Syrenrei

The Betrothed

"You delight in contradictions, don't you?" she sighed as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You want me to wear this thing for my safety, in case there is an emergency, but then want to have me sequestered at the palace? I should also point out that you've explicitly stated there are enemies at the very same castle where you're insisting I remain. Either I should wear it because I will be traveling and it will help my security detail ensure I can be located at all times or I will not need to wear it because I'll be confined to a singular building. It'd be silly to do both," she protested. To him it was an accessory that he could not live without. The former farmer had no such attachment to the technological marvel. Additionally, Rhiane expected to be shuttled between tutors or ordered to her rooms when the staff was done with her for the day. What recreational time she would have would be minimal, privacy would be nearly non-existent, and she didn't imagine that she'd feel compelled to interrupt her fiance's business meetings with trivial conversation.

Luke continued to confuse her. To the kingdom her importance was inextricably linked to how many events she attended, how many people she charmed with her overflowing charisma, how many broken fences she mended with her presence and fairy tale romance. To stop performing felt like an invitation to a premature death. Doubt could seep into their queen's mind as she contemplated whether or not the commoner was worth the continued investment. In a cage she would be protected but worthless to the throne. It almost seemed as if her betrothed had a personal stake in her health, yet he had avoided any amorous confession or baubles to prove his affections. This would haunt him in the approaching introduction to her family.

The brunette leaned her head against the window and stared out at the rolling hills below. It was late in the season but the familiar scenery was captivating regardless. She had never had an aerial view of her home town, or been near the landing strip that the royal aircraft was using, but she could still spot landmarks that evoked feelings she had hoped to bury when she left. It was strange to be gazing at a place that felt simultaneously like the beloved home she had known all her life and a place foreign to her now that she had become a princess elect. Fields ripe for harvest littered the landscape as laborers too busy to greet their returning hero toiled in an effort to make the most of the time they had before winter had fully arrived. All of it was beautiful to her, but she was reluctant to find spots for the public relations crew, reporters, and broadcasters to visit, as she was apprehensive about whether or not they could appreciate it as she did, and if Luke would grit his teeth at the pervasive reminder of her past.

"Let's wait to see what Sebastian has to say," Rhiane suggested as a compromise. "We're adding this to the schedule to seek out his insight anyway, so we might as well have his opinion before you tell the witch about your intentions to cut my trip short. He's always been honest with me even when he knows the truth is not what I want to hear. If he tells me that, based on what he knows, I ought to stay hidden away in the castle while you're abroad, I won't fight his advice." She hated the very prospect every growing second. It would be excessively boring and lonely to spend her waking hours being educated into how to be a proper lady- when this very assimilation would erode how warmly the public received her. Theoretically it was possible to be palatable to the upper class while maintaining the appeal she had as a woman with humble roots. Unfortunately, she did not trust the monarchy to know how to tread this line, as historically the popularity of prince and princess elects went into free fall once they were viewed as having abandoned their origins in favor of wealth and prestige. It was possible to be too aristocrat for peasants, and too peasant for aristocrats.

"Don't you dare doubt I'd flirt with her while you're out of the country in desperation to continue the tour. I would wager Anelle is more palatable when she doesn't have you in sight," she commented in a tone that made it clear it was a strategy she'd seriously consider. "I do worry for when you're gone," the princess elect lamented with a mischievous voice. Thus far they had been conversing in hushed tones and whispers to keep their discussions private, but she leaned in far enough that the guards- who could not hear them but certainly weren't blind to the gesture- found it impossible to ignore. "I have certain needs I won't be having met," Rhiane playfully bemoaned. "Doesn't that worry you?" she teased. Lia and Octavia were trying to abstain from gawking, but Tobias looked over with a quietly disapproving expression. He didn't need to hear to know that there was flirting taking place.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"The important thing is to know what happened to Free Trader Corsica would not happen to us," Solae said, feeling that it was imperative to reassure their new companions of the differences between the Bonaventure and other standard, less fortunate, freighters. "Their vessel almost certainly has a computer that can handle basic tasks such as maintaining an orbit or keeping a beacon on looped broadcast, but it does not have Mia, who is a top of the line AI that is able to adapt to her circumstances and postulate on possible solutions without our input. If all of us were rendered unconscious, like Corsica's crew decades ago, she would have considerably more resources at her disposal. We are quite lucky to have her with us," she mused quietly as she stared out the large window towards the distant gas giant in question. All of her and Rene's genetically enhanced intelligence still paled in comparison to their synthetic assistant. Perhaps they were more innovative, and could understand social cues better than a machine would, but Mia was able to run multiple programs at once, process the outcomes for exponentially more scenarios in seconds, and infallibly analyze facts that were absent a human component.

"Then why do we need a pilot?" Rosaria asked, her tone curious rather than condescending.

"Lady Solae has superior finesse," Mia purred with implicit sultry approval. "She is able to perform more delicate functions in extreme conditions, as evidenced by landing the Bonventure during a hurricane."

The memory brought a sour expression to the duchess's features. To Rene it was perhaps a moment to be celebrated, as it proved that the noblewoman had unique skill to be envied, but it had been an experience that robbed her of the delight she might have had otherwise in controlling a vehicle that glided effortlessly through the cosmos. Nothing could erase the frustration, the terror, the unbridled anger she felt at having her first time at the helm be under duress and by figurative force. She steered because she was the only one that could, with death as the alternative, but she could not in good conscience say it was slightly enjoyable. It couldn't be. With the splendor ripped away she regarded it as a duty and obligation, with as much enthusiasm as her soldier paramour probably felt when he was strategizing the best approach to a hostile encounter destined to result in combat.

Her truest passion was diplomacy. It was their destination she yearned for more than anything. Solae's heart swelled when she thought of how much she wanted to understand- their language, their customs, their politics, their economy, their religion, social structure, their hopes and dreams, their greatest fears- that was what she treasured. Diversity was enthralling to the aristocrat. Most of her peers sought to subjugate and assimilate everyone into the woven fabric of humanity, to homogenize a universe, but she adored the differences that colored each galaxy uniquely. She would shake every outstretched hand and raise any and all children she had the pleasure of bearing to do the same.

"Dasin, Yarue, would either of you be willing to each me a Syshin dish, provided we have the ingredients?" she asked as she rose from her chair. This was not meant as an exercise in bringing together the five beings through food. Solae selfishly wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to explore the Syshin culinary world. They were not yet in Kaldorei territory, but it was not the exclusive source of new experiences, and she was anxious to make friends with the members of a race she had spent far more time studying than she was willing to divulge.

"I will join you," Dasin readily agreed. "My father taught many years ago," he added. It was a touch surprising. Of the pair of Syshin, he struck her as the one with a more aggressive personality, one she would ascribe being a brave warrior Inyorin. When one assumed the role of Inyorin they were typically relieved of some domestic duties to devote their time to training their body, both strength and reflexes. It was possible he was enslaved in his youth and prevented from being old enough to become one, however.

"Thank you," Solae said as she flashed a smile and gestured for him to lead the way to the kitchen.

"We studied your knowledge last night," Dasin stated once they had entered the small galley. There was barely room for the two of them to move around comfortably without bumping into each other. Once they were alone he spoke in Syshi for ease. His voice was a smooth baritone but had more of a nasal pitch than the deeper resonance of Yarue. "The thing they call you- 'DU-CHESSSS,'" he tried to enunciate properly without hissing, "means your rank is just below the empress. Does the device speak the truth?" As he posed his question he dug through the produce that had been packaged by Ten and quickly took a visual inventory.

"That's true," she conceded, "It's a loftier position than I expected or wanted if I must be honest. Why do you ask?"

"Does that mean the empress will listen to you more than others like the mistress we left?" he inquired. Now she understood his aim. He was trying to deduce what sort of power she held and if she could bend the ear of the leader of the Stellar Empire to her cause. There were complexities to the government she did not know how to articulate, ones beyond any comparisons she could make to the Syshin, and so she fell silent as she pondered the best manner of explaining. It was good practice for when the Kaldorei dignitaries she would encounter.

"A citizen of the empire is unlikely to speak with the empress during their lifetime, because there are so many of them, and she is not endless. Even with twin leaders, they'd be unable to know everyone of your community if it stretched beyond the horizon, yes? Dukes and duchesses are bound to service, to represent the people to the empress, and represent the empress to the people. They take the most crucial topics before her and try to handle the rest themselves," she elaborated as he handed her some starch vegetables to peel. "Yes, I believe she will listen to me more than your prior mistress, but I must prove my loyalty and worthiness, just as an Inyorin must prove he will fulfill his oaths," Solae said with a smile.

"I understand this struggle," Dasin acknowledged with a grim expression. "We will make a baked dish of the Syshin, one that gives energy for the entire day for those that walk the plains and wander through the forests," he declared.

"Mia, take notes of his directions for me, please," the linguist requested before they set to work.

The Betrothed

"I'm glad to know we don't have different standards of behavior for our staff," Rhiane remarked dryly. While on some level she did appreciate the possessive jealousy that Luke exhibited, as it was the most compelling evidence she had he might be developing feelings for her, his hypocrisy was frustrating. He expected her to act with professional detachment even when another woman showed intimate interest in her betrothed, yet he could not or would not do the same, and was even more extreme in his selfishness. Idly she pondered what the crown prince might do if there was another adversary he might contend with. Their visit to her home town might bring quite the revelation. She had been approached by many suitors prior to entering the contest and while she did not expect them to extend proposals of engagement, she doubted that the perceptive royal would fail to notice the way some of them looked upon her.

"I've never been with a woman," she remarked airily. The princess elect had no actual interest in her own sex. All indulgences of her more vulgar desires had proved that the male form was intoxicating to her, but there was nothing about her own body or another female that was enticing. Luke need not know that. Tobias was obviously a sore subject. Instead of revisiting the paranoia he had about his cousin she instead wondered if the heir to the throne was opposed to her having any dalliance whatsoever. He had implied any male guard that looked at her with ill intentions was en enemy in his eyes. Perhaps this was only because he perceived heterosexual men as the only threat. "You did say I should give Anelle a chance. I could flirt with her as she does with you," she suggested.

The brunette was well aware that the noblewoman was as disgusted as the rest of her peers by the farmer's presence. What she was less convinced of, however, was whether or not the Image Manager would set aside her prejudices to manipulate Luke. Anelle might be willing to retaliate against the man who spurned her by trying to steal his 'prize' if the opportunity arose. She may also be determined enough to try to make him feel the same indignant anger she felt when a peasant was chosen over someone of higher stature. More importantly, Rhiane was keen to know if the very notion would make her lover vibrate with envious fury. No one had seriously risked replacing the handsome and arrogant royal in his fiancee's eyes- not yet anyway.

"I really hope you're prepared for my father and Gerard. I doubt that Sebastian will say anything offensive, but the two of them..." she sighed. Time with Luke had proved to her that he was not incredibly sheltered. Despite his reassurances, and his stubborn insistence that a visit was necessary, they were an unusually formidable force. They would not be moved to obeyed social norms and etiquette. Words would not be polite, accusations would be lobbed like grenades, and false platitudes would be mocked openly. Both were ill-tempered, but while her father had a soft heart, her brother was a shrewd and critical judge of character that seldom accepted any into his good graces. When her mother had died there was a mutual understanding that to allow Gerard to negotiate contracts would result in the utter destruction of all their business arrangements.

"I appreciate the offer," she added sincerely, dropping her voice when the door opened, "but I don't want to shave off any stops on the tour. It's important that we prove ourselves to be people who adhere to all our responsibilities and obligations, isn't it? If you have work to handle then I can attend the events that are less crucial so you can attend necessary meetings," Rhiane offered generously. "Besides, I've never traveled before. This is my first trip outside of my town and the palace," she reminded him, "and might be the only one I'll have besides the honeymoon. Whether or not your mother endorses me taking more hinges on my performance in the coming weeks." The only way she could imagine herself wanting to reduce their grand tour is if their lives were in constant, imminent danger. Queen Camilla might demand they return to the castle if the recent infatuation between the couple resulted in an unplanned and unexpected pregnancy, as that might compel them to accelerate the wedding date accordingly.

"Is it really that important to you?" she asked with a slight frown at the device. The older model she had on the farm was used sparingly. There weren't many people she had a need to speak with that weren't nearby and, when she did want to hold a conversation, she preferred to hold it over a pint of beer or while watching the sun dip over the horizon. More than once she had lost hers on the field, or in the kitchen while cooking, or even in a pile of clothes that needed to be washed. She was less reliant on it than the average person by her own admission. If it wasn't time to reconcile their profit and expenditures, or send a missive to a merchant, then she found a reason to set it down somewhere and leave it behind.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Before Mia was installed on the Bonaventure, she oversaw a nobleman acquaintance's home, and should still have a wealth of information available on the sociopolitical hierarchy of the Stellar Empire's aristocracy. You can query her on what a handmaiden is and make a decision for yourself," Solae said encouragingly. She personally thought it was the best idea given Rosaria's predilections and training through Thorne. The youth had been groomed to be shrewd, cunning, and perceptive. This was a potentially deadly combination should their youngest companion betray them, but it made her especially suited for anything remotely related to espionage, and could be the difference between fading to obscurity or rising to the upper echelons of the elite. Upon further consideration, the duchess had to admit internally that the way the girl had been raised to be cutthroat was not unlike a few esteemed prestigious families on Capella.

"While we're on the topic of advantages, I think Rene and Rosaria should endeavor to learn some Syshi. It could be useful for all of us to be able to converse in a language that is not the common tongue. We'll be able to have more covert discussions, will help prove ourselves as pioneers of inter-species relationships, and make it easier on me if I'm not always bridging the gap of misunderstandings. When our muscles are tired we can stretch our minds," she proposed.

Rosaria was less than thrilled about this prospect. While she was eager to learn, and having a 'secret' language most humans didn't speak was appealing, it was still not her first choice. There was a negative stigma associated with the Syshin race. She hid her frown well but her body posture was reflective of her lack of enthusiasm. "Just Syshi?" she ventured.

"It won't be easy to master," Solae forewarned diplomatically. "Yarue and Dasin have had years and near-total immersion to become bilingual," she continued, "I can understand that hearing me speak Syshi, and the two of them speak Imperial common, can give the impression it will be a simple matter that will only take you a week. That is not the case. If you are truly dedicated, and can become fully articulate in Syshi, then I will be happy to teach you another language. Trust me when I say, though," she leaned forward with a smile that made her eyes sparkle with mischief, "some of my colleagues at the embassy called me mad for taking on so many languages."

"You knew the most?" Rosaria asked intrigued. The two Syshin looked up with a shared curiosity. What drove their so-called benefactors interested them more than they admitted aloud. Once they understood all of Solae and Rene's motivations it would be easier for them to solidify how much time and energy they would be willing to commit to their causes.

"A true lady doesn't reveal how many languages she speaks," she replied with a wink before sitting back in her chair with a pensive expression. "That might be a tactic to employ with Yarue and Dasin, if you two are agreeable. It shouldn't be necessary with the Kaldorei, but when we are with those we don't trust, I could converse with you exclusively in Syshi. It would leave others to believe that you do not speak common and they might incidentally reveal things through their words that they would not otherwise. Again, it is your choice," she emphasized. "It would give us something of a potential advantage, but I do not wish to make you feel uncomfortable if you feel it is deception by omission."

"We have much to think about," Yarue said in a solemn tone. It was overwhelming for the Syshin; to have nearly unlimited access to a vast array of information, equal treatment by their new employers/hosts, consideration for their emotions, respect for their desires, and an adventure to a distant part of the galaxy even humanity had not dared to approach. "May we retire, mistress?"

"Of course, you need not ask my permission. Let Mia know if you need anything. The cargo is also for all of us to share if you are too cold, and the galley is open to you if you are thirsty in the middle of the night. I realize that that my title makes this a little awkward, but when we are traveling like this there is no need to be formal," she smiled. "I'll clean up," Solae announced firmly with no room for argument for an objection to her handling the chore.

Dasin and Yarue took their leave first, chatting excitedly in whispers about the secrets they might uncover on their devices. The duchess found it refreshing to see Yarue, who had been so melancholic and despondent in his pictures for Thorne's services, invigorated with hope. Rosaria more reluctantly went to her room, but even she seemed jubilant at not having a sense of ownership and privacy that had never been afforded to her before. Rene lingered behind, and almost voiced an argument for him assisting her at the very least, but the way she instructed him to lay down and wait for her made it clear she wanted him to save his strength.

It had been a long day. When they had departed Zatis it was after sunset and well into the evening hours. Despite the late hour, Rene's healing injury, and the ugly bruise on Solae's thigh, the former marquise elected to abuse the privilege of soundproofed captain's quarters. Once again they had emerged victorious. Once again they had survived circumstances that ought to have resulted in their death. She would not lose her opportunity to celebrate their promotions, the success at the embassy, or what precious fact they were alive. It was not until Rene was unable to continue any longer that she released him from what she called 'his duties as an official fiance' that night.

The Betrothed

In the past they had argued and then gone their separate ways without resolution for a variety of reasons, the most prominent of which was their incompatible world views. Because they could not agree on the facts of reality- such as whether or not Tobias held affections for the princess elect or if the working class was plagued by ignorance and laziness- that it made coming to an understanding impossible. Culminating frustrations, stubbornness, and pride kept them apart. Rhiane felt that she made too many concessions already to consider more compromises. Luke, who was a crown prince and future king, likely felt he ought not to have to bicker incessantly with a woman who held no real power. It was surprising to the former farmer, then, that he chose this moment to force more discussion than simmer in discontentment.

Had the door not been locked, Tobias might have stepped through and pull his charge to the safety of her seat. Instead she was pulled by her wrist back into the suite. Once her arm was released from Luke's grasp she stepped backwards and rubbed the spot absently as she glared resolutely at the heir to the throne. Each utterance earned him only more contempt. The chastisement did nothing to convince her that she ought to heed her advice; the insults only fanned the flames of her anger. Rhiane still had doubts about his feelings. Her fear that her growing attachment was one-sided made her hyper-defensive on the subject of Anelle. Anything short of a complete and direct condemnation of her actions made the brunette paranoid he was protecting the redhead, that he was not as finished with her has he claimed, that the Image Manger held his favor instead of her. Never had she been more insecure and jealous. For someone new to romantic relationships and unconcerned about material wealth, this was entirely new.

"I refuse to accept sole responsibility for what happened with Luce," she countered. "Your mother probably replaced her for multiple missteps, not just one. You weren't especially cooperative with her either," Rhiane recalled, alluding to the many times Luke had been dismissive of her guidance, or balked at a suggestion. Regardless of her words, it still weighed on her conscience to know that she might have ruined someone with her actions. The princess elect did not regret. No one instance stood out to her as unjustified behavior, but she disliked that it had come to this, that there was no one that could be appointed to oversee them that would treat her with the respect she deserved. An advisor that didn't look upon her like a ill-bred child was as high as her hopes dared to be.

"And I don't know what you mean by picking Tobias over you. He's just a friend, Luke, the only one I have besides your sister, whom I rarely get to see. The reason I spent so much time talking to him is... he doesn't look down upon me, like I'm stupid or dirty because I wasn't born to rich parents. He listens to me, asks my opinion, makes an occasional joke when everyone else would rather ignore me or stick to their own social stratosphere. The public might love me but I know that not a tear would be shed by any of the staff if I was dropped out of the plane right now," she remarked in a somber, thoughtful tone. It was purely platonic. Her voice didn't betray any hidden affections, but sounded as if she were talking fondly of a close confident, a brother, or someone like Sebastian in whom she could speak freely without risk of rejection.

The true tragedy was that in another situation the passive presence of Tobias would have gone wholly unnoticed. He did not seek Rhiane out openly. It was the quiet shunning within the castle and aristocracy, the insincere flattery, the polite conversation only when required, and the guarding without caring that created a void. A prince elect or princess elect was left standing on the figurative dance floor while clusters of people networked around them, never interacting of their own volition, never accepting. This is what made Luke's cousin so significant. He alone dared to be in close proximity to the lonely figure. Had she garnered honest admirers during the engagement ball then Tobias would have been lost in the crowd. The queen and her faithful, entitled loyalists unknowingly had pressed their precious pawn closer and closer to the open arms of a rebel with ulterior motives.

"Do you promise?" she asked as she let his hands grace her shoulders. Apprehension danced in her eyes. "If it's important to you then I'll make the list, but I want you to review the locations before it's handed over to the witch. If you promise me there isn't anything between you, I'll believe you, but I'm not going to hold myself back if she interrupts us at the wrong moment," she sulked somewhat petulantly. He'd have a harder time persuading her otherwise given the previous morning he had let Tobias see them in a compromising position on purpose.

"A tour of my hometown wasn't part of the plan. This is hard for me," she elaborated, "because some places were my secret sanctuaries, like your island, and some are sites of painful memories. Going on tours and luncheons was what I anticipated when I took the job, not something this personal, and if the same were asked of you while Tobias stroked my arm and invited me on a date, I think you'd have reacted negatively as well. I meant what I said... feelings matter. If you want me to do something, I'll look at it differently than if it comes from your mother, or Anelle, or a request from our security detail."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I should warn you that what little I've seen of slaver records," Solae began slowly, "and that was only right before we took this ship," she clarified quickly, "will not have any recognizable names. They might have a physical description and age, but they might also just have a listing of genders." While she had no objection to him reviewing what information was still stored on the ship, she felt it only prudent to prepare him for how impersonal they would be, and how the data could be frustratingly insufficient. It was not all that different from the distant past when humanity had enslaved subsets of its population for being the wrong political affiliation, the wrong religion, the wrong race, the wrong anything they could arbitrarily decide made one superior to the next. The Stellar Empire liked to believe it had moved on, but evidence pointed to it only repeating itself with the excuse that the Syshin were aliens and thus less entitled to the same liberties.

"I still want to see them," Yarue insisted.

"Mia, can you please make any records the Bonaventure has from the previous owners and their business transactions available? Translate them into Syshi as well so our new friends can read it more easily," she ordered to the AI that was present all around them and constantly eavesdropping.

"Understood, Lady Solae. The crew quarters you have elected do not have a sufficient apparatus for viewing. May I recommend that I make the records available on a handheld device?" she cooed with such blatant sensual favoritism that Rosaria looked instinctively to Rene for a reaction. He just shrugged his shoulders. The couple had grown used to Mia's peculiarities- and it was not as if the sentient machine could actually seduce the duchess. Even if she would, she was an overly emphatic fan of the romance she had witnessed in her vessel.

"Thank you, Mia," Solae nodded as she dug around the cargo hold for a device. She handed one over to Yarue before offering another one to Dasin. Both nodded to her in gratitude reflexively. "May I suggest we save that for after dinner? If you have any trouble with figuring out how to use the device, just call out for Mia no matter where you are and she will assist you."

"Can I have one as well?" Rosaria asked eagerly. What education she had was limited what Thorne specifically approved and was readily available on Zatis. The simple devices that Rene and Solae had used throughout their childhood and adult lives was a foreign freedom, with an exciting amount of forbidden knowledge, that was too tempting to ignore. "Will it tell me about other planets? Or about the empire?" she asked. Thorne had very little respect for the empress, her laws, or the politics that did not affect her business. There was a wealth of questions she wanted answers.

"Of course. Mia will only prohibit you from viewing my and Rene's personal data or making administrative decisions. You won't be able to command the ship, for example, or turn off any of the central controls accidentally. Her programming does have some restrictions that require the authority of the primary owner and user- in this case myself- so if there are any issues or conflicts she will page me for my consent," she explained. It was the nicest way of alerting them that a mutiny was impossible. Solae would not have allowed them aboard if she did not trust all three of them, but the safeguards were in place for a reason, and she did not discount the possibility that all these brave new paths they were blazing might be too much for a person to bear.

"Rene and I went to Amber Horizons," she added more conversationally. "Nari and Enro are the elders there. I do not know how long ago you were on New Concordia, or if you are familiar with that settlement, but they were very kind to us."

"Is that where you learned Syshi?" ventured Dasin. Out of the corner of her eye Solae could see Yarue's shoulders relax. Obviously the drop of two names and ordinary individual would not know was sufficient in proving once more that the noblewoman and solider were honest in their proclaimed allegiance.

"No, I learned it long before. I worked in the embassy as a diplomat with a specialization in linguistics," she smiled with a reminiscent fondness. "There was not any language spoken in which I didn't wish to be fluent. It seemed especially ridiculous to me that there was one spoken so frequently on at least half of the planets in the empire that my peers didn't care to master. It's been a very rewarding experience," the duchess confessed, "because in learning a tongue you learn much about a culture."

"Where are you embassy friends?" Dasin asked. "Why are they not here as well?"

"They were all killed by Duke Tan- or the former duke, since he stylizes himself as an emperor now and the empress has stripped him of his title and bestowed it upon me. They used artillery on the building. I was... the only survivor, and only by accident."

This somber admission made the curious Syshin fall quiet out of respect. Even Rosaria was slightly shaken by the prospect of an adversary that so coldly destroyed what was alluded to as a government structure filled with living, breathing human beings. It took a certain amount of callous malevolence to so easily spill that much blood. Even Thorne would have paused before unleashing that amount of violent. To call it a coup felt like too kind and generous a label.

The Betrothed

His offer was generous yet still missed its mark on Rhiane. The former farmer remained unconvinced that she wanted to elude the grim fate of her predecessors. Gerard, Sebastian, and her father would be all too eager to secure a future wherein she might live to see old age, but the prospect had little appeal to her personally. She wanted to die. It sounded selfish and morbid, but she did not have the hopes of others, and everything before her seemed too bleak to contemplate enduring. What Luke proposed was a world in which she buried her father, watched her brother and his one true love spend an eternity in bliss, while she herself knew she could never have such a blessing, and perhaps buried them as well since they were older. Any children she bore would be raised in a palace beyond her reach, by a team of nannies, groomed and taught to be proper aristocrats that disparaged commoners, ignoring and denying the origins of one of their parents. She would be alone without a purpose. The crown would not suffer itself to let her ambitions reflect on its negatively no matter who sat on the throne. It was be an agony of decades waiting for a crippling, debilitating illness to make her suffer as it had her mother.

"I'm not questioning your ability to make it possible," Rhiane said as she glanced towards the small black box abandoned nearby. She was not reflecting upon its contents so much as fixating on something other than his face. The princess elect had clung to and fought for her life when she was poisoned, had been terrified and deeply traumatized when a weapon was aimed at her heart, but only because she was not ready yet for death. More had to be done to secure the financial assistance for her family. Luke needed a successful boost to his image, a marriage, and heirs. "I'm asking you not to make that sort of promise," she added more softly, "because I don't want live past my usefulness." Although she tried to hide the pain in her eyes, the damaged soul that willingly embraced her own murder, it was plain enough to see if he looked hard enough.

Surprisingly she had no comment about the resistance's rifles. There was, however, a distinct lack of surprise on her features that was somewhat telling. She had gleamed that the commoners were not alone in their frustrations. When sympathizers and members of the movement had struck up a conversation with her in a bar, or knocked on her door to entreat her to join them, there had been vague allusions to support beyond the lower class. At the time she had not cared if this was fact or fiction. She simply did not have the time, energy, nor conviction to do anything except keep her business intact and food on the table. It did not surprise her that there was spies inside the capitol. The royalty was not as far removed from seeds of discontent as they imagined. Not every noble had a lineage and web of friends, allies, and relatives completely estranged from those who tried without success to scale the class ladder. A maid might be bitter she'd never gain the title of duchess. A bodyguard might be furious his cousins were laid off by a company who made a CEO in title only wealthier by the day. A steward might lament he'd never have the station to gain the favor of the upper echelons.

"I'm not acting like a child," she protested while not accepting the proffered hand. "I think I've proven that, despite any misgivings I have or the obstacles in my path, I continued to meet expectations and perform my duties," Rhiane argued, referencing the events that would have made a weaker-willed individual abandon his side or refuse to be seen in public, much less speak so eloquently. She had confidence she had remained charming. Even when she refused to attend the luncheon she had been reaping positive attention in visiting village shops. "A child would throw a tantrum and refuse to keep doing this publicity stunt- I'm not doing that. Anelle or Luce, it makes no difference, I'll be the charismatic fiancee everyone needs me to be. As an adult I'm saying this is where I draw the line. Don't patronize me by telling me to 'suck it up.' You're all but saying you've no intention to chastise her, or ask her to change in any way, you just want me to what- stand by idly like an idiot? Let her petty little jab be indulged, while I am not allowed to even be angry, and instead have to bend and yield to the very hand that slaps me? Absolutely not. Let her complain to your mother that I became petulant that she was trying to bed you right in front of my eyes."

Stepping to the side she rose to her feet. "How you feel does matter, Luke, it always has. Don't you realize that is what this entire tour is about? The people- your people- are clamoring for any sign of how you feel, how the future leader of their nation feels, if he feels empathy and understands them. What does he love? What hobbies, what colors, what people, what things? Does he get angry or sad like they do? The world cares more about how you feel than it cares about how I feel. They love me only because I am the next best thing when you refuse them admittance," she added a little more solemnly. What was also tragic was that she was not convinced that everyone played by the same rules he did. All around him people shirked responsibility and obligation because of feelings of greed, avarice, fear, arrogance, and used their power to fulfill whims based on anger, lust, or bias.

"It's clear to me that what Anelle wants is you," she raised a brow. "I'm sure you can work out what might make her jealous. No one likes being confronted with a person they disdain reaping their 'reward.' If we make her jealous, or she stops trying to seduce you under my nose, then I give you my word I'll work with her." With a turn she moved towards the door and placed her hand on the handle. Rhiane paused briefly.

"And for the record, I'll always care much more about your feelings than what purpose you serve. Always." Without wanting to appear weak she whisked out the door, embarrassed by her own admission, and how foolish it would seem to someone as lofty and distant as the man who would be king.

The Betrothed

Truthfully, Rhiane didn't know what to make of Luke's promise to not endanger the Black family, nor by his comment that the queen did not need to know about this 'project.' He was being strangely considerate and accommodating. Of course she knew he could be, as she had glimpsed his compassion and wit on more than one occasion, but he was more invested in convincing Sebastian than she had expected. Perhaps one could attribute this to his stubborn determination to win every battle, and thus he was willing to make sacrifices to gain an advantage against the rebellion, but that did not necessitate creating a private encrypted line for her and Sebastian, nor keeping this secret from his mother. The crown prince had struck her as a man who stood alone and apart, creating allies but not friends, who preferred to use threats over bribes. When she had suggested he be careful with Sebastian she didn't think he'd heed her advice and would try to coerce him regardless; that he did not, that he would do so much to ensure good relations, made her wonder.

"A way for me to get out of this alive?" the princess elect repeated bewildered. The very concept left her stunned into silence for a few long moments. She had never contemplated trying to surpass her unspoken expiration date. Another woman might have quietly hoped and dreamed that Luke would fall in love with them and save them from a terrible fate, that romance would persuade the sovereign to spare them, that they would be the first commoner wed into royalty to see old age. Rhiane did not cling to such naive delusions. It was the prospect of being killed, as well as the stipend for her family, that had drawn her to entering the contest. Seeing her mother and brother slowly and painfully die due to their illness had been deeply traumatizing. Standing before their graves she had vowed to not fall prey to chance.

That was the source of one of her many arguments with her father and Gerard. Years together after the funerals had granted them the opportunity to discover Rhiane's morbid fantasies of retaining agency over her fate. At first they had not understood why she wanted to be a candidate for the contests. They had protested that eventually they could turn enough profit from the farm to retire comfortably, or hire workers to replace them when their bodies failed them. Gerard realized it first. By choosing to be a candidate, by entering into an agreement that would culminate in her death, she would guarantee some control over how she departed the world. She would not be able to anticipate exactly the means or the timing, but she'd die for a reason she accepted, by people she allowed. Her fatalistic jokes had always bothered them, but now they knew it was the honesty that hid behind each jest that set them ill at ease, the soft yearning to set the plan in motion that would end it all.

"As much as I would want to bear witness to you not marrying Anelle, you don't have to promise me impossible things. It's better for all them, Sebastian included, to accept my mortality. Your mother would be rid of me, you could find a woman you have a deep emotional connection with, our children would be raised by your standards, and my family would be able to prepare for my death rather than be blindsided," she pointed out. Pragmatically it made sense when she voiced these thoughts aloud. What it failed to take into account was that Luke might want her presence more than a noble lady, that he would prefer her as his co-parent rather than a stand in aristocrat, that he might want for their sons and daughters what he and his sister did not have, or that he might be negatively impacted by losing her. In the absence of his reassurances she could do nothing but assume nothing had changed.

"I'm not saying I'm jealous," Rhiane began, not wanting him to comment on her theory of her required premature demise, "but if I was, it's only because she's a piss poor Image Manger for provoking me. She ought to have been professional and acted in a way that would further her goals. Trying to seduce the very man she wants to convince the nation is madly infatuated with another she is purposefully slighting," she snorted through her nose. "When she shows me she can do her job properly then I will give her my respect, not before. I don't care if she's the mistress of a higher being, I'm not going to hold it all in and be cooperative with that worm," she vented. The problem with the throne was that it assumed it had all the power. It did not. That it was compelled to rely on a publicity stunt in the form of a peasant, one who was more popular than it was, and who had viable alternatives to being their puppet, meant they were on more equal footing then a couple weeks prior.

"Are you also advising that I'm not allowed to try to make her jealous?" she asked abruptly.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Once they had successfully initiated the jump, Solae unlatched the restraints on her chair's harness. "It will take some time to reach the end jump point," she told her passengers so that they were not alarmed by her apparent abandonment of piloting duties. "Let's see what is packed in our crates and get rooms set up for the three of you," she continued as she assumed leadership of the quintet. She knew that her soldier paramour would defer to her judgment and, furthermore, she would not impose on him to sort out living arrangements while he was still injured. He had already done too much. Criestia would be furious if she saw how he had physically taxed himself dragging their cargo onto the ship with the Syshin.

"Where are we going, mistress?" Dasin asked. The duchess was quickly learning it would take her alien companions longer than it took Rosaria to grow accustomed to referring to her by her first name. This was a period of drastic changes to the Syshin's lives. If the most difficulty they faced was an insistence of adhering to titles, then she would consider this social experiment a success.

"We're headed towards Kaldorei space," Solae remarked casually as she stood and walked back towards the hold where their crates had been stored. "Have you ever heard of the Kaldorei?" she inquired once she saw that Dasin and Yarue were following her. Rosaria did so more reluctantly; this was her first time traveling among the stars and she was briefly distracted by the fantastic view they had during quantum travel.

"We have not," Yarue affirmed.

Solae had suspected as much. The history of humans and Kaldorei was but a footnote that was deemed not to be of significant importance to teach to anyone beyond the nobility and military. Peasants were generally unaware of the race- the proven superiority of the Jeweled Armada was too humiliating for the empire to recount to the general populace, and it was not necessary to warn citizens that would never encounter their borders, much less the enigmatic creatures themselves. The Syshin that were enslaved were poorly educated on a whole. What was passed to them was largely from their fellow kin, such as cultural customs, rather than academic knowledge. Furthermore, before they had meant humanity, the Syshin had not been technologically advanced enough to venture beyond their planet.

"They are not human," she told them as she leaned over a crate. With Yarue's help they unsealed the lids of both crates and set them to side. "We don't know too much about them except that they are stronger than humans," she said, then swapped to Syshin to elaborate since she didn't know a way to convey what she meant in the common tongue. "When we met them hundreds of years ago they destroyed the humans that attacked their people, and the nearby human worlds in retaliation." This shocked both Syshin men whose eyes went wide at the revelation in the universal expression of surprise. "A treatise was signed so we are no longer at work, but they do not let humans inside their territory."

"Then why are we going there, mistress?" Dasin asked skeptically.

"Because I believe they will give us a place to rest and recover," the diplomat began slowly, "and because I believe it is our responsibility to right as many wrongs of our predecessors as is possible. Humans were- and are- arrogant, entitled, and cruel. That is what we showed the Kaldorei and that is what we showed the Syshin. But humans can also be compassionate, humble, and kind, and that is what I want to be our legacy. I want to prove that the Syshin deserve a greater place in the galaxy, and to prove to the Kaldorei we have grown into better people than our ancestors."

This answer stupefied both Dasin and Yarue, who were not quite sure how process the bold proclamation. Rosaria just stared at her benefactor. None of them knew how to handle the linguist's proclaimed benevolence. She had neither sad nor done anything to betray her ambitions, but they had grown accustomed to capricious malevolence as a result of being imprisoned by Thorne and subjected to her employees and/or clientele, and Solae was such a stark departure it was a challenge to accept they belonged to the same species. For her part, the duchess understood their suspicion. She was determined to prove herself. Grandiose goals required patience.

"I see Ten had packed everything we asked for and then some," she laughed aloud as she dug through the cargo. There was clothing for herself and Rene, including the garments they had worn during their visit with him and a few new pieces he had selected, including a salacious piece of lingerie she kept hidden from the view of the others. There was attire for Rosaria and the Syshin as well, but the criminal mastermind had clear favoritism. In addition there was a wide array of food stuffs for their journey, medical supplies, weaponry, armor, linens, and everyday sundries such as soap, high quality brushes, and vitamin supplements.

"Rosaria, would you mind helping Rene find something suitable for us to eat? Dasin, Yarue, will you help me set up some beds for tonight?" Solae hauled out the linens and walked off before anyone could protest their assigned tasks.

With the help of her larger and stronger bodyguards, the former marquise changed the sheets on a bunk in the empty crew cabin for Rosaria's use, but she was determined to not force the girl and Syshin to share quarters. The slavers that had operated the Bonaventure before it was "liberated" had a small enough crew that they had converted the second crew cabin into a storage space. The trio cleaned out this improvised storage room, set two mattresses onto the floor at Dasin and Yarue's insistence that was their preference, and similarly dressed them in linens. Solae had been worried their feet would hang off the end, but this was lavish accommodations compared to what they had prior: soft fabric sheets, pillows, and a private chamber for their exclusive use.

The Betrothed

If the crown prince expected his future bride to flinch at the mention of her established premature demise, an event that would take place after she had lived out her purpose of producing heirs, he would find she did no such thing. Rhiane was only disappointed he could speak of it so casually and without detachment. While she did not expect him to break with tradition, she did hope he would have an emotional response to the prospect of a life absent her presence, if only to affirm she was not a walking womb to him as she was the queen. She wanted to matter. Violet Black had been deceased for years but had not been forgotten. Her father maintained that the beautiful matriarch of the family had been his one true love, and there was not a day that went by that either of her surviving children did not miss her. That was the best that anyone could wish for, the former farmer believed, to be loved both in life and death.

"How can you possibly tell me she's not the sort of person you'd trust to raise our future children and then ask me to give her a chance?" Rhiane guffawed with an expression that made it clear she wasn't willing to reconsider her judgment of Anelle. "I thought Luce was fine but, let's not kid ourselves, there is no reason for me to trust them nor be their friends. Both of those would require me to believe them capable of thinking of me for a moment- my feelings, my wants, my needs, my health- but they would never. Anyone who is appointed into such a position position is someone your mother deems qualified to force me into the mold without unflinchingly."

"Besides," she continued as she crossed her arms with a grumpy frown, "you know very well she is a witch. Waltzing into here and trying to entice you with her womanly wiles while I'm only a few feet away. I'm surprised she didn't pee on you to mark her territory," the princess elect rambled with her overflowing rampant jealousy. "Unless you're suggesting being nice to her to wage psychological warfare, she'll be lucky if I even listen to her, though I suspect she won't let that dissuade her from batting her eyelashes and proposing more dates. I wonder if she melts in the rain," she seethed, quoting an old myth from a story in which water was used to kill a wicked spellcaster who had plagued an innocent maiden.

Rhiane fell silent temporarily as she contemplated the various ways she could exact revenge. Most of them were not plausible. Much as she wanted to toss the aristocrat under a moving vehicle, or arrange for her to ingest a diarrhetic, such petty plots would not give her the satisfaction she desired. Even worse, they could backfire on her spectacularly. Exposing the image manager would be the most damaging action she could take and also the most drastic. Anelle could deny charges that she lusted after her ex-lover, but it could not be understated how much more the public trusted the commoner who had won them over with her charms, warmth, and humility, and it was unlikely that an allegation uttered by the peasant-turned-royal would go ignored.

"Sebastian?" She was jerked back into the reality of the present when Luke began to explain his motivations in visiting. Each word that dripped off his lips made it more clear that the crown prince was wading into waters without knowing the depth of the see he was entering. The complete lack of surprise on her visage was evidence that she knew slightly more about the rebellion than she had disclosed. There were members that had approached her back when she was a nobody, before the contest had been announced, when the Black family farm was crawling out of financial ruin. None of them were the violent war-mongers that had nearly caused her death. The palace painted a picture of citizens involved with the revolution as being sinister, malevolent, and misguided, but the truth was that they were people who were frustrated by their circumstances and felt powerless to exact change without joining a political movement.

"Have you thought about how you might persuade him?" Rhiane inquired softly. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate you're not wanting to arrest him, but I'd caution you against getting your hopes up too high. If he knew the people responsible for threatening my life he would have not hesitated to give their names. That you think he withheld information from you means he might be reluctant to disclose anything that might put him, my brother, or father in danger, or he might doubt what you'd do when you share secrets. Luke, you have to understand that life on the farm is... difficult. We're so far from the palace, and every day is such a struggle, that people in my hometown don't have a connection with you or your sister, who I like the most out of everyone I've met." She doubted this would get through to him. He was a man who was very convinced that he was perfectly playing the role of a stern father- giving everyone the opportunity to better themselves, while not enabling laziness, and their respective success or failure could be attributed to their work ethic. If the country operated as well in practice as it did in theory there would be no resistance to quash.

"If you want my advice, which you probably don't, but I compulsively give it anyway, talk to him as one man to another. Don't invoke your title as prince. Voice your concerns and your worries, and appeal to his compassion. He's a stubborn mule like Gerard, and his past trauma will make him shut down if you're too aggressive, but he's full of principles and empathy. Seb's heart guides him," she smiled with a touch of admiration in her tone. It was fortunate for Luke that Sebastian was a gay man or else he might have been serious competition for the sultry brunette's affections. She flopped over and sprawled on the sofa to stare at the ceiling. Something about being around Sebastian was like being nestled in a warm blanket. His unrestrained acceptance, patience, and comforting aura had been able to soothe her family when they were at their worst. Perhaps that was what she needed most- an uncomplicated supporter.