Syrenrei

The Betrothed

"They received the prize money," Rhiane carefully acknowledged as she squinted against the sun and stared out at the guards converging on the bystanders. A few of them were trying to spot the royal and his bride-to-be, but the alignment of the sun and the shadow it cast over the two-story home made it too difficult for the couple to be seen at this distance. It was not all that long ago that she would have been an unremarkable commoner passing by on the road. Before the contest had been won she would have been a faceless, nameless, deemed unworthy of even a glance from the heir to the throne, despite the fact she had possessed all the same traits then as she did now. Something twisted inside her; pity for the peasants that would never have their talents realized or recognized, and loathing for the aristocrats she believed did not deserve the respect they were given by the crown.

Sighing to herself she leaned against the stucco. "Sebastian gave me the information I need to access the funds. Father and Gerard tried to refuse the stipend, so the palace opened an account for them at the bank and made the transfer. It's been available ever since. To them accepting the money would be endorsing all the terms of our engagement..." Rhiane's words drifted off momentarily. "Imagine if it were Cally. Would you spend any favors, anything given to you in exchange, for your sister to marry a man you thought couldn't love her, wouldn't cherish her, who you expected would replace her once he was through with her?" It was a poignant question she had not posed before. Whether or not he admitted it, Luke would have been even more hostile than Gerard were the roles reversed, perhaps threatening physical intervention to prevent the union from being forged. Perhaps there was no one in the world whom the blonde prince would prize more highly than his sibling.

Glancing down at her wrist she grinned, shrugging, keeping her tone forcefully light and buoyant. "I left the device on the plane since I thought we had an agreement you'd put it on me tonight. But, if it makes you feel better, I plan to stay here at the house. Who knows when I'll be back?" It was less of a matter of when and more an issue of if. For all his promises, Luke could not guarantee her safety from the clutches of Queen Camilla and her lackeys, who would not let her retire into the landscape of New Rome peacefully if they had any choice. Much as she trusted and believed in her beloved's intentions, not everything was within the scope of his control, and failure was a distinct possibility.

She patted the cream exterior finish of the nearest wall with a fondness. "It would be cleaner to buy a new property but this is part of the Black family heritage. Even if it wasn't, this was where Mom decorated, smiled, and danced, where I held her hand as she died, where Edwin teased, played, and grew, and where I held his hand as he died. I know they're dead, but it feels like they're still here somehow, as if the best memories have been kept alive. That's why I want to manage the beginning of the restoration myself. I know it's probably a bit overly sentimental but," again a shrug as if they were holding a conversation about a casual topic, "it will keep me out of your fabulous hair for a day."

By now Rhiane estimated his patience was running thin. Luke was not invested in her history, the two people whom she had nearly killed herself trying to comfort in their final moments, the lingering happy recollections that haunted the barren halls like ghosts, the awe she held for generations that had diligently kept the grounds intact before economic hardship led to disrepair, the emotions being in her old living room conjured with painful potency. Some of her smile faded briefly as she wondered if he had endured Sophia's rambling with adoration. Now that her name had been uttered it was hard to chase the phantom of the seemingly perfect actress, the preferred fiancee, the one who bent his ear and whom he had attended to with such consideration.

Deep in her heart she knew that she was an embarrassment: her birth, her childhood, her background, her tiny little room filled with fanciful paintings at the top of the stairs he had yet to climb.

"I'll see you later," she said abruptly. Just as she was turning to go into the house she collided with Gerard, who put his hands on her shoulders to keep her from falling. Sebastian was directly behind him and Hubert in the rear.

"Are you all right?" Gerard asked, noticing her somber expression with a hint of concern.

"Don't haze him," Rhiane veritably growled, batting away her brother's hands and straightening her posture. "I meant what I said. I won't forgive you if anything happens. Just because I can't whoop your ass doesn't mean I don't have a bodyguard than can now." She huffed, disappearing through the threshold before the tall, dark-haired man could process the threat. Tobias, who was standing less than a hundred meters off, stoically hid his bemused chuckle.

There was a small ping on Luke's device. A file had been sent to him by Sebastian- a recorded clip of Rhiane's proclamation minutes ago about how she did not expect the sovereign's son to care about her. Attached to it were messages from an anonymous contact, the missive itself decrypted but the identity shielded by innumerable layers of protective coding, telling Sebastian that they would send him the 'promised proof' by dusk that the rebellion's intentions towards the princess elect had shifted away from assassination in favor of abduction. It was not precisely what the crown prince had requested, but it was valuable intelligence, and innocuous enough that it would not expose his informant.

The Betrothed

Hubert Black and Gerard Black were still stupefied as Luke strolled out of the room and to the front door, closing it behind him securely as he exited the home. Sebastian had a smile curled upon his lips, amused and impressed by the crown prince's declaration he would spend the day doing farm labor in his expensive clothes. The crown princess had turned to watch him go, wistfully staring at his backside as she wished that they had a single day to themselves without complications, difficulties, and arguments, to see if the intensity of their passionate lovemaking was a sign they were not impossibly matched. Moments like these made her wonder. Neither one had to strive as hard as they did to prove themselves; he did not need the blessing of her family, and she did not need every member of the palace staff and public to adore her, and yet they did not logic impede their efforts. Internally she had to concede perhaps she was trying so hard for him, because she believed that there was a spark beneath his pretentious exterior, that he had the makings of a greater king than his predecessors. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe in her as well.

"If anything happens to him, I won't forgive you," she told the three gathered men sternly. "If he comes back and he's anything more than tired from the field work, I'll visit his injuries on each of you tenfold," Rhiane threatened severely. Her tone of voice was indicative of just how serious she was. The Black household was guilty of shouting and yelling when they were angry with one another, but there were not cases of domestic violence, the worst physical transgressions being when the siblings would fight in their youth.

"Why do you care for him?" Gerard asked her in an accusatory tone. "All you are to him is a woman who fought for the right to have his children. Your body won't even be cold before he moves on to someone like Sophia, if he even waits that long. Leave him now and stop this madness. We don't need his damned money!" he sputtered with venom. Luke had underestimated the feelings that his new in-laws had for him; they did not just dislike, they loathed, they hated, they doubted, they despised with every fiber of their being. That he had undersold the toll of the plague, and spoken of it with numbers instead of empathy, had done nothing to win them over.

"What has been done with that damned money?" Rhiane inquired as she turned towards Sebastian, expecting neither her of her blood relatives to give her a direct answer. "It hasn't been used for repairs or to replace the furniture, clearly."

"Hubert tried to refuse the stipend," the blond shrugged, "but they couldn't allow our refusal. There was a deposit made into an account with all our names at the bank, and we were sent the access information for the funds." It made sense. If there had been an investigation and the reward had not been forced upon her family, it would have made Queen Camilla appear weak, and would have been a blight on the forthcoming union. Public image was everything while the monarchy's loyalists trickled away and the revolution's numbers grew. The love story had to remain intact by any means possible.

"Can you give me that information?" the brunette asked of her friend. He nodded in affirmation as they began toward the study where it had been jotted down on a piece of paper.

"Rhi!" Gerard called out testily.

"I don't expect him to care about me, Ger," Rhiane replied, knowing the reason he had interrupted her. He needed to have her answer, to know why she clung to the royal so firmly, why she shielded Luke from the very people she loved so fiercely that she was sacrificing her life to gift them financial security. "Dad had Mom, and you and Sebastian have each other, and your love is so miraculous that I never thought I could have the same thing," she confessed softly, "so let me do this for all of you. Let me leave behind a legacy that makes your lives comfortable, and if we're lucky there will be a little bit of us in the next heir to throne, a spitfire with Mom's good sense, or Dad's moral compass. That's more than most people can hope for," she smiled sadly.

"Fuck," Gerard whispered under his breath as he fought back tears.

True to his word, Sebastian handed over a scrap of parchment with a series of numbers representing an account number, password, and PIN that would allow her unrestricted access to the funds. They did not speak during this exchange. There was nothing more to say. The foreigner realized that his sentiments would not pierce the carapace guarding Rhiane's heart on the topic, and she knew that she could not persuade him to appreciate the crown prince with the strength of her emotions.

"Luke," his betrothed said as she stepped outside the door. Hubert and Gerard were changing into work clothes while Sebastian gathered the tools that all four would need for the day ahead. Waiting until he concluded his phone call she pulled him to the side, trying to ensure that the security detail could not overhear. "I want to order furniture, appliances, things they need and are too stubborn to purchase themselves. Can you ask the guards to let deliveries through? I could ask them myself, but we both know it's you that they take orders from. Being stuck here doing nothing all day would drive me mad," she explained. There was much she could accomplish with hours to herself. With the name of Rhiane Black, future queen of New Rome, she was guaranteed to have services expedited without request, as it would be priceless for merchants to be able to proclaim she was a patron of their establishment.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

They disembarked the spacecraft in a pre-arranged formation of Solae's choosing as once again they deferred to her expertise and judgment. By no means did this mean the duchess relished in the way leadership had passively been thrust upon her shoulders, but in this instance, as a delegation to a foreign race whom they were approaching in peace, it was a responsibility she gladly assumed. This was more the pinnacle of her dreams than being granted an elevated title. The former marquise and her escort walked in the front. Rene balked slightly, not wanting to steal any of the limelight from the dignitary herself, but she was insistent. Socially she was his superior in the Stellar Empire, but she wanted her partner beside her, to set a precedent for his involvement in her life as her equal in all things, regardless of courtly protocol. Rosaria, as handmaiden, walked directly behind the couple, flanked by the towering Syshin guards in their finery. Though it was not discussed aloud, the adults all realized this kept the teenager protected in the unlikely event things became hostile, as she had no battle experience to reply upon and keep her safe otherwise.

The landing pad was not a composite like anything they had seen before. By the time the thrusters had been cut and the hatch opened, the glittering deep green stone was only mildly warm to the touch. At first blush one might erroneously assume the hue was completely a convenient byproduct of the materials. The aerial view, however, proved that the specific verdant shade blended into the vegetation in the near vicinity, making the slab both stand out enough to be functionally sound, but be sufficiently innocuous on the ground level to not be an eyesore among the landscaping. This visual harmony was not a coincidence; it made Solae speculate that there were variations of this landing pad in a myriad of colors.

Before they had touched down the diplomat had briefly wondered if the Kalderi had suffered any sort of cataclysmic event, like the one humanity had suffered so long ago, one that could have possibly returned them to a prior technological age. Each successive step forward she became more certain that, even if they had, their advancements had been regained. The residence in front of them was a veritable piece of art, the stone curving, twisting, and stretching upwards as it had been carved from a single slab by a sculptor. There were no joints or seams in sight. The elevated walkways were impossibly smooth arches whose beauty made it easy to forget how precarious they would be to walk without handrails.

The mystery of why there were so few boats and why the architecture rose to such heights was dispelled as they reached the portico. In space Kalderi armor kept their wings covered out of pragmatic necessity, but here on land there was no such need, and the limbs were exposed and neatly folded behind them. Similarly, their host or hostess (it was difficult to discern a gender) had robes designed to accommodate wings as well as their full range of movement, enabling flight so long as the clothing was not too heavy. Solae hid the surprise on her face but discreetly kept glancing towards the leathery appendages. They were dark in color, two of them a saturated purple edging on black, one a deep brown, and the last glimmering a faint blue when struck by errant rays of sunshine.

Ancient mythos, when religion was revered on the home planets of human civilization, spoke of demonic creatures with leathery wings. It was impossible not to draw a parallel. Kalderi faces were drastically different, especially their mouths, but there were not dissimilar to the more bestial renditions of lore. Perhaps these had not been creatures of idle imaginations. Millennia ago Kalderi could have theoretically visited Earth, the birthplace of their species, and incited a legend. More often than not a tale was inspired by fact. Human recreations, since memory was fallible, could account for the stark differences between fiction and reality, or the Kalderi could have evolved from their first years of traveling the stars. Neanderthals and the genetically engineered aristocrats of today were far from identical.

"Duchess Solae Falia, Lieutenant Colonel Rene Quentain, Handmaiden Rosaria, Guard Darue, and Guard Yasin," the robed Kalderi greeted with careful, precise enunciation, "I welcome you. The language of my people is not entirely within the range of human hearing, and you are not physically able to replicate its sounds, so you will call me Lithyll while you are here." It was an unusual introduction, but purposeful, as the disclosure would prevent misunderstandings once they were led inside. If they had heard Lithyll called another name, or heard half-conversations in their presence, they would not be as suspicious it was malice or malevolent secrecy that kept the communication outside their understanding.

"It is an honor, truly," Solae returned the greeting with a reverent curtsy. "By permitting us to land you have already brought me a great amount of personal joy," she proclaimed with a radiant smile. Interactions between imperial nobility was a lesson in restraint; suppressing emotions, forcing calm composure, withholding grins and frowns, even controlling the cadence of laughter to politely suit the situation. Here, however, Solae's honest and earnest desire to simply be around the Kalderi so that she might hear of their culture was her greatest asset. Restraint could have made her seem coldly apathetic, which would be insincere and make them question her true aim.

"Personal joy?" Lithyll repeated, his or her head twitching slightly to the side.

"I am curious about all the people of the universe," Solae explained, her enthusiasm freely seeping into her words, "about their traditions, their beliefs, their customs, their lifestyles, their folklore. I know that the failings of our ancestors have given you every reason to forbid my fellow humans from entering your homes, and so I hoped for this moment but did not dare to presume my wishes would be granted. To see you and speak you alone fills me with happiness," she added with a bow of her head in respect.

"You are an unusual human, Duchess Solae Falia," Lithyll observed, but the lilt of their voice suggested it was a compliment rather than a criticism. "We have much to discuss," he/she said, turning towards the doors and motioning for the intrepid troupe to follow.

The Betrothed

"Luke, you don't have to," Rhiane interjected once he announced his intention to tend to the farm for the day. Glancing between her stunned father, who sat with his mouth hanging open in shock, her brother, whose lips were slightly parted in surprise, and her betrothed, who was as stubbornly confident as he always was, she began to realize that things had quickly spun out of her expected parameters. She had anticipated yelling, arguing, and bickering, and then hoped that they would leave within an hour, with the entire visit quickly forgotten. The princess elect had been forthright in that she did not believe a reconciliation with her family was possible at this time, and Luke had countered his real goal had been to have a private conversation with Sebastian. Why he was now entertaining this provocation, this challenge, was baffling.

"I think it's an excellent idea, Prince Alessandro," Sebastian intoned calmly with his endless patience.

"You do?" Hubert asked. He had snapped out of his stupor to look at his son-in-law incredulously. Most of his anger had dissipated with the heir to the throne's announcement that he would be joining them in the fields. While he had not forgiven or accepted the younger man as an appropriate suitor for his daughter, he was too taken aback by the offer to keep a firm grip on his hostility.

"It will give Prince Alessandro a chance to better understand what it was like for you to grow up here," Sebastian explained placidly, "and it will also given him a chance to prove his sincerity as future king and as your future husband to Hubert and Gerard. Sometimes feelings are better shown through action than words." The aristocracy would balk at the image of their sovereign doing physical labor, but no one in the room could deny the points that the blonde foreigner raised. If Luke toiled and struggled, it would be easier for the doubting men to believe he really cared about Rhiane, as he would be doing it for her sake. Conversely, if he abandoned his tasks within an hour, they would have their proof he was a man who was neither committed nor invested.

"This is ridiculous," the sultry brunette objected. "He has much more important things to do than help you harvest crops." Now that Sebastian had weighed in in favor of the idea, she knew she was fighting a losing battle, but she had to try to make them abandon this fool's errand. As bad as things were now, she didn't want it to escalate or worsen, as she had a difficult time imagining that Luke would truly follow their lead on how to operate the heavy machinery, test the soil, or inspect the rows for signs of pests.

"He can borrow some of my clothes," Sebastian offered as he stood. Of the three he had the best attire; there were no stains, no rips, not even wrinkles with the exception of where he had rolled up his sleeves. It was the superior option if Luke did not want to jeopardize his relative finery for his adventure in the rural landscape.

"Luke," Rhiane said as she grabbed his hand, turning her head to the side and whispering so the other occupants of the sitting area could not overhear. "It's not necessary. You don't need my dad's blessing. You could get hurt out there," she said, "and won't you miss some of your meetings? This isn't worth it." Concern laced her voice. He had chastised her once that he did not need her to fight his battles or protect him, but that was precisely what she was doing, though she did not realize it in the moment. Much as she had been injured by the emotionally charged discussion, especially when Sophia was mentioned, she was willing to endure those wounds if she could prevent him from being similarly affected by verbal jabs, muscle strain, fatigue, or even the political consequences of skipping some of his obligations.

All of them waited for a response. Hubert, Gerard, and Sebastian did not know what was being said, but they were smart enough to surmise that Rhiane was making a final plea to Luke's sensibilities, as she clearly disagreed. Only the latter of the three knew with any certainty, but it was dawning on the former two that the strong, proud, independent woman was attached beyond what the arrangement required, and that she was apprehensive about allowing him to undertake any risk, no matter how minimal, on her behalf.

The Betrothed

Neither Hubert nor Gerard Black respected the authority of the crown prince, despite his elevated status, and the fact he could have had them severely punished for their hostile accusations. It was Rhiane they begrudgingly accepted the authority of. While they had been utterly destroyed by the deaths of the family's matriarch and second-eldest son she had pushed aside her own grief to become their cook, their housekeeper, their accountant, their manager, their salesman, and the glue that not only held them together but kept their lives afloat. No one spoke of the sacrifice out loud, but all of them knew this is why she ruled over the residence despite being the youngest. They glared at Luke but reluctantly sat, the father on the farthest end, the elder son in the middle, and Sebastian on the side closest to the engaged couple.

"My BLESSING?" the patriarch roared incredulously. "I'm not giving a murderer my blessing," he glowered with animosity. His loathing of Luke appeared to fester by the moment. Gerard looked as if he might also object to the request, protesting the right the royal had to ask such a thing, but Sebastian's hand on his knee drew his attention away. Rather than launch into his own diatribe he leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Don't call him that," Rhiane snapped furiously. "Mom and Edwin..."

"Don't be blind, Rhi! He's complicit to what is going on in this country, to the queen! Can anyone except him claim they really don't think the throne's to blame for all the people that died from the plague? That work themselves to death? I'll be damned if I let him murder you like his mother murdered her husband!" They were dangerous allegations and yet it was clear how, in the midst of his angry frenzy, he desperately loved his daughter. He had never recovered from the loss of Violet Black. Day and night he mourned her with an endless sea of yearning, of melancholy, of despair, as if a light had been ripped away from him. What drove him to such madness now was the fear that he'd outlive another one of his children. Burying his wife had been hard, but burying a son had broken him a second time, and he could not handle a third. Cruel claims against Luke's character had a pleading undertone. There was nothing he wouldn't do to save her from an early grave.

"I told you I knew the risks before I left! This is my choice to make, not yours," Rhiane replied hotly. She was avoiding the issue of the guilt or innocence of the monarchy for the casualties of the plague. Internally she agreed with her father, but she wouldn't leave Luke without a defense, and she was not certain that her fiance himself played a hand in how the treatments were distributed to the public. Within the last week he seemed to be genuinely realizing that what he saw on paper was not the reality his lower class citizens faced.

"Hubert," Sebastian intervened calmly, as if they had been having a conversation about the weather or their favorite book. "Rhi cares about Prince Alessandro, and you always said that's what you wanted most for her in a marriage."

"That assumed he would care about her! I'm not an idiot, Sebastian! I've seen the headlines about that actress! I'm not giving my blessing to a man who is with her because his first choice left the country and is going to kill her off when he's done with her!" he boomed, nearly rising from his seat before he sat back down again, uncertain what to do with all his pent up aggression.

Although she did not show it, the allusion to Luke's lover stung Rhiane and made her convictions falter. Even she had to concede that Sofia was a beautiful, talented women, the sort that any man would be proud to bring home to his parents, who effortlessly charmed people with her grace. No matter how hard the former farmer strove towards her ideals, she couldn't reverse her low birth, or erase a childhood of which ultimately Luke would be ashamed. This was what she had been so apprehensive of when she warned that coming to her home would be a disaster. Blow after blow would be delivered and, because they knew her intimately, they would fracture and wound the confidence she had built over the last two weeks.

"Go back to the comfort of your plane," Gerard finally spoke up gruffly. "Rhi knows how to survive in your world, but you wouldn't last a day on this farm."

The Betrothed

For as grand as the exterior appeared comparatively to its neighbors, the interior of the residence was proof that the Black family was far from affluent. The wooden floors were worn and had long lost their luster and polish, though they remained sturdy and intact, a testament to their construction and durability. Pale yellow walls exuded a soft warmth but were scuffed and damaged, the color faded from its former glory, as it had been over two decades since they were painted. Interspersed woven rugs were in varying stages approaching threadbare from overuse. Wide windows allowed light to pour into the rooms through curtains that had been bleached by the sun. It was a poor home, but it was clean, and decorated with affection instead of wealth; cheap wooden frames displayed children's artwork or family portraits, chairs had been lovingly patched with aching dedication, and one corner of the front entryway had inked growth charts showing how tall Gerard, Edwin, and Rhiane had grown through the years.

"You... you didn't have to come in!" Rhiane hissed as she flushed. Unlike before it was not his touch that flustered her; it was how she was convinced he'd look down upon the house she grew up in. She was intimately aware how accustomed he was to the luxuries of the palace. It was one thing to be draped in finery and paraded around the capitol with everyone aware of her background, it was quite another to take someone who had only known decadent comfort, who held impossibly high standards, and escort them through the place from whence she came. The former farmer was proud, but she could not help but be both slightly embarrassed and worried. Were the decision up to her, she'd never grant access to anyone, no reporters, no adoring fans, not even Luke, so that her vulnerabilities lay hidden and a tiny fraction of her privacy was preserved.

"Don't you have work to do?" she whispered in protest as she walked further into the house. To the left and right were open doorways that led to a dining room, absent any fine china or works of art to awe guests, and an office with an old desk, on top of which was a computing device, but was surrounded by unsorted papers. Hand-written notes were tacked to the wall and tools were scattered around on the floor. This had once been where Rhiane did most of her work, but her absence and untidy family had left it in total disarray, their lack of organization glaringly offensive to her gaze.

Passing a set of stairs, Rhiane walked towards the back of the house where the majority of the floor was dominated by a kitchen and living area, the latter of which contained the contentious Hubert Black and Gerard Black. The room was dominated by a large stone fireplace, whose logs were lit to help bring a comfortable level of heat. For seating there was a long sofa and two armchairs that flanked it, all of a deep brown approaching black, small rips in the upholstery stitched together and covered with blankets. The tables in the room were made of solid wood. Rural parts of New Rome found that they could fell trees on their property and trade a carpenter for their services easier than they could buy more expensive furnishings.

Hubert Black was a large, burly man, with dark hair that had begun to turn silver. His hands were calloused from a life of hard labor and his skin had darkened to a deep bronze. While a life toiling outdoors had certainly weathered his skin, he had handsome, chiseled features, and would have been easily able to attract a new wife were he so inclined. He wore an off-white button-up shirt, rolled up to the elbows, a simple pair of trousers, and black work boots. More notably he was as tall as Sebastian. It was from her father than Rhiane inherited her height, though he had contributed other attractive parts of her genetics as well.

Gerard Black was shorter than both Hubert (and Sebastian), but bore a striking resemblance to his father. His hair was darker than his sister's and shoulder-length, tied back at the nape of his neck. He had brown eyes, unlike Rhiane's green, and had an athletic figure that was less broad than his partner's. Perhaps in protest he wore a black shirt, black slacks, and black boots, as if he were in mourning. A scowl was already painted on his lips in anticipating of their arriving gifts. When he smiled he could stop the hearts of his admirers, but when he was angry his looks made him all that much more severe and foreboding, his stare sharp and relentless.

"How dare you come back here with him!" Hubert's voice thundered with fury.

"How dare you try to forbid your only daughter from returning to her home," Rhiane countered back quickly angrily, her temper ignited instantly. "Did you think refusing to talk to me would have made mother happy?"

"Don't you speak her name or Edwin's! You lost that right the moment you left to enter the contest, supporting their murderers!" Hubert all but yelled with equal amounts of pain and unbridled rage in his voice.

"SIT DOWN," she ordered them sternly. Hubert and Gerard had both been standing when they entered the room and balked at this sudden demand. Sebastian had walked in behind casually with his hands in his pockets and said nothing. He did not need to. Rhiane was the smallest person in the room but she had such an authoritative tone, such an unapologetic ally hostile insistence, that she could have quieted a theatre full of disrespectful children. "I said to sit down, or I'll have a bodyguard come in and make you," she threatened before clearing her throat. "Sebastian, would you mind if the three of you took the couch?" she asked more sweetly.

The Betrothed

Hearing voices through the fog of her slowly waking mind, Rhiane blinked several times at the sun pouring through the open door, at the four silhouettes standing at varying distances from the vehicle. Sebastian nodded to Luke respectfully before he approached and gently kissed his sister-in-law on the forehead. He was older than her by over a decade, three years Gerard's senior, though his unassuming demeanor made it easy to forget this significant difference. The gesture was undeniably affectionate but lacked any undertone of romance; it was full of the familial love a father had for his daughter and an elder brother had for his younger sister. When Hubert Black had been crushed under the grief of his wife's death, Sebastian had become a secondary father figure for Rhiane, someone who could listen and offer advice without making her feel she was a burden for him to bear.

"Good morning, my princess," he said without a hint of possessiveness.

With an unladylike exclamation of delight Rhiane veritably pounced on Sebastian, who laughed, catching her in her arms. They hugged fiercely, as if it was the last time they might ever hold each other, uncaring if their audience disapproved. From over Sebastian's shoulder, Rhiane met Luke's gaze and beamed. She had genuine smiles at every event; she found things to like, to appreciate, and sincerely enjoyed being around the public and reporters even if the crown prince did not. The smile she fixated on her fiance was brighter than its predecessors and filled with an unspoken gratitude for reuniting her with a treasured friend. It was sufficiently brilliant that from where he stood apart Tobias went briefly rigid in jealousy.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to like women?" she teased Sebastian as she pulled away, whisking away tears that had formed at the edges of her eyes.

"I'm afraid that every other night I'm reminded I only care for men," he shrugged and smirked when he saw Rhiane's face twist into an expression of disgust. She loved and Gerard and Sebastian, and envied their relationship, but reacted the same way any other sibling might at the allusion to an intimate life. "Are you sure you're ready to see them? I wouldn't hold it against you if you left now," he said with concern in his voice.

"I'm not a coward," she asserted. Luke had tried to advise her she did not have to prove herself to anyone, but her pride compelled to do just that, to strive towards impossible goals. "The rest of you can stay outside until I calm them down," the princess elect declared coolly as if she were discussing misbehaving children rather than two grown, physically imposing adults. Rhiane was tall and stronger than the average woman, but there was no mistaking that any one of her present company could have taken her in a skirmish, that if things devolved to blows she would be at a disadvantage. Her sense authority did not come from an imposing stature, however, and was instead the result of cunning and raw willpower.

Sebastian sighed. He watched her start to stride towards the front door with an air of purpose and determination. Walking up beside Luke and whispering so that only the royal would be privy to his commentary he stated, "The rebellion doesn't realize they are trying to abduct a lioness. She's fearless when she's trying to protect something or someone." What propelled the brunette to the front door of her home, shoulders squared to brace herself for a fight, was not motivation to reconcile for her own benefit. The former farmer was, in her own way, trying once again to shield the heir to the throne from her emotional baggage, the venom that could be unleashed towards him, cruel truths that could not be unsaid.

The Betrothed

Sebastian was visibly hesitant to put such a large amount of trust into the crown prince. Luke had done nothing to indicate he had bad intentions, or was unworthy of such faith, but it was difficult for the commoner to take such a monumental risk on someone who had ultimately done nothing to earn the trust. They were veritable strangers to one another. Their common link, Rhiane, was what bound him to consider the proposal. He wanted to keep her safe, both from the violent element of the rebellion and from herself, but he was not yet convinced it was in her best interests to remain in the castle by the side of the heir to the throne. If he did not intervene or help to prevent an abduction, perhaps Rhiane would be happier and not doomed to a life of tragedy. Then again, he had to concede he believed that there was sincere affection between the poorly matched pair and, more than any incentive from the country's revolutionary forces, that could save her from counting down the days until she could remove herself from existence.

"I'll see if I can have some of the more recent messages forward to me," he decided aloud. "If I can have them sent to me, I will pass them along to you." It was the biggest commitment that Sebastian was willing to make at that precise moment. That Luke would not even sit beside him did not escape his attention; he was understandably skeptical of the aristocrat. On broadcast the reporters frequently emphasized the traits that the crown prince shared with the queen. No one in their town was a supporter of the monarchy. If Luke could prove he was different, that he could understand and sympathize, that he was not apathetic to the plight of those outside of his social class, and that they were all more than pawns in a game he was playing, then Sebastian would try harder to obtain confidential correspondence.

At the very least he hoped that seeing the missives from the last day might alleviate concerns about Rhiane being in imminent danger. He was not naive enough to think that the possibility of a pregnancy would make everyone lay down their arms, but it was clear Luke would only accept concrete evidence as proof his intimate encounters had changed the opinions of many rebellion members. Sebastian was of the opinion that if they were more focused on preparing for a kidnapping, which the movement was actively plotting, it would be more effective than if the security detail was solely concentrated on the shrinking martyr zealots.

Just as he was about to inquire about what exactly happened to them- he knew it involved an accident with a car and the village they visited prior- Luke received a second ping on the device on his wrist. Abruptly he announced to someone they didn't need permission before turning on his heel and leaving the garden at a hurried pace. Sebastian watched in confusion. It was only after Nolan did a visual sweep and also left that he rose to his feet and followed after. Whatever was the cause of the interruption was apparently in the direction of their driveway.

"Who will be posted in Miss Black's room, your highness, to ensure she can rest?" Tobias asked Luke evenly. He might be cousin to the royalty, but he was still a bodyguard, and wasn't able to directly point out his objection to the plan. His pragmatic question was, however, a jab meant to point out that while Rhiane was comfortable on the stoic man's shoulder, she couldn't be deposited on a bed and be reliably expected to sleep undisturbed. Lia or Octavia could be posted with her, but the princess elect was not was fond of them as she was the soothing presences of her only friend in the palace and her betrothed. There was the added issue that anyone who entered the house would likely overhear any arguments that erupted between the family members.

As Tobias complied with Luke's request, and began to slide out of the rear seat of the SUV, Rhiane's head shifted off his shoulder and started to gently fall. This movement was sufficient to make her start to wake. She exhaled softly and righted herself before taking a deep breath that turned into a yawn. The vibrations of the moving vehicle had been what initially lulled her to sleep. Now that it had been parked and there was no one providing soothing physical contact she was not as easily coaxed into the land of slumber. She was still tired, but not as exhausted as she had been the night they had spent in the spa.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Why would they board us with only two people?" Rosaria asked as she trailed after Solae. The longer she was with the couple the more she took advantage of the fact that they would answer her questions. Thorne's employees would not permit her to speak out of turn and, on the rare occasion she was openly defiant, they refused to honor any request, much less an idle query. They had viewed her as an object with which they would infuse the knowledge deemed necessary. When she had been liberated, it was both physically and intellectually. It was for this reason that neither the linguist nor her lover would deny her reasonable explanations; they wanted her to stand on her own as a person, and that required giving her the tools to understand the world around her outside the limited scope in which she had been allowed.

"It was a risk assessment," the duchess replied as she made her way to the bridge. Mia had already been instructed to navigate them through the system towards their destination. Typically she would have guided their vessel herself, but Solae felt the circumstances warranted the precision of a computer, as a slight deviation could be interpreted poorly by the Kalderi. The AI lacked the 'finesse' to perform the landing, however, so she had to be prepared to handle their touch down. It was a task made slightly ridiculous by her regal and refined gown that glittered with each step.

"Imagine you are the Kalderi," Solae elaborated as she sat down. Her full skirt overflowed on the chair, making the sight even more comical, but she didn't have time to dwell on the ludicrous. "Besides merchants, you don't have many dealings with an alien race, and your first contact was when they massacred one of your settlements just because you could. You'd be skeptical of anyone coming to you with proposals of peace. Even if you're technologically superior, they could still have crude weaponry, and if they are lying about their intentions they could damage or kill your people if you allow them to land. Alternatively, you could send a couple scouts to board their skip and try to verify their story and at least make certain they aren't armed to the teeth with explosives. The worst case scenario is you lose two scouts, but you'd still be able to eliminate the threat before they are near any civilians."

"You understood all that from two Kalderi on our ship?" Rosaria asked skeptically. It made sense, and she did not disbelieve the theory, but she was slightly baffled as to how such a large leap had been made from a brief interaction.

"They didn't show much interest in conversation, wore armored suits, and were trying to evaluate an unknown factor," Solae replied with a soft smile. "If that's not a military scout, I'm not sure what is. If they had sent one of my fellow diplomats we'd still be waxing poetic about the details of the Stellar Empire's treatise with the Kalderi," she lightly jested with sincerity. Sooner or later they would run into one of her professional peers. She estimated that even Rene would tire quickly of listening to her spending hours lost in chatter.

"Yarue, Dasin," she called over the speaker, "would either of you like to simulate what a landing would be like? Mia, activate the co-pilot seat like we did with Rene that once. Have my station maintain the controls, but ghost them to the other station so they can feel when it's aligned." It would be a harmless exercise. No input would actually be processed from the second chair except to give a sensation of whether or not they were in synchronization or if had made an error. It occurred to her that just because her fiance did not have the aptitude did not mean any of her companions might share in some of the necessary strengths. The offer was not made to Rosaria on account of her age; she was much more reluctant to let a non-adult learn the system.

"I will try," Yarue announced as he quickly moved from the main hold to the cockpit where Solae and her handmaiden were watching for visual cues they were in range to begin the landing sequence.

"Three minutes until we enter orbit," Mia declared breathlessly as they watched the planet grow larger on both their screens and in their generously sized window. The two warships had moved to maintain a safe distance, just in case the humans acted erratically, but were strictly monitoring, not threatening the freighter.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

The two Kalderi were silent and, at first, the Bonaventure's crew worried there had been something lost in translation. Belatedly Solae noticed their mouths were moving inside their helmets, the pair of aliens utilizing a private communication between their suits, undoubtedly discussing how they wanted to respond. The duchess waited patiently; they were the guests arriving uninvited and imposing upon what little good will the Kalderi had for the Stellar Empire. Rosaria discreetly glanced at Rene, who stood stoically, taking his lead from his fiancee. No one truly knew what they were doing, but they had no better strategy than relying on the intuition and expertise of the only diplomat present.

"We would know the names of everyone on board," one of Kalderi finally announced. Their armored attire was so bulky it was impossible to discern gender with any certainty, but the voice sounded pointedly more feminine than either of the two that had been channeled through their speakers on arrival. It was somewhat reassuring to know the species at least had sexual dimorphism. The similarities between the races would make their negotiations significantly easier. Slavers like Thorne chose to ignore shared traits because differences were what allowed them to claim superiority, subjugate, and reduce others to the status of animals. This ignorant way of viewing the universe was what she hoped would lead to the downfall of the prejudiced.

"This is my Lieutenant Colonel Rene Quentain, my chief of security," Solae introduced, deciding she would disclose his duty as a military attache at a later time. She did want to give the impression she came to their system with any warlike intentions. "My other companions are my handmaiden, Rosaria, and my two bodyguards, Yarue and Dasin," she continued with a gesture to each. The Kalderi gave short nods of acknowledgment but lingered the longest on the two Syshin. There were no records of the Kalderi and Syshin ever having met, although it was possible they had and humanity had simply not been privy to the information.

"Duchess Solae Falia, did you buy these Syshin?" the secondly Kalderi asked candidly, the deeper voice indicative of the individual being male. If she had been the typical noble she would have not hesitated to assert she had proudly, but as lucky would have it she was not, and instead interpreted the query as a thinly veiled accusation against her moral character.

"Absolutely not. They are here by choice and their own free will. I value all life, whether it be human, Syshin, Kalderi, or synthetic. If you were to come to a mutual agreement with Yarue and Dasin for them to stay on one of your planets, they would have my blessing, as I would never prevent them from living their lives as they see fit," she bristled slightly. Typically this sort of first greeting ought to be full of warm smiles or professional detachment, but her flare of anger and indignation proved her words genuine, and conveyed to the Kalderi how serious she was about her philosophy.

"Many of your people own Syshin as slaves," the female Kalderi pointed out, glancing to Yarue and Dasin for any sign they were unwilling captives that were in need of a rescue. All she saw was the two shifting their weight uncomfortably, restless in their garments, apparently bored or frustrated with the formality of the discussion.

"That is true, and something I hope to change," Solae declared with honest passion. "No Syshin has, to the best of my knowledge, ever been appointed as a bodyguard, much less by a duchess. I come to you prepared to forge those new paths with both the Syshin at my side and with you, the Kalderi." The empress had given her legitimacy but she doubted that the ruler of the human empire was prepared for her newest appointment to be quite so bold. There would be ripples when word reached Capella what she had done, negative consequences along with the positive, and a risk of social stigmata. She had made a monumental gamble, but a gamble none-the-less. Taking risks was the only chance for progress, but Rene probably appreciated better than most the price she could potentially pay if her plan failed.

"We will inspect your ship," the male Kalderi declared, satisfied for now with her response. "If the conditions reflect what you say, you will be permitted to land."