Syrenrei

The Betrothed

She was still skeptical as he came towards her side of the car, opened the door, and extended a hand. For a second her eyebrows knitted together in visual scrutiny. If there was ever a perfect time to sever the engagement, it was now. Rhiane could take advantage of the proximity to her home and simply refuse to leave. Although the crown had the upper hand when it came to brute force, any favor they had built in the court of public opinion would be decimated if they were found to be taking her against her will, and the people of her birthplace were much more biased in her favor than anywhere else in New Rome. It was more tempting than she had admitted aloud. They could pack up their house and cross the border, fade into peaceful obscurity, or capitalize on the fact she could convince others she had damaging information about the monarchy if she wasn't left alone. By no means she think it would be a simple endeavor to embark on, but it had the potential to save her from the heartbreak of being perpetually undervalued, of being treated like property instead of a living, breathing human, of being an accessory to the inevitable falling of a kingdom as the waves of rebellion swept over the land. There were a few cards Luke could play and he didn't even seem to realize they were in his figurative deck. Instead of concerning himself over whether or not he was on the precipice of himself being rejected, he carried on with a cavalier arrogance, taking for granted she would stay there by his side until he decided to discard her.

"It's your turn to make me smile," she whispered back in his ear as she leaned forward to step down from the high carriage of the SUV. Almost immediately she was blinded by the light of the sun and the reflective sunglasses of the numerous reporters gathered to observe the couple. A handful had faithfully followed them throughout the tour to have continuous coverage while others were new on the scene. The abrupt shift to a more rural locale had been too difficult for a few media outlets to accommodate on such short notice. Seasoned correspondences had been replaced in the retinue by newscasters from smaller online publications. It was the sort of person Anelle would hate but would be warm, flattering, and more congenial for Rhiane.

At the sight of the pair the crowd's chatter grew louder and she waved to onlookers. Something about seeing familiar faces in the audience was bizarre. Until now everyone she had encountered had been a stranger that had not known anything of her prior to the contest. She had been honest when she confessed that Sebastian was the closest thing she had to a best friend, but there were acquaintances, merchants with which she had done business, neighbors, and persons she knew very casually. It was so jarring to recognize them that it knocked her off her game and she felt her smile faltering slightly. Guilt over deception had not troubled her before nor had manipulation. Everyone participated in lies to some measure, white lies or grandiose, for a wide variety of reasons. There was no reason for her to feel shame for being better at a game that all the world actively played.

What tugged at the edges of her mouth were doubts. The princess elect's masterful proficiency in social situations was because she expertly intermixed truth with fiction. Complete falsehoods were doomed for failure but a carefully crafted omission, misleading comment, or fabrication was indistinguishable when blended into a greater amount of sincerity. Rhiane prided herself on her accomplishment in this skill. Lords and ladies, counts and countesses, dukes and duchesses had been foiled by her finely honed ability, regardless of their overall contempt for the former farmer. The critical element missing now was her happiness. She was so deeply troubled by the bleak prospect of her marriage, by the rebellion wanting her dead, by the traumatic experiences she had been subjected to, by the lack of support she had been able to build, by the presence of an infuriating ex-girlfriend, by all the hostility and criticism aimed in her direction, as well as the knowledge later in the day she would be visiting the graves of her mother and brother, she couldn't quite locate joy inside. Everything had gone to hell so quickly her head was still spinning as her heels touched the ground.

"Your highnesses," one voice called out nearby, "any plans for the market this morning? Are you looking for anyone or anything in particular?" It was a gentleman from a municipality an hour away dressed in a plain, albeit crisp suit. A badge tacked to his lapel identified him as press but he was too far to discern the name or company he represented in particular.

"We're shopping for someone who deserves many more presents than I have time to select for," Rhiane replied easily and cryptically, a smile starting to reappear, just without the brilliance of earlier on their travels. Her body language did not belie her emotions except that she was not as close to Luke physically as she had been during other events that had them standing together. This was not itself necessarily abnormal enough to warrant anyone's notice; if they diverged more obviously, as occurred in the vineyard, then it would be scandalous enough to be blasted in every other editorial.

The Betrothed

Rhiane frowned when Luke refused, at first with no explanation, that he would not be taking up her suggestion of dividing into two groups. She remained frustrated when he finally elaborated on his reasoning, and what was initially a flare of anger dissolved in the wake of disappointment. There was no denying that the princess elect was displeased with his assessment but any outward hostility she held disappeared. What he said made some sense. The town was smaller than other municipalities they had visited on the tour but had more variables. On a whole the populace was composed of less loyalists, the faithful to the crown were less devoted, there had been less time to prepare for their arrival, and the rebellion could more easily disguise themselves as commoners here than they might have in a place with a larger law enforcement presence. Sinking back into her seat she mentally conceded to the points he raised. Sticking together was safer for their entourage, for them, and for the continuance of their mission. Questions would be raised if they split apart- though she was convinced that their charade would not be as well received here as it had been elsewhere and that their farce may be doomed in this specific locale.

"It's my job to pay the price," she murmured more to herself than him as she averted her gaze to stare out the window. Admittedly she had suffered. It was her, not him, that the the resistance sought to make into a martyr. As her fame grew and her successes became more numerous so too did their desire to murder her in the name of the revolution. Before the contest she was a nobody to whom the entire world was apathetic. Now that she had won and was the future queen, there were nearly as many people that wanted her dead than alive; they simply disagreed on the when and why, not the principal itself. For the coup's strength, she must pay the price, for the kingdom's prosperity, she must pay the price, for the heir to the throne, she must pay the price, and for the continuation of the decadent comfort of the nobility she must pay the price.

His touch was so unexpected that she startled when he made contact. Rhiane did not pull away but cautiously turned to meet his stare, confused by the words that tumbled out of his mouth. Both hope and doubt crept into her features. She was hopeful that he spoke to truth, that he reciprocated her affection genuinely, that he had not been indulging because she was a convenient outlet, or because she was a rebound, or because he wanted to manipulate her. What made her apprehensive was how he still could not accept that she was not born into the aristocracy, that she was of humble beginnings, and she would be lying if she claimed she did not sometimes wonder how she compared to the countless women that came before her and understood his gilded life than she ever could. The queen was a cunning figure that moved around human beings like pawns on a chess board. It was not so hard of a leap to make that her son could do the same with the correct motivations.

"I'm not ashamed I was born poor," she told him without hesitation, "and I won't let your mother, Anelle, or anyone else make me feel any more shame for not being born to a rich family than for not being born a blonde. We can't control the circumstances of how we are brought into this world, and I dare anyone to tell me that they could have done better than me with what I was given, especially your ex-girlfriend." It was a bold philosophy not without merit. If he shrugged with indifference every time someone brought up that she was born a farmer, they would lose some of their ammunition. Because he perceived it negatively, because he accepted and embraced their view point, he gave it more validity than it would have otherwise. Dukes and duchesses would be outraged initially but if he persisted in saying, 'So what?' enough, he'd forced their hand into bringing more credible arguments, or being defeated when that is the only criticism they could raise.

"I do like you, Luke, regardless of whether or not you are wearing that sparkling tiara of yours," Rhiane jested lightly. "I like the part of you that is fearless and aggressive like your mother, the part of you that doesn't flinch away from a challenge, that leads with such conviction. But what I also like about you is like Callie, and is like, from what you describe of him, your father, devoted to your principles, and protective, and intuitive, and compassionate. Are you sure Anelle was just sent her as a reminder of high-born ladies, or if she was sent here to remind you of the person your mother wants you to be and Anelle wants you to be? You'll call me crazy but..." she took a deep breath, "I think your mother might be afraid of you changing for more than one reason. She's not ready to retire yet, but if you show that second part of you, the one more like Callie, if you stop caring that I'm low-born, the people will recognize your sincerity and reward you." She was purposefully cryptic, but it wouldn't be too difficult for him to deduce that she was theorizing that a royal with certain qualities could rouse the populace to support them. The queen presumably wanted, for the time being, to remain in power and have control over the next generation, to shape him in her image. There would be a reckoning if her plan did not bear fruit.

"We'll go together then," she sighed, "but if you are just pretending to like me, they won't be as lenient or forgiving of you here. I'm not worried about their loyalty to me." Rhiane's gaze sought his again. "I'm worried about you." She didn't even factor in that she could be punished if her home town was faulted for a stumble in their PR campaign. The queen had no qualms about scolding her son, but Anelle would shift responsibility without a doubt, as she was still trying to curry favor with the handsome, golden-haired man.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"If one of the planets was a terraforming attempt we wouldn't know," Solae was quick to point out, not just to Yarue, but also to Rosaria, Rene, Dasin, and herself. "Failures are proprietary records kept by the companies that facilitated the endeavor, and whose technology was utilized. By Stellar Empire law they are required to provide basic information, such as the exact location and ultimate outcome of the attempt, for the imperial galactic database. As a duchess I would be able to access the network if we were somewhere with an embassy, communications center, or archive, but... as you can imagine, none of those are here." She plopped herself down in a chair and rubbed her temples to encourage herself to think more clearly. Even if the Kalderi had been willing to host a governmental building for the humans on the surface of their world, she did not think the upper echelon of the nobility would be quite so willing to trust the aliens. The peace treaty forged so long ago did not establish them as allies that were privy to the secrets of one another. It would take much, much more than a trading outpost and exchange of artwork on the fringes of their respective territories before either side was willing to place all their proverbial cards on the table.

"Are we going to this HK-421?" Yarue asked, casting a glance to his fellow Syshin, who appeared equally concerned. Neither of them had fostered quite as much of an adventurous spirit as their benefactors, and found their leaps of faith, their courage, and their dogged pursuit of the truth to be equal amounts refreshing and perplexing.

Solae nodded. "Once we're there we'll be able to survey to determine which planet can sustain life and perform a more intensive scan for signs of human life. If there is a settlement I doubt it very large," she mused thoughtfully. The more 'rural' stretches of the universe tended to be one of the two extremes of society: incredibly homogeneous, treating outliers with contempt and derision, with a fascist leader, or one step away from anarchy, each individual instilling themselves with their own sovereignty, too suspicious to form anything resembling a community. Bouradine would not have taken risks with the first because a Kalderi would not be accepted, to put it lightly, and the second was quite rare. Nonetheless, settlements thrived where they were least expected. The empire had absorbed nations that existed for centuries outside their reach, that had flourished without their intervention, who had naturally been formed by members of their species that had ventured out during the early days of colonization and lost contact- or purposefully broke it.

"Do you think it was really a kidnapping?" Rosaria asked. "Why would a merchant kidnap a girl? It doesn't make sense," she said with her lips pressed together in a thin line. It occurred to the linguist she had not yet divulged the theory to anyone except Rene. When she fell into lockstep with her fiance it was easy to forget that the rest of her 'crew' were not unconsciously synchronized.

"Slavery does not make sense," Dasin defensively, bristling slightly. While Rosaria had been born free, her time in captivity had not been on the same scale of oppression as the Syshin; she was being groomed to rule them, and they were being forced to obey, their days filled with being threatened, beaten, or subject to a wide variety of cruel assault. They had been robbed of their culture, torn from their twin partners, stripped of clothing, and made to perform acts that some chose death over. His comment hung heavily in the air in a moment.

"No, I think Bel'sian went along with Bouradine because either she was fleeing her own kin or she is smitten with him. Abduction seems unlikely in these specific circumstances," she shrugged. "But if she was taken for the purposes of enslavement," she continued, turning towards Yarue and Dasin to make eye contact with both, "or if she's changed her mind about leaving, we will bring her back. I stand by my promise to the two of you when I made my offer on Zatis. I won't let a single Kalderi fall prey to mistreatment, nor will I look away if I see any Syshin abused. One of the perks of my new station is I am equipped to do more about it than as a marquise. If we bring peace to the Eastern Cross, I intend to slowly institute reform, beginning on New Concordia. I can't free the Syshin in captivity without the blessing of Empress, but I can declare that every new Syshin born in the Eastern Cross is free." It was a radical preposition but technically possible. Stellar law had a loophole when it came to the subjugated race. If Solae were to specifically designate future Syshin as exclusively free, and forbid them from being enslaved, then it would force an uncomfortable discussion.

"Mia, hail the Kalderi and advise them of our imminent departure. We don't want to collide with another ship that is about to land," she clarified. "Yarue, would you like to pilot our take off? This will be one of the easiest places to practice," the diplomat pointed out. Locations without cleared areas, proper equipment, and preparation were more inherently more difficult. If she wanted to ensure she had a competent co-pilot, she needed to have him eased into the role, and that meant seizing an appropriate opportunity.

"I... will try," Yarue reluctantly agreed. She knew from her interactions with him that his hesitation was not the result of a lack of enthusiasm but a fear that he would disappoint.

"Mia, let the Kalderi know Yarue will be handling the take off," she said with a smile.

"Are you all right?" Rosaria inquired as she furrowed her eyebrows together.

"I am just a little tired," Solae replied dismissively, though it was a headache that posed a larger problem. Delightful as her date had been, and the ball the evening prior, she felt exhausted, every waking moment consumed with knowing she was responsible for a large swath of the empire, solving a murder that she had made no real progress on, steering emancipation of a subjugated race, and brokering better relations with another. She enjoyed her nighttime trysts with Rene, but she was dead on her feet when it meant she didn't have as many hours of sleep as she required. "You can do this," she reassured.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Yes, I'm certain that Bouradine took the monumental risk of spiriting away a young female Kalderi, leaving behind a profitable business, earning himself a tarnished image from the community, setting things in motion that could result in him being hunted down at best by the mate of the lady he 'stole,' only to be thwarted by limitations or disrepair of his ship," Solae said with a roll of her eyes. Given how many preparations she knew the trader must have made in order to successfully take Bel'sian away and not have been located, she was willing to wager any sum of money that they were both very much alive, and that the merchant had anticipated being pursued. A smile curled upwards on her lips as the duchess realized the correlation between the pair they were attempting to locate and her own past with Rene. "Surely you aren't projecting," she mused with a coy smile, "because you and I left New Concordia on an old, run-down slaver's vessel."

"How would you like to proceed, Lady Solae?" Mia purred affectionately in her ear. The diplomat smiled at the AI's tone and mused how comically difficult it would have been to explain to their hosts why a synthetic assistant was so overtly sensual. She had alluded to the computer aboard the Bonaventure openly, but had not volunteered to introduce even Lithyll to her digital companion, not only because the complications it posed, but because she selfishly wanted to keep part of her life slightly private. Being an ambassador meant she had to be open and transparent with more aspects of herself than the average citizen, which made what she did not share that much more precious.

"If he's being cautious, he would have gone to a system that none of the rest use," the linguist theorized, "so reach out to the other docked ships and request, under my authority, they divulge which of those thirty-one systems they have not been to. If they ask for a reason, state that we will being surveying those systems that they do not regularly frequent- that will give them an incentive to keep us away from where they conduct their exchanges."

"An excellent idea, Lady Solae," Mia cooed compliantly over the communication device. A dress did not afford her a consistent place to put any sort of external transmitter or receiver, so she had a small ear bud that functioned as both and could be toggled off and on by verbal command. The noblewoman had configured it to have a 'safe word' so that if she was in danger it would come on and send ferry an alert to Mia on the other end of the figurative line.

"Further limit the parameters to systems with a habitable planet, but expand your scope for habitable to include outside of the human comfort zone, and what is technically feasible, if less than ideal in terms of atmospheric conditions and climate." Desperation could have compelled a couple- if that is what they were- to retreat to somewhere that would be traditionally written off by colonists with higher standards. Constructing a bio-dome was unlikely by her estimation. Even with modern technology they were costly regardless of whether or not it was for a municipality or a single residence. Not only that, it required an expertise that no trader possessed, and was labor-intensive to install. Admittedly Bouradine had been meticulous, but he wouldn't have invested vast sums of credit to obtain a bio-dome, whose side effect would be creating a trail of workers to follow, when there were alternatives available.

"That will take Mia a bit to complete since she'll have to reach out to all the traders," she observed, looking towards the vast ocean. "While we wait we can either go on a date or spend some time studying Kalderi. Any preference?" the golden-haired woman teased, prodding him in the ribs with her elbow. As honored guests they had a rare opportunity to stroll around without an escort or suspicion.

The Betrothed

To say that Rhiane had a lack of enthusiasm for their schedule was an understatement. For once it was not his petulant behavior or condescending attitude that was the cause for concern, but rather the setting of her home town. As much as she genuinely loved the placed where she was born, she was worried about their reception of Luke and his entourage in particular. The people here had no illusions about the flaws of the government and crown, and while they were not all rebellious dissidents, they had suffered under the faults, and been systematically ignored when it was convenient. Many more here died from the plague than her mother and brother. Perhaps the resistance had not gained a strong foothold here yet, but if the heir to the throne paraded himself around, unsympathetic to their plight or in denial of the bias he had been given by subordinates, it would be disastrous. The announcement of one of their own as princess elect had gained back some of the lost favor, and instilled slightly more loyalty, but the battle for their fealty was far from won.

"It will be harder to convince them than anywhere else we've been," she mused quietly. Nolan and Tobias might be able to overhear, but it wasn't as if they weren't aware that the engaged couple had their complications. The facade of romantic love was a tale sold to the masses; on the other hand, the nobility was comforted by the fact it was was a charade. They simultaneously had to sell the concept of being madly infatuated with one another to the majority of the populace while reassuring the privileged minority it was only a political arrangement for the betterment of their society. Royal staff in particular were aware of the dichotomy, they just did not expect her to be so willful or practical when her predecessors were enthralled by beauty, wealth, and prestige. History had taught them she should be madly in love with Luke and she was reluctant to reveal the reality.

She let silence fall until they reached the marketplace and the vehicle came to a rolling stop. It was only then, when they were supposed to disembark, she let out a heavy sigh. "Nolan, Tobias, could you give us a moment of privacy?" she asked politely. Rhiane anticipated a protest from Nolan but, either because he sensed the prince would agree, or because he didn't want to be blamed for another fight, or he wanted to avoid listening to their discussion, he gave a curt nod and both men stepped out of the vehicle, closing the doors behind them. Outside a crowd was beginning to gather as they realized who the expensive motorcade arriving belonged to.

"I'm not accusing you of not doing your research, but I want to warn you these people won't be as fooled as easily as the other places we've been," she said as she ran a hand through her hair thoughtfully. "They knew me before I left for the contest and entered the capital. Lying to them will be much more difficult. And unlike our other stops, there is a much higher percentage of the population here that is apathetic or upset with your mother, and they'll be looking for any sign that you're a fraud. You could be perfect and I'd wager they'd assume the worst. I just want this to go well for you, so..." the former farmer took a deep breath. "If it would be easier we can split up. Nolan doesn't like me, but if it would make you feel better, we could swap bodyguards if you absolutely can't allow me to spend time alone with Tobias."

What she was trying to delicately state was that she knew that Luke did not have any affection to her. The media had their suspicions. In person, with an audience that didn't like him, that was invested in her, the future king had much resting on his shoulders. Without sincerity he would have to be an excellent actor. In the best of moods- which he was not in now- he had not been award-winning. As heartbreaking as it was to feel rejected, to know she'd never be good enough for him, and that he'd choose the side of the aristocracy over her every time, she didn't want to demolish his image in one fell swoop. She had alternatives to marrying him now that she had become the darling of New Rome. Rich and powerful as he was, he seemingly had one path, and if it was ruined she did not want to be the one responsible.

Tempted as she was to clear the air about the painting, if he couldn't figure out that Nolan didn't care for her, and would side with him, and that he held Callista on a pedestal, then that was his own fault. Tobias was the only person in her proverbial corner that treated her with honestly, dignity, and respect. A frown flickered onto her face as she realized how much simpler it would have been if her childish crush was on someone who was so kind, patient, and considerate, rather than someone arrogant, haughty, and emotionally unavailable.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

During the years of her youth she had never been the most academically gifted student; all members of the aristocracy were enhanced compared to the average man, but she had not as adept with the sciences as the others, and not every subject captured her interest as much as linguistics very obviously did. Despite their disappointment that she would never be a biological engineer, one of the most prestigious professions in the Stellar Empire, the late parents of the duchess had quickly realized that she surpassed the children of others when it came to social aptitude. Put into colloquial terms she could read people. When measured against her contemporaries she fared better at establishing a rapport, discerning lies, coaxing the truth, and intuitively perceiving their emotional state. For a few moments she studied the trader, quietly assessing, and debating the best way to convince him to divulge the suspicions she knew were lingering in the back of his mind.

By her estimation, there were three different scenarios whose end result would have been Bel'sian leaving the world in a crate. The first was that she was attacked and involuntarily entered the container by force. This was incredibly unlikely for a variety of reasons, including that any altercation would have been loud, there was no known provocation, evidence could be left behind of the scuffle, and an aggressive abduction would guarantee deadly retribution. The seedy underbelly of the outlying fringes of humanity would be reluctant to take a slave from the fearsome Kalderi and earn their ire, and it would put Bouradine in much more trouble than he could ever gain. The second scenario was that Bel'sian was incapacitated, but this would require extensive physical and medical knowledge of their species. From what they had gleaned, Bouradine did have the resources for such an ambitious plot. Brilliant scientists had spent nearly a decade trying to create pharmaceutical equivalents for Syshin when they were initially subjugated. It was statistically impossible that a merchant would have stumbled onto the discovery of a perfect cocktail to knock out a young, female Kalderi, in the correct dosage, without bringing her harm.

Murder was entirely out of the question as far as she was concerned. There was no motive; Bouradine did not have a reputation for possessing a temper, and even if he did, she couldn't fathom anything he was kill someone over. The mere implication of murder destroyed his business opportunities, and he had been here long enough to appreciate how he needed to remain emotionally stable. A verbal altercation alone would have ejected him from the surface. Additionally, if there was any reason Bel'sian could have threatened him or goaded him into a rage unintentionally, disposing of the body by taking it with him was an extreme response. Corpses were shot out of airlocks not infrequently to cover up heinous acts because of how hard it was to locate one in the vast depths of space. Bouradine could have taken a trip out for a couple hours and 'dumped' her if she was dead without anyone the wiser. Not only that, Caperelli himself admitted the cleaning out of the shop indicated this had been planned for quite some time, so whatever occurred could not have been a crime of passion so to speak.

With a soft, bemused expression she smiled at Caperelli. "Oh, my dear sir, I think you know exactly why she frequented his shop and bought so little," Solae ventured. With a certain tone it would have been accusatory, but she was light and airy, as if laughter were trapped behind her lips. "Why, I'm sure you dealt with it a few times yourself." It was flattery, a stroke to his ego, which did not go unnoticed by the older man.

"I'm not sure what you're suggesting," he puffed, trying vainly to hide his grin. "I can't possibly know what would bring her there so often... but perhaps something similar has happened to me before," Caperelli confessed with feigned humility. Puffing out his chest slightly, he toyed with some of the threads of his shirt.

"Bouradine still had years left ahead of him here, he wasn't what any of you would consider successful enough to 'cash out,'" she pointed out sweetly. It was true. The trader in question was still in his prime, decades younger than his peer with whom they had the pleasure of conversing. "Do you know if he had any family?" the duchess inquired, her line of thought becoming increasingly clear. Once they eliminated all the possibilities only one viable one remained- Bel'sian had left of her own accord. Whether it was romance, or a platonic relationship between two kindred souls, or a man simply spiriting away a discontent alien that wanted to see more of the universe, they weren't tracking down a fugitive. If she had to venture a guess, it was the former, because love catalyzed everyone it touched to take wild risks and make huge changes to their lives. Caperelli must have considered the same thing.

"No, no family that he ever mentioned to me," the gentleman readily replied.

"Any idea where he went to procure his art pieces?" she prodded. "Not everyone comes here surely. Most of you must have a meeting place for your suppliers, somewhere out of the way, but not so far its inconvenient. I can't imagine the Kalderi want traffic in this system at all hours from the type of individuals that might be bringing your colleague's inventory."

Caperelli shifted in his cushion, tilting his head to the side. "Well, usually that's not the sort of thing we tell each other, but he was always going on about how he had found somewhere fascinating where they had a terra-forming failure. Not anywhere I've been," he added with a shrug. Maps would omit this sort of data since once a planet had such a failure it was deemed uninhabitable and of no interest to the populace. Exploration or access to records related to the endeavor would be the best methods for locating such a place. No one here was of stature within the empire, so Bouradine must have found the failure during his travels.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I'm not sure that we have a choice," Solae said, seeing the logic in his argument but at a loss of how to mitigate the danger. "We can't very well send Yarue and Dasin; even on a world governed by the Kalderi they are unlikely to show proper respect to either of them, and they won't take Rosaria seriously," the duchess explained to paramour in the ancient imperial language that they, as well as all the children of nobility, were required to learn. He had spoken it before so she knew he was proficient enough that they could carry on a short, private conversation in the presence of others when necessary. Rude as it was to purposefully speak a tongue in which others were not fluent in their presence, she thought it was even more cruel to spell out why only she and Rene were equipped to question the traders, and to acknowledge the discrimination of their civilization aloud.

"What about a disguise?" the teenager proposed. "Didn't you wear one on Zatis?"

Pondering it for a moment the linguist shrugged, acknowledging it had potential, though there were some complications that they had now that did not exist the last time she went incognito. "It could be worth a try, but the Kalderi are unused to deception, and it would be an imposition upon them to ask them to keep me a secret or mislead the rest. Soon news will spread of our arrival, with only the best of intentions of course, and the traders will no longer be in the dark about my identity. For all we know, they have already been made aware. It would have to be a very compelling disguise," Solae added, seeing the discouragement on Rosaraia's face. "It would have to be good enough to fool the Kalderi we met last night well enough they wouldn't recognize me."

"What would happen if you are recognized?" Dasin asked in his deep voice as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next. He and his fellow Syshin had made it known they were not enthusiastic fans of the aliens' culture- they barely stood still when they were anywhere that they could see vast expanses of water since it was so unsettling to them- but they were even more apprehensive about Duke Tan. Both had heard enough about him to be wary. If his mercenaries on Zatis were any indication, he posed a serious threat to not only their mistress, but a great many lives. Any man who executed his own kind simply because they might not be willing to betray their leader, or who were inconvenient obstacles, was horrifying. Not every Syshin was virtuous, but they did not even have names for the bloody ambition of someone so morally bankrupt.

"The former duke has quite the reward for my capture, and I presume any information that is sent to him will also earn generous compensation. Now that we've been able to warn the empress of his treachery and I've been appointed to his position, inheriting his holdings... I do not know him well, but enough to know he'll want to make a retaliatory gesture," she said, dropping her voice slightly as they began to make their way back towards the Bonaventure for a change of clothes. The Kalderi were almost unfailingly kind, but Ten's supplies would be more useful if they wanted to create a costume for the golden-haired aristocrat.

"I don't understand," Yarue said flatly with a hint of irritation in his voice. Whether he was annoyed at himself or Solae for being vague and obtuse was ironically unclear.

"It's all speculation," she emphasized, "but he might try to claim me as his wife to legitimize himself now that I've attained a higher status, he might want to parade me around as a prisoner as a warning to the rest of the empire, he might seek to take out his frustrations through sheer cruelty for the setbacks we've caused him. It might be worth seeing if we can intercept some communication from his loyalists," Solae mentioned to Rene the more she pondered about the issue. "He must know what we've done, so the bulletins he send out will be different, and we might be able to glean how his plan has shifted."

"What about you?" Rosaria asked the soldier in question pointedly, "Are you going to wear a disguise too?

"We might still have some of those furs that Dasin and Yarue wore back on Zatis," Solae jested playfully. Not only would they not fit her fiance, they would be far too revealing, and be distracting to the traders in all the wrong ways. Hell, she would assume something was amiss if anyone strolled up to her business with such attire. "Mia," she called out as they reached their vessel, a wonderfully familiar sight that soothed frayed nerves. "I want you to document every human ship in orbit or landed. We're going to need to conduct some interviews."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

While she had hoped that Totlya's tale might better illuminate the inter-cultural predicament, it confused the duchess more than it lent any clarification. Despite her mounting questions she was patient and silent while she waited for the younger Kalderi to finish. Long ago she had learned that people were seldom completely truthful, not always purposefully, but because perception was so heavily influenced by their individual bias. Members of the embassy and the aristocracy that engaged in certain social roles underwent exercises in an attempt to eliminate their skewed sense of reality, yet it was never really purged. Glancing towards Andalyll and Lithyll, the linguist was beginning to appreciate that these were universal struggles not limited to their species alone, that their race was not able to divest them from their emotions perfectly and passively.

"Forgive me for asking," she began slowly, "but if Bouradine was off ill repute, why was he allowed to have a shop?" The answer would have come out when they spoke with the human merchants, but she wanted to confirm some of her suspicions here if she was able, and avoid having to possibly insult the man's peers. Potentially they would have best clues as to where he had apparently vanished. That they hadn't shared anything with the Kalderi themselves could be for a variety of reasons, but the one that sprang to mind was that they wanted to put as much distance between themselves and the transgressor, and if they admitted he was a friend of any sort they might fear retribution from the aliens. For the exclusive few that were allowed on the planet it was not violence that they feared, but more likely being incriminated by proximity or familiarity, and then being ejected from a profitable arrangement. Above all else the brokers valued coin.

"His true nature was not known," Totlya impetuously replied before he could be stopped by either of his seniors.

A knowing glance was exchanged between Solae and Rene, who she knew had come to the same conclusion: Bouradine was no pirate. Trading with the Kalderi was a privilege that his colleagues would not let be jeopardized. There was peace between the races, but a treatise was not a guarantee of warm relations, impunity for crimes, or continued business. Almost certainly the man in question had been relatively upstanding, thus why he was given the honor of being here, and why he had not been ousted by the others. When news spread about the abduction everyone had gone into self-preservation mode, probably genuinely surprised by what he had done, and quickly disavowed him to save their own skin. The Kalderi were not so innocent as be ignorant of the concept of lying, or that humans could be deceptive, but she doubted they truly understand the complex nuances of human civilization. Issues were dealt with collectively as a team in their culture; they would not have the same type of selfishness prevalent.

"She could have gone along willingly," the duchess began, earning her an expression of anger on Totlya's features, "but been misled about where she was being taken, for what purpose, or for how long. We will do our best to find her," she promised, which was much as she would guarantee. They would return her as well if possible, but not by force if she resisted or argued that it was for her own benefit that she left in the first place. As dedicated as Solae was to improving the rapport between Kalderi and the empire, if not the empress herself, she would not compromise her values to do so- not that she thought Lithyll or Andalyll expected that she would be callous. The latter of the pair was reserved and more restrained what he had revealed to them, but she had to assume he trusted her to some degree to be so accommodating in facilitating this meeting, and that she could infer he had faith in her judgment. Sending her on a mission to investigate a lost female Kalderi would be dangerous if they thought she might harm their citizen.

"Would it be possible to have a list made of the other human merchants with shop near Bouradine? And human ships that were here at the time she was taken? I'd like to compare it against our vessel's database," she explained, spreading her palms in a placating gesture. "Rene, myself, and our artificial intelligence assistant, Mia, should be able to narrow down the routes he would have taken when he departed if we can narrow it down to where he's been before. It's also possible," she continued, "that the other humans here might know something without realizing they know." It was a kinder way to assert that the wrong queries were posed, with the best intentions, although she still believed they had been less forthcoming with the Kalderi than they would be with fellow members of the human race.

The Betrothed

"There is nothing crazy about that tradition," Rhiane asserted definitely when he related how he used to visit his father's grave to drink and talk about his life. While she was unwilling to admit it aloud, she thought it was much more brave (and healthy) than her cowardly refusal to visit the burial sites of her own family, as if she were running from the reality of their deaths, terrified to deal with the lingering guilt, trauma, and grief. Confessing as much felt like a step too far- especially with their stoically silent guard audience- and so she abstained from further commentary. It wasn't as if Luke particularly cared what she thought of his actions or beliefs. He had proved on numerous occasions that the only person he truly answered to was himself.

Torn between openly empathizing with him or trying to keep up her facade of strength, she was relieved when he allowed the subject to be changed, and was genuinely surprised at his suggestion of having one of her paintings chosen as a gift for Callie. The princess elect opened her mouth to object that he needed to put in more effort to find something to his sister's liking, but her words failed to materialize beyond internal thoughts. Sending the teenager one of her pieces, even if they were amateur by her own assessment, was not all that different from him perusing the offerings of a shop and shipping some home. Rhiane had herself purchased artwork during their tour as presents for others. It would be beyond hypocritical for her to claim that she was free to do so, but if he did the same it was not considerate or thoughtful enough. Perhaps if he tried to delegate, asking that red-haired witch to throw together a care package, then she would have the basis for honest critique.

Quietly she mulled over the possibility. Most of her reluctance in having her paintings in the palace was because she believed it would be just another avenue with which she'd be attacked. As a low-born interloper that was already barely tolerated by the very people that needed her, she did not want to expose any vulnerabilities, or give them fuel for the figurative flame. When it came to a physical external threat Luke had shown he would protect her, but socially and emotionally it was a gamble. In private he could be kind and sweet, but in the presence of others he was less reliable as they increased in number and stature. Rhiane would concede he had defended her at the dinner party, but that was still a far cry from shielding her from the opinions of a robust staff of aristocratic servants, friends, royal advisors, or his mother should they come across her impressionist expressions.

"What do you think, Tobias?" she called out. "I want another opinion. Do you think it would cause trouble if Callie was given one of my paintings?" Luke was so fond of the princess she was confident he wouldn't see the faults in the young woman... at least not while he had an ulterior motive in his mind. Nolan was intensely loyal to Luke alone, which bound him to echo his sentiments, so the cousin of the heir was the best hope she had for someone at least minimally less biased.

Tempting as it was to sabotage his cocky relative, Tobias liked Callie more than he held a grudge against her brother. While everyone else was condescending, eager to order him around, or belittle him for being bound by blood to the wrong side of the kingdom's lineage, she was warm, friendly, and congenial. In a single day she treated him with more respect than Luke did in a year or more. No one else was better equipped to appreciate Rhiane's artwork, in his estimation, and would so vigorously advocate on its behalf. Though they had the same two parents, the siblings shut down dissidence in opposing ways: the elder by being so cruelly authoritative he could not be questioned, the younger by making anyone who would argue feel like the most horrific villain to ever set foot on Earth.

"Princess Callista would be an excellent recipient," he succinctly replied without any elaboration as to how he arrived at his conclusion.

"After we get back we can look at them together," the former farmer promised, "if you really think she'd like the style. You're not getting out of writing her a note to go with it, though. If you write her a little something on the back, or a card, she'd cherish it forever," she pointed out, certain of the veracity of her statement. It had not gone unnoticed how heavily he relied on his device or subordinates to ferry and deliver messages. Picking up a pen, an actual pen, and scribbling out any contrite message would be more precious than having a typed, digital, impersonal version. Again she was reminded of what of Edwin's things she found more valuable after his passing. Callie had no reason to be so obsessively sentimental, but time was relentless in its onward march, and eventually they would find themselves separated from one another by circumstances. Tactile proof of their loving relationship would endure longer than their youth or health.

The Betrothed

Considering how she had yelled at him earlier that morning in frustration, Rhiane did not expect Luke to be in a mood to speak with her, much less compliment the arrangements in her hands. Before she remembered she was mad at him a soft smile spread across her face and she glanced down at the fragrant blooms with a wistful expression. She wanted to believe that they looked like respectable bouquets, that to the average person they were lovely aesthetically, that their sweet smell could compete with flowers imported from abroad, but she doubted it was true. Still, she appreciated her fiance's reassurance and it was just enough to make her warm to a conversation rather than brooding in silence and irritation.

"When we were all little, we didn't have money to buy presents, not just because we were poor but because we were kids, you know?" Whether or not the crown prince actually had the same situation as a youth she was not certain, but perhaps he could logically understand her point, and follow the explanation she was weaving verbally. Child aristocrats might have access to their parents' line of credit earlier in life, but it was dubious that they were given the latitude to make purchases as toddlers, or even when they began their first years of education. "Mom always tried to make our birthdays and holidays special, so we wanted to do something for her, so we'd make her cards, or art projects, or bouquets from whatever we could find, and she always pretended it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. We got older and she admitted to us she couldn't always read Gerard's handwriting, and Edwin's drawings were impossible to decipher, but that the real purpose of a present was to show someone you were thinking of them, that you cared, and she could see how hard we tried."

Sighing and leaning back in her seat, she glanced out the window. It was harder than she expected to visit home. Much as she would like to blame her conflicted emotions or someone other than herself, such as her father and brother with whom she was still arguing, it was her own fault she had unresolved feelings. The Black family household had been a place of great joy, love, and acceptance. Winters had been passed curled up on the rug in front of their fireplace trading made-up stories about ages long past, ribbing each other about idiosyncrasies, laughing at terrible jokes. No matter how tired they were from the fall harvest they would eat together in the evenings to boost each other's morale. Summer brought the oppressive sun and they would always have a huge jar of aloe in the kitchen where they would rub each other down when they inevitably got burned from not covering part of a shoulder or leg. Spring was her favorite, however, because that was when they had the most celebrations, when three of them had birthdays, when their conversations were light and smiles spread infectiously. If only their happiness had not been permanently marred by tragedy she might have still been grinning from ear to ear. Somehow she doubted she'd ever be that jubilant again- especially in the palace, where everyone was against her, where she was unwelcome, and she was only a novelty meant to be bred before slaughtered.

"I wanted to bring something to their... to their graves," Rhiane said, struggling over the word, "to show them.... I don't really buy into there being an afterlife, but I wanted to honor their memory with something personal." In truth she was a very sentimental person. She had kept her distance from her 'partners' of the past because she was self-aware of this fact. The princess elect knew that a singular encounter could be physical only, but if she saw someone repeatedly she would become romantically intimate, and then she would be woefully vulnerable. The death of two family members and the heavy reliance of the surviving two made her more needy than she'd admit, and she was terrified of getting attached, of becoming dependent and reliant upon someone that could abuse her trust. It was why she was thankful that Luke hadn't tried to woo her with trinkets and baubles; if he did, she'd be drawn to him more than she already was, and it would be that much more painful he didn't reciprocate her unspoken affections.

"You should get something for your sister while you're in town," she advised, subtly redirecting the conversation. "You saw how happy she was with my gift basket. If you got her something, anything, to show you're thinking of her, I think she'd be thrilled. I know we don't have the fancy shops of the capital, but her excitement over my gift proves she's not a girl who cares how much something costs, she just cares about the meaning behind it. Edwin and I used to be really close and I'd do anything to have the opportunity to show him how much I loved him. If I were you, I'd cherish every moment, and make sure she knows you do," Rhiane added gently, not trying to chastise, but impart what little wisdom she had.

Little did she know Callista had tried earlier that morning to suggest Luke buy his betrothed an engagement ring. They were, without knowing, two figurative peas in a pod, each trying to selflessly help the other in similar ways. While the only daughter of the queen was trying to improve her future sister-in-law's relationship, the former farmer was sincerely advocating that the teenager have her brother's attention from afar.