises for security reasons. The pair was escorted through the building, which was empty except for the arriving entourage, a single maid and a cook that had been cleared by the palace, to a sitting room. Furniture had been re-arranged, antique luxurious pieces strategically pushed towards the wall, and a single medical bed was now placed in the center. Two tables with plastic sheeting, meant to keep the surfaces sterile, were prepared for the supplies that were coming with the team that had been summoned to supplement the doctor.

"Your highness, I suggest that you are treated first," the doctor concluded. He knew Rhiane would be incredibly uncooperative, perhaps requiring sedation once again, and it was more effective to tackle the faster patient. There was also the slim chance that if the prince had his condition under control he might be able to prevent some of the hysterics and hostility that he had been unconscious for when the sling was first proposed.

Tobias started to lower Rhiane onto a nearby sofa. It didn't matter who went first; they still had to await the supplies and team en route that was at least another ten minutes away. Putting her somewhere comfortable seemed like the most kindness he could offer- and the best opportunity to keep her calm until the inevitable meltdown over the injections that would be forthcoming.

The Betrothed

Without Luke blocking his way Tobias quickly crossed the room and knelt down next to Rhiane. The princess elect had ceased screaming but now her voice had apparently left her completely which worried him exponentially more. He was not aware how obstinate and quick she was to argue with her fiance, talking perhaps to excess, but he knew her to be very sociable, eloquent, and gregarious, and seeing her reduced to staring blankly was more disconcerting than if she had continued to mindlessly shriek. In the past he had been chastised for his withdrawn stoic nature. It felt like karmic retribution that he would be so tortured by another silence's when he had been accused of doing the same to so many others.

"We need to leave," Tobias told her in a more gentle voice than he had ever used with anyone before. Rhiane failed to acknowledge she had heard him at all as her gaze remained fixated on the spot where he had dropped the first rebel. Experience taught him she was reliving it in repetition; her mind was not in the present. The royal bodyguard could not take back the shot, the scene of blood and death, or the trauma it had caused. In truth he would not even if it was a possibility. He had done his duty and executed a threat to both his cousin and the woman of which he was most fond, which ought to have given him a sense of pride, and yet he only felt remorse for the pain it had brought her.

Rhiane did not deserve this. He had joined the revolution in secret to try to prevent this wretched violence, to perpetuate a more peaceful transition of power, to save people from what he believed was the inherent cruelty of the current monarchy. To see his former compatriots make themselves into monsters no better than the queen's most fervent supporters sickened him. The ends did not justify the means. Sacrificing one innocent life would not make them more righteous, only stained and corrupted. Tobias sighed heavily. Carefully and cautiously he scooped Rhiane up into her arms.

"Doctor, bring me one of the blankets," he called out as he lifted his charge up from the floor. Her legs drooped over one arm while his other arm supported her shoulders. Tobias shifted her weight to distribute it as evenly as possible. While he could not deny he had hoped to one day cradle her in a warm embrace, this was not how he imagined her to be in his visions, injured and numb to the world, tormented by problems he could not solve. Rhiane's head rested against his chest as he carried her out into the medical room that was in disarray from the ambush.

"The car is just outside. Is there anything you have that might help?" the prince's cousin inquired.

The doctor shook his head as he bundled the blanket in his arms and followed Tobias out of the clinic. Truthfully he didn't want to be taken along in the envoy to wherever they might be headed, but he doubted Luke would heed his wishes, and only the royal could rescind the order. As the single village physician he had a duty to his assigned population- and if he left for any lengthy period of time there would be only two nurses left to tend to all the residents. "Let's get her in the car and then we can talk," he suggested.

They walked to the SUV that had been designated the transport vehicle for the prince and his princess elect. Given her left arm was broken they set her inside the right rear side of the car so that there were no concerns about her accidentally bumping the limb. The doctor secured her seat belt, draped over her blanket, and tried to help her make her as comfortable as he could without feedback from his patient. Rhiane slumped against the window and stared into the distance. The pair of men closed the doors to afford themselves a brief moment of privacy.

"Until you get her somewhere where there are better supplies available there isn't much I can do for her physically," the doctor told Tobias. "As far as her mental state... you are a man who has obviously seen situations like this unfold before. You likely know what to expect. She will simply need some time to digest. When she was found she was already sedated, and I had to sedate her again, but I still prescribe rest. I strongly recommend sleeping aids and someone in her room if possible to help ward off nightmares- enough interruptions during the night and it will be worse than if she stayed awake. I'm sure you have some female bodyguards that could be assigned accordingly. Keep her busy and distracted. I'm not a psychologist or a psychiatrist, but I can tell you that all the men and women I've seen go through this have an easier time if the have other things occupying their time."

"Is there something we should administer now?" Tobias asked with forced detachment.

"I'll get a couple things for the ride just in case," the doctor answered, "but I'd wait until you- well, we I suppose- arrive and it's necessary. I don't believe she'll remain this calm once there's a large needle being presented for injection into her arm," he deduced based on how emphatically she had been against every and any treatment option he provided, no matter how reasonable. Her fear and distrust of his profession might be the only thing, he wagered, that would throw her out of the prison her psyche was trapped in. With a respectful nod to Tobias, the doctor went back into his clinic to gather a few items while Luke finished his phone calls.

The Betrothed

Since their first fateful meeting Rhiane hadn't thought of Luke as someone she would label as tender. He was proud, arrogant, quick-witted, stubborn, condescending, confident, handsome, fearless, patient, intelligent, and thoughtful, but he did not let his emotions be swayed by softer things unless it was in face of his sister. The princess elect had come to care for him regardless, but she had dampened her expectations he would be gentle, and yet in the last few hours he had proved such attributes did make up his character, he just withheld them from most. The way he reciprocated her kiss was sweet. It spoke to her of silent vulnerability, of acceptance, of caring for her in a romantic way. It was true that he had been more compassionate in the face of her injuries and illness, but she still attributed that to being invested in his territory in a war. This kiss couldn't be interpreted any other way than what it was. Somewhere deep down the heir to the throne actually felt a hint of something for the lowly peasant farmer.

She hadn't noticed the way she melted into his arms until the sounds outside the bathroom jolted her out of her reverie. Rhiane had let her mind be pulled into the clouds but now she had been cruelly yanked back their present reality. Standing there stunned, trying still to grasp that people wanted her dead, she watched as Luke carried a stool towards the window commanding her. It was almost refreshing to see that streak of lording authority. Of course she had no intention in leaving fist and risk having him fall victim to the rebels when they breached through the door. Her tongue rose to the top of her mouth as she mentally prepared an argument for why the royal ought to go first as the future leader of the country.

They had run out of time.

Color bled out of her face as Rhiane was finally confronted with a man with a rifle that had burst through the door. It was somehow easier to dismiss the attempts on her life when she did not see the offender eyeing her like a prize trophy. As cavalier as she had been about death it had not pointing a weapon at her as it gloated over a surefire victory. She had frozen in place until Luke stepped between her and the criminal. Seeing him put himself in the line of fire was sufficient to incite her protective instincts. With her good hand she pulled on his arm, reaching for his shoulder, trying to coax him to stand to the side. While she did not want to die she wanted him to die even less. Rhiane had a passive sort of valor, the sort that would have made her a fine fireman had she the training, because her impulse was so strongly skewed to save another over herself.

With each step she knew they were doomed. There wasn't an escape. They were unarmed and wounded. She was about to make a desperate plea to let Luke be saved- even though there was no hope she could persuade the villain- and then a gunshot thundered on the edge of the room. Rhiane had never heard one fire before this close. It was deafening yet she didn't hear it crack the second time. Her gaze was fixated on the young man who had stared at her, blood erupting from the point of contact, his eyes glassy as his soul departed its mortal shell. Fortunately the one who had more directly taunted them had his back turned when he was struck down, though there was a fine mist of red that sprayed into the air.

Rhiane didn't hear herself scream as she shrank back in horror. Tobias had been looking down with grim determination, confirming his enemies were deceased, when the shrill sound rang through the air. Even Queen Camilla couldn't hold this against her. Soldiers trained for combat often had the same sort of visceral reaction when they say their first comrade collapse next to them or had the gravity of their first kill sink into their psyche. Everyone processed it in different ways but it was never easy except for psychopaths. None of the other candidates that had been selected for competition for Luke's hand in marriage could have endured the poisoning and been ready for travel the next day, persevered through a sabotaged vehicle collision and kept their wits about them while they tended to someone else's ailments, and then been unaffected by being confronted by assassins. That she had made it this far was miraculous.

"Nolan," Tobias called over his shoulder as he holstered his weapon. "See if anyone can find something for the princess elect. We need to get her calm enough to travel. We're not secure here even with the threat eliminated," he assessed before taking a step into the bathroom over the corpses. Luke was in his way but he regrettably had to wait for permission to pass. No matter how much his heart might yearn for the circumstances to be different, the terrified brunette crouching down behind the prince his his fiancee, not Tobias's.

The Betrothed

When Luke first circled around Rhiane and warned her to not even think about opening the door for the people calling to her from the other side she had stared at him in open defiance. Earlier in the SUV she had implicitly trusted him because he had proven himself to care about her health- from carrying her upon their exit from the pizzeria when it was evident her ankle was stiff, to bundling her when the frigid air of his remote island made her fingers frozen, to staying by her side in the royal clinic when she was so weak and ill she had been a thoroughly unappealing sight. But the crown prince had shown himself to not have the same care and consideration towards her mental or emotional state. In that pivotal moment when she was being serenaded by promises of a reprieve from the constant criticism of the palace she thought he was stubbornly denying her escape because he enjoyed having her as a novel toy to lord over.

That he didn't want her to go was perplexing, aggravating, and so contrary to their history together she had frowned at him in exasperation. From the moment they met he had made it clear the the engagement was a machination of his mother that he despised with every fiber of his being. It had been similarly transparent when they had spells of privacy that she lacked the traits he might want or expect in a fiance; if she had any doubt, the jarring differences between herself and Sofia drove home he'd be eager to replace her. Going with the rebels on its face seemed to solve their conjoined problems. Luke would be free to find a compliant admirer who would swoon at his wealth, prestige, and physical attributes, and would not mind being second in his heart to the actress across the ocean. The resistance could potentially give her family financial security or shelter, rid her of the conflict in having unrequited feelings, and rescue her from the deep-seated fear she had of romantic affection.

She was numb at the declaration she, the interloper to the royal family that had no influence over any policy, had been the target of the attacks. Her eyes went wide and she had kept her feet planted not because she meant to create another obstacle, but because she was struggling to process that anyone wanted her dead, much less the people she was trying so ardently to represent. Rhiane stumbled as he pulled her along, oblivious to the chair scraping along the floor or the thudding that shook the door on its hinges, her mind whirling over the revelation. She desperately wanted it to not be true but she did not think that Luke was deceiving her. There was sincerity in his words and actions. The princess elect didn't have the luxury of piecing together the puzzle but she could understand why her bodyguards had multiplied, why her food had nearly murdered her at EvoLab while no one else was affected, why no one had been fretting over the heir to the throne and instead watched her with careful concern.

"No, no, no," Rhiane whispered before he covered her mouth with his hand. The hostility she had been clinging onto, so as not to fall into despair over her situation, had melted away. Her protests were not at Luke's clever strategy to elude the assassins but at a world in which she had been reduced to such a pitiable pawn. Outside the bathroom there were the hurried movements of armed people rushing to follow the false trail. She inhaled sharply to try to keep tears from falling at being called a bitch and her survival cursed. This was not what she had anticipated when she had entered the contest to become the temporary spouse to the monarchy's most eligible bachelor. The farmer had known that the aristocracy would hate her, that the queen would treat her as an employee whose livelihood depended on performance, but she had honestly thought the service she could bring to the public would earn her their gratitude and praise. These rebels were not necessarily symbolic of the masses- she didn't think that her fans were faked or she would have been dismissed by Queen Camilla already for her failure- but that she had failed them stung.

She slumped against the wall she had been pressed against. Luke was doing his best to be a proverbial knight in shining armor but wasn't enamored with his efforts. He was at war against the coup- of course he'd do his best to keep her out of their grasp. What mattered to him, she presumed, was victory against his enemies, keeping their prize out of reach, and securing his succession so that one day he might be a king whose reign was long and revered. Rhiane was taller than most of her female counterparts but she felt small. It was as if she had been reduced to a powerful weapon that both sides of a disagreement coveted.

The space was horribly cramped. Rhiane started past his shoulder, lost in her thoughts, when he leaned forward and began to whisper in her ear. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine and she fidgeted with an impulse to distance herself lest she be drawn further into wanting the man that couldn't possibly love her. And it was then, in the darkness, he confessed that the kiss had not been mediocre and he didn't want her to attend the meeting with the farmers with Tobias. There was an implication of jealousy, of possessiveness, but Rhiane was reluctant to believe that the man of highest birth in all the nation would stoop so low as to want a peasant. It was unthinkable. It was taboo despite their engagement and impending marriage. This was supposed to be an arrangement of convenience.

Luke removed his hand and she, not thinking of the consequences, leaned forward and pressed her lips against his in reply. No one had to know what transpired in the bathroom where they were both vulnerable. Rhiane didn't think anything good could come out of her indulgence- she'd just yearn for more until they were twisted in the sheets and making a mess of every aspect of their lives- but this kiss could give her some reassurance that she was not alone for the few minutes they were in hiding. It could impart on her the strength she so sorely needed before she was forced to acknowledge that her destiny was a tragedy.

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.