Syrenrei

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"What do you think it means?" Rosaria inquired, ever the inquisitive young woman. While the duchess was reluctant to make assumptions about the internal thoughts of any other intelligent life form, she was relatively certain the teen was eager for confrontation in equal measure to how much Solae and Rene were anxious. To Rosaraia it was still something of a novelty. For the adults, however, they had enough experience to be cautious and apprehensive. The diplomat was optimistic that the encounter would go well, but the appearance of a military escape pod was an unforeseen wrinkle, and suggested that this would not go nearly as smoothly as she secretly wished it would.

"This doesn't change anything," the former marquise quickly interjected to head off any inquiries if this meant they would advance with their sidearms drawn. The few weeks spent together, as well as recent prodding about a 'real weapon,' made her anticipate the next unspoken question. It was still only one escape pod. She didn't want to jeopardize a peaceful exchange of pleasantries by having their guns aggressively in hand. Privately she assessed that there was little to no chance whatever soldier stole the pod would be on par with her fiance's skills. Modest as he was, time and time again he had proven himself to be an exceptional combatant, and she was confident it would play in her favor in the future as well. It was much easier for her to make demands (and excuses) for keeping him by her side if were was a tangible benefit that he provided. Had she fallen in with a tradesman or craftsman it would be next to impossible to include him in her daily duties until after marriage.

"What is the allegiance of your military?" Yarue asked after a moment of contemplation. He had been briefed on the coup staged by Duke Tan, but needless to say he had no education on the empire on a whole, and had little knowledge about the intricacies of their structure. Both he and Dasin were still trying to wrap their head around the brewing galactic war. Syshin was a peaceful species on a whole whose actual physical fighting with each other was limited and hardly ever to the death. The very concept of killing each other for power was a foreign and had to be explained multiple times.

"With the exception of Rene, the imperial marines on New Concordia were murdered outright, no doubt because of their unwavering fealty to our empress. Duke Tan does have troops, and some of them may be imperial marines, but it's unlikely he's had as much success gathering their support as others. We're far enough from the battles that I don't think they will know what's happened in the Eastern Cross yet and, even if we assume they did... it doesn't make much sense for a soldier to defect here, by himself, on an abandoned planet. Whomever used that pod being unaligned is the most probable scenario," she mused aloud.

There was a small chance she would have authority still over the wayward citizen that had touched down here. The armed forces indoctrinated respect for figures in the upper strata of the society more than most. If that failed, whomever used the military escape pod may defer to Rene, if not for his rank than because of his service and skill. Perhaps it was naive of her to try to cling to her optimism in arriving at the conclusion that the appearance of a detachment of an imperial destroyer would not prove detrimental. Surely the influence of a treasonous narcissist would not work against them here in the farthest reaches of their sprawling civilization.

The terrain proved to be more a hindrance than their discovery. While Rene could easily keep his pace, and Rosaria to a lesser degree, Solae's genetic predisposition to athleticism had been mitigated somewhat by her sedentary lifestyle. Yarue and Dasin fared the best on the rocky downward slope; their race was unaccustomed to the tundra, but they had evolved to be able to scale much less hospitable landscapes on their homeworld, where the weather created towering dunes and mountains of stone rubble were more prevalent than grassy plains. Dasin subtly moved to Solae's opposite side from Rene to silently prepare to help catch her if she stumbled, not wanting to injure her pride or impose on Rene's role as her 'mate.'

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I'm not the first official Imperial contact," she objected, "it was settled before. I would argue technically the people who settled it before had the right to name it then, regardless of whether or not there was officially an empire," Solae pointed out. They could narrow down the possibilities of what year the world they had landed on was terraformed, but not with absolute precision. In the olden days the process was not nearly as efficient as the present day technology. Their ancestors might have had to weight a considerable amount of time between beginning their endeavor and actually determining that their end result was safe enough to visit. The modern era had sped up the process, though it was widely joked that the bureaucracy involved did not hasten how long it took from inception until clearance was given for building.

"Is it possible to find its old name?" Yarue inquired curiously, genuinely uncertain of the limitations of their records. Because the Syshin were less 'advanced' as a civilization they did not have the robust databases of their oppressors. They had been discovered by wayward explorers centuries before they would be able to invent a ship that could traverse their solar system, much less be capable of intergalactic travel. This was one of the many reasons their prowess did not given them an advantage against the species that subjugated them. Truly they had never stood a chance against the innovative weaponry that came after first contact, when morally bankrupt attaches realized that they could be laborers, and giving them freedom or basic rights could be circumvented.

"It's very unlikely," Solae conceded after a moment's pause for thought. Rene wasn't wrong in his assertion that she had the unique privilege and authority to grant a new name to these lands, it was just that she felt strangely reluctant. Some part of her felt it was ethically wrong, even if the wild beasts, mountains, and seas did not care one way or another. If anything it was more disrespectful to have a designation of letters and numbers. Idly she chewed on the inside of her cheek. An arrogant man would name the first remarkable discovery he made after himself. To the golden-haired woman it was the least desirable of all her choices to the point she would quite literally rather name it 'Rock' or something similarly absurd.

For their part both Dasin and Yarue had fallen characteristically silent again, but Rosaria, who had never before stretched her proverbial wings, leapt at the opportunity in front of her. "I can name it instead if you don't want to," she offered as if it was a selfless gesture. She was fooling no one except perhaps herself. The Syshin exchanged knowing looks and she saw the edges of her valiant escort's lips twitch in either amusement, frustration, or a mixture of both.

"I appreciate it," Solae began graciously as they continued to walk, and she could see a hopeful overeager glint in her younger companion's eyes, "but there's a certain protocol to these things. Either we'll follow the tradition or..." she let the unfinished thought hang in the air playfully. The men in the group didn't let it bother them. Sooner or later it would be resolved, one way or another, and none of the three were particularly invested in what the final decision was; it wasn't as if their quest would be altered by such a detail. Rosaria, whose patience was wafer-thin, stared at her incredulously waiting for the next word. The duchess's acting talents shown as she feigned a prolonged lapse.

After slightly more than thirty seconds but less than a minute Rosaria, flushed, interjected, "Or what?"

"Oh, well," Solae started, noting a sly smirk from Rene who took a certain measure of pleasure seeing her tease the demanding teenager, "If we aren't going to follow tradition we can defy it purposefully to make a statement of sorts. Many, many centuries ago there was willful social or civil disobedience that was more commonplace. You wouldn't necessarily break any laws in a tangible way that might merit punishment, but you could sidestep them, or ignore ones that relied on patterns of behavior to gain acceptance within the community.

There was only one answer that Rosaria would give to such a query, which Solae had shrewdly anticipated. "We're not sticking with tradition, right?" The excitement in her voice belied the fact that she mistakenly believed that she, a girl not yet through puberty, might name the second planet she had been on after Zatis, the third in her young life.

"If we're going to thumb our noses at tradition to make a statement, we need to craft it carefully, so that it has lasting impact and shines a light on injustices. Dasin, Yarue, what would you name a place like this?" she asked the pair of former slaves. They were both startled out of their passive listening and were so shocked at the gravity of the suggestion that Dasin stumbled over his two feet briefly before catching himself and righting his posture.

Expecting they could be there for hours, if not days, weeks, months, or years, trying to persuade one of the Syshin that her offer was genuine, she laughed lightly and smiled reassuringly. "We'll name it Huodan, a word that means togetherness and community in their tongue. I couldn't possibly name it after all the lives lost on New Concordia," she explained in a more muted, less jovial tone, "and my parents are out of the question. They quite enjoyed their privacy and adventuring such as we have would not have appealed to them at all. Instead I elect to christen this world with a name that reflects both our goals and also commemorates our success in finding each other."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Why can't I have a real weapon?" Rosaria objected. She was a teenager but the petulance in her voice was vaguely reminiscent of a whining child half her age. The duchess wished she could have said she had never heard or seen an adult throw a tantrum over a perfectly reasonable decision; the truth was a great number of the aristocracy had honed their skills in being overtly upset into a fine art. Her recent promotion fortunately meant that noblemen and women would be more reluctant to show this side of themselves. The lower one was in the complex socio-political strata of the empire, the greater the chance of becoming the target of the frustrations of the a lord or lady, regardless of whether it was an irate tirade, chastisement, or unwarranted punishment. Such petty maneuvers of the court were distant enough that the diplomat found herself smiling at the similarity rather becoming annoyed herself.

"That weapon is real enough," Solae pointed out. She had secured one pistol (for lack of a better term) for herself and her younger counterpart. Unable to bring herself to carry a lethal firearm, hers and Rosaria's were loaded with exceedingly potent tranquilizers. In her heart of hearts she knew that Rene would be more comfortable with her being able to defend herself with more force. By her own admission she had nearly been dragged off by slavers once, almost been apprehended by Duke Tan's mercenaries on Zatis, and had to threaten a man that held her paramour captive. The need, coupled with recent training, was a perfect scenario for her to take the plunge, but it was a step she could not take. Merely thinking of having that sort of power under her fingertips made her queasy. She did not trust her judgment in life and death a fraction as much as she inherently trusted her fiance's.

"This is bullshit," Rosaria grumbled. Yarue and Dasin were visibly rankled at the criticism, which was veritable slander against their mistress, but the linguist put up a calming hand and smiled.

"Well then, you can spend some of your free time composing a thorough argument for why you have earned the right for a 'real weapon' as you put it. I'll accept it in either written or verbal format, and I will review it with Rene when it's completed," she said with a grin that made it clear she was enjoying this far too much. For someone as gifted with all the methods of communication it was a fun exercise to undertake. To a recently freed youth that had come to resent aspects of her formal education it was absolute torture. It was not an assignment without merit. Solae wanted Rosaria to explore her emotions, not dismiss them as Thorne had taught her, so long as she took the time to realize that not every feeling deserved action.

Honestly it was an unspoken agreement between the adults that Rosaria was not ready for a lethal weapon. Yarue and Dasin had the physical prowess to defend themselves. Something about them made Solae have unwavering faith that they were sufficiently responsible not to abuse the 'privilege' of being allowed in the firearms cache. None of the four could say the adolescent had yet earned their confidence she wouldn't be reckless, excitable, or panicked depending. Thorne had groomed her to take over a criminal enterprise. From what they had seen, however, she had no experience with the world outside her tutor. They were just acclimating her to the universe and encouraging empathy. Handing her a loaded plasma rifle could undo their progress and the Syshin were skeptical that she didn't have a ruthless streak underneath her trauma.

The wilderness posed a challenge to the crew of the Bonaventure unlike other planets. When they had touched down on an oceanic planet there was a sea separating the ship from its resident duo. On this deserted world there were forests, mountains, and other obstructions that could cause interference, without the benefit of the infrastructure they had found on Zatis or with the Kalderi that allowed quick, efficient contact with the vessel and its resident AI. Freak weather, unknown creatures, and towering constructs meant that it would be difficult to reach Mia unless they found a better connecting link.

With the assistance of Mia, Solae had repurposed some scrap pieces of technology to fabricate an improved relay. It must much less subtle than her regular communication devices, but wouldn't be as hindered by structures or hills, depending on how far they had to travel given that the two they were visiting could flee to remain hidden. A cord of metal and plastic curled over one ear and up onto her temple with synthesized silicone helping it stay in place. A small visor could be rotated up above her hairline or over her left eye if she decided that computer analysis was required. Fashionable socialites would be horrified at the sight of her. Caring nothing for aesthetics, and even less what her peers would think of her reliance on a machine, she had been excited about testing out how it would affect their exploration.

"Are you sure that is... safe?" Dasin inquired with what she knew to be a Syshin expression of concern on his features.

"I am ethically barred from assisting humans in manufacturing, using, or maintaining any item that could cause harm to another human unless in self defense," the AI interjected in a seductive purr over the speakers.

"That is her way of saying yes, it is safe. She can't give us absolutes, since mathematically there is always a minuscule probability that things could could awry, but it's statistically negligent. I'll be fine," Solae assured, putting her hand on Dasin's forearm with a friendly smile. He relaxed a little. When they had first met neither Syshin welcomed contact of any sort. Within a week they had started to warm to Solae in particular, who used it as a way to express affection, or convey a positive message when words were insufficient.

"If you would lead the way, kind sir," she added, looking to Rene. It was safer for him to "run point" but she played it off with some humor so as not to alarm her companions. Their theory that the two they were seeking were lovers was still in the front of her mind, but the closer they got to them the more apprehensive she was that they had misjudged the circumstances completely.

The Betrothed

"Mmmmm," and a coy smile was the only indication she gave that she had, in fact, been called a confusing woman. Admittedly this declaration was typically made with much more unkind words, especially by her brother. Not every one night stand partner had been willing to part ways when their tryst was complete. A few had tried to insult or belittle her in their confusion. Though the words had stung she did not take them personally; Rhiane knew she was very unusual, running contrary to the normal romanticism of her sex, and that could be exceptionally frustrating. For her brother she was the unyielding matriarch that had rules for their household, yet would get frequently upset with him when he didn't take initiative on matters he was sure she would claim he 'mishandled' if he did. The princess elect didn't claim to be perfect. She was acutely aware she was a broken, flawed woman, and she merely sought to keep that knowledge from the merciless crown that would rid itself of her once it saw the cracks.

"Art bears a part of the soul when it's created, and my paintings are no different," she said, casting him a sidelong glance as her attention was torn from the crowd cheering her name. Had he not distracted her with continuing the conversation she might have begged the guards to let her sign a few autographs before they left her home town. Part of her ached for the people that wanted so little from her after having been part of a community that supported for years, and we unable to have the simple gift they called for so desperately. "I'm here only by the graces of your mother because I am beneficial. If you're dragged down trying to defend me we both know what will happen," the former farmer in said a calm voice detached from the horror of her her own mortality. "What would you do if you hung up a painting and your friends laughed at it? Or your relatives insulted it? Or your mother demanded its removal? It's not that I want Tobias to defend me, but I know that he genuinely doesn't care about what anyone else thinks. He's recognized that the world doesn't care about him, so he doesn't care about it more than necessariy. You still care, Luke, and I have no delusions about my importance in your life. If part of my soul is on display, and you have to pick a side, my art or the people around you that truly matter and have no expiration date, I don't think I'd ever come out on top."

It was dangerous enough that she had developed such an emotional attachment- and if she must be honest an infatuation- with the crown prince. Because she cared about him more than she ought to she was devastated when he promised her a nightcap after their evening with her friends and then left her alone for so long she had fallen asleep waiting for him. Because she was too invested she knew that if he let his acquaintances ridicule her landscapes and impressionist pieces it would be a horrifying blow to her sense of self. Because she was head over heels for him she unconsciously held out hope that he would transform into a man he had given her no reason to believe he would become. What began as a political arrangement was now a tragically one-sided love story she was unable to dismiss.

As they walked through the marketplace Rhiane followed through with her agreement to give a tour for the camera once their public audience had been reduced and she could be heard from more than a few inches away. Not only did she know most of the businesses that had stalls or shops in the center of the town, she could name the proprietors, and give some basic information that made her introductions more friendly, familiar, and warm than when they had lords and ladies performing such a task. If required she could have been almost as crisp and polished as an aristocrat, but the goal was not to appeal to the nobility, but rather to remain firmly anchored to the humble roots as a true Cinderella tale. Manno was more than a little impressed that she was so well prepared. Cue cards had been drawn up just in case she faltered. Their worries were unfounded as she gave more colour, life, and detail than the reporters could have.

Luke and Rhiane did not have the same work duties, but she did not take hers any less seriously. When she was a farm manager she had endeavored to learn anything and everything she could about her neighbors since it had worked her to her advantage more often than not. When she had been abandoned by her fiance the night prior she had refreshed her memory in secret.

They proceeded this way for a few minutes when they came upon a jewelry shop, one that she did not anticipate her paramour being interested in, as it was below his station as was everything else. Since she had already created a gift basket for Callie she thought that responsibility for her present would rest on her shoulders regardless of what he said in the vehicle upon their arrival. As he bent down to inspect a ring she watched closely, surprised, wondering what exactly about the trinket had caught his eye. Her idle curiosity was cast aside when he asked for her opinion and then plucked if off the mannequin, holding out his hand expectantly so he could use her finger for sizing purposes. Rhiane paled slightly. Perhaps he did not see the significance of this event while she could not ignore it. Not so long ago she was discussing the missing engagement ring while enjoying a soak in a hot spring.

"Luke," she whispered quietly in a warning, then sighed and let him take her hand in her own. Their entourage had undoubtedly already seen what he was trying to do. If she kept her hands at her side and refused him then it would create an even bigger, more scandalous scene than if she agreed. "This might draw attention to the wrong thing," she said below her breath so only he could hear.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Mia, can you make some preliminary calculations as to the best landing trajectories within five kilometers of those escape pods, taking into account the residual heat the Bonvanenture will be emitting after we touch down? I want to avoid crash landing onto a building but still make certain that we don't cause nearby vegetation to ignite," Solae said with a sigh as she deposited herself into the chair for the pilot and turned herself towards the nearest console to have a closer look at the data that Rene had been reviewing. This would be a more difficult landing than when visiting Zatis, which had a large area available to facilitate such functions, but would still be easier than navigating through the eye of a hurricane. Surprisingly this might be the first instance in which she had to worry about forest and underbrush. Circumstances had allowed her to avoid the complication thus far, but nothing lasted forever.

"I will do a thorough analysis of each option, Duchess Solae," the AI purred in her characteristically overtly sensual tone. Machines were incapable of emotions, yet she seemed to emulate a degree of enthusiasm for orders from her mistress that was not replicated when she accepted similar instructions from Rene or Rosaria (Dasin and Yarue had not felt comfortable enough with her to test the waters so to speak).

"Why don't we just land right next to them?" Rosaria asked incredulously, stating what she felt was the obvious. With two strong male Syshin, a marine, herself, and an aristocrat she knew for a fact had learned how to handle a weapon in the last few weeks, she knew they were fully equipped if their runaway couple managed to pose any sort of threat.

"This is a diplomatic endeavor, not an invasion," Solae chastised her young counterpart gently, "and if they came here, to a planet that is all but abandoned, it would seem to me that they are hiding. Hearing our descent veritably on top of them, a foreign freighter that belonged once to unsavory sorts, will almost certainly invoke fear. The more peaceful approach is from a short distance away. They will see us first rather than what we travel in; plus announcing ourselves will leave a better first impression, don't you think? We need to plan prudently. If they bolt into hiding it will be all but impossible to find them and the problem will remain."

"It is also easier to determine if they are dangerous if we sneak up on them first," Rosaria shrewdly deduced after a prolonged pause.

"Yes, that too," the linguist reluctantly conceded before strapping herself into her chair. Already she was apprehensive about this venture. Nothing on the sensors immediately leapt out at her as a natural deterrent for re-settling this habitable planet. It was true that many worlds were lost to common knowledge during the passage of time, and an age had passed since the first deployment of terraforming technology, but it was improbable that no one had stumbled upon it in the interim. To have somewhere like Zatis seen as a desirable location, despite the setbacks and necessity of bio-domes in the interim, but the moon vacant, was absolutely baffling. One wayward ship ought to have capitalized on this rare opportunity before Bouradine. Merchants and traders ought to have set up shop and advertised the solar system as a rare chance to get close to enigmatic aliens without inciting offense. Artists at the least would have flocked here so that their works would be more accessible (and valuable) to Kalderi buyers.

Mysteries such as these bothered her. Just as she sought out the solution to the puzzle of who framed Rene with fervor, so too did she chase down what was conflicting or unknown, savoring the satisfaction of her conclusions and greater knowledge. It was the inherent jeopardy of flying them to the surface without that crucial information that made her so anxious. Ferocious beasts could be lurking in the undergrowth and keeping would-be visitors at bay. The weather, which seemed so serene now, could be highly unstable from idiosyncrasies of the evolution of the atmosphere. Humanity could have fled their grand buildings and regressed to more primitive beginnings. A few times she had heard of the Stellar Empire trying to cover up rumors of small outposts becoming isolated and horrifically mutated without the influence of a grounding civilization. What had seemed like outrageous paranoia was not so far-fetched the farther one traveled from the grandeur of Capella.

"And if the Kalderi female was kidnapped it would give the male human a chance to escape," Dasin pointed out more quietly. He didn't distrust the wisdom of their theory that this was something less malevolent, but he had a hard time having faith she hadn't been tricked. Understandably his experiences had left him skeptical of the dominant expansionist species of the known universe.

"We do have to be cautious," Solae agreed as she sighed in resignation. "I'll chose the best route, but the rest of you might as well change and determine what weapons we will carry. A certain dashing man I know," she explained, clearly referencing her own fiance, "would say that we ought to prepare for the worst but hope for the best. We shouldn't rely on our assumptions that they are here alone." Mia couldn't distinguish until they were closer any signs of life and, when she did, she may not differentiate beast from bipedal humanoid. A terraformed world did not sit vacant for centuries without evolution creating prey and predators alike. She grimaced inwardly at having to bear arms. The recollection of using it to save Rene was still burned into her memory in a way she could not quite articulate.

Rosaria all too eagerly turned, as did Yasin and Darue with a distinctive lack of enthusiasm, but Solae extended her hand to signal to Rene he should stay there with her. "I'll need my good luck charm here. After all, I can only assume that you are truly responsible for my success so far, so I must insist that you would sabotage me if you went with them," she winked.

Turning back to the console she saw that Mia had plotted four different possible landing spots, each accompanied by data that listed the difficulty on approach and the distance to the pods. The duchess smiled at how well her needs had been anticipated. The easiest was of course the farthest away. Since she had tested her ability in the an objectively harrowing landing once, and survived to tell the tale, she opted for the median. It was a short walk, a relatively patch of terrain, and would not be somewhere between so easy they could be utilized for training the Syshin on and being a serious challenge for her. The interior of the vessel remained still as she adjusted their angle of entry, the view facing their destination the only indicator of her intent.

The Betrothed

"There's no reason for you to be dragged down trying to fight my fights for me," she protested quietly while they had that brief moment alone in the crowd. The bodyguards were the only people close enough they could have potentially overhead any of the conversation, but they could not hear the engaged couple over the din of cheering, yelling, laughing, and excited chattering. It was enough of a struggle for the princess and princess elect when they were standing beside one another. Luke could have anticipated her response if he missed the objection she voiced aloud. Rather than allow him to be her knight in shining armor, like so many ladies of New Rome dreamed of, her complex made her feel obligated to be the one to shield him. For so long as she had been expected to be the dependable one in her family everyone relied on, who supported everyone, and who undertook the tasks no one else could or would do, she had nearly forgotten what it was like to be looked after. Refreshing as it was to see glimpses of her betrothed's strength and concern, the former farmer was reluctant to add to his burden, to let him be potentially injured on her behalf, even if she frequently felt as if she was crumbling under the pressure and trauma.

Trying to ignore the realization that she did, in fact, like the protection of Luke more than she could ever admit, she tossed back errant lockets of chocolate brown over her shoulder and stood on her toes to be closer to his ear. "I fight with you because I haven't given up on you yet," Rhiane told him, the word 'yet' hanging in the air for a moment as an unconscious reminder that her patience was not as endless as the world took for granted. "But you quite underestimate me if you think it's because I'm trying to influence you for any agenda that would benefit me. Can you say the same for the other people that fight with you?" she inquired raising a brow. It was a poignant question. Callie didn't really fight with him like she did, his queen mother was trying to mold him into a reflection of herself, and everyone else had motivations. Every fledgling plan in her head, however, was for his exclusive benefit.

As she was ushered forward she took another sizable bite of her torrone and washed it down with sips of her juice. The sugary sweet had bolstered her fragile emotional state into something much more sustainable. Tempted to stop and sign some autographs, she was too paranoid that Luke would punish her by eating the rest of her torrone. Mentally frowning she kept the bag with the remnants in the hand farthest from her royal escort.

"It is good to meet you, Manno," she replied gregariously, instantaneously turning on her effortless charm. A bright smile played on her lips that exuded the brilliant charisma that made her so beloved by the masses. "Before we begin, if it would not be too much trouble, I do have a request," Rhiane began with a disarming gregarious tone that implicitly made almost anyone she met want to capitulate. She was not a woman without flaws, but she so likeable, endearing, and relatable, that her manipulations lacked the cold edge of the nobility, and wooed her peers into wanting to help her in any way they could. That she had developed a cult-like following was not surprising given her attributes.

"Of course, Miss Black," Manno readily agreed, though it was not as if he had a choice. If he annoyed the princess elect, he would presumably upset the prince, and then this arrangement would collapse in the blink of an eye. To be the news coverage for the tour was too precious to waste- and he also doubted that anything ridiculous would be asked of him.

"We'll be making some purchases for the princess at some of the stalls," she divulged, the vivacious grin never leaving her features, "so I'd appreciate it if you could pan away from what is being bought. I'd like to keep it a surprise for her until they are delivered to her. She's been so unconditionally caring and supportive, and I've always wanted a sister, so I feel I must take this opportunity to spoil her a little," she concluded with a wink. The crew behind Manno was smiling and nodding themselves in silent approval. By explaining herself and her motivations, she had made them equally invested in keeping the surprise, and just as delighted in the gesture.

The Betrothed

What started as genuine glee when he took a bite turned into indignation when he took more than half the bar without one singular chomp. Nothing bothering to disguise how scandalized she was on her features, she quickly pulled away the bag like a petulant child, almost sulking over the substantial loss to her sweets. She was mostly playing but she would be lying if she said she wasn't a little disappointed he had taken so much. For Rhiane all gifts were precious and, perhaps on this very special day, it was an even grander gesture that she was reluctant to share, even with her would-be benefactor. This blemish on her charitable attitude had also been glimpsed when he had snatched the cannoli she coveted on their first date.

Truth be told she was possessive over the few rare items that were presents. Her father and brother especially were the sort of people that felt uncomfortable outright declaring their affection, so they expressed themselves by thoughtfully bringing home the best apple from the orchard, setting aside a basket of her favorite berries from the harvest just for her, or discreetly trading for household purchases that were fitting of her aesthetic over their own. It was not her 'love language,' but she had come to appreciate what these tokens represented. That her room back at the castle was so bare was a combination of her estrangement from her family, not trusting the palace to safeguard her 'commoner' baubles with sentimental value, and because their presence would be a painful reminder how poorly she was regarded by those around her.

"You're going to have to do a lot better than taking half of my torrone if you want a rain check for standing me up last night," she grumbled quietly enough that the words only reached his ears. Rhiane was realistic; she knew that despite his supposed confession in the vehicle before the market he might at any time decide he was done with interacting with her more than required. The need to produce an heir would not disappear, but he could limit their physical contact after the wedding to when their chances to conceive were highest, and be as quick about it as possible. The expiration date of their marriage or the fact she was enslaved to it did not mean she could not have her own terms. Just like any other woman, she felt somewhat spurned he spent the entire night with his mother and an ex-girlfriend, and needed him to make amends of sorts before the slight was mitigated. She wanted to feel important, desired, wanted, not a toy when he was bored or desperate.

She blinked as he whispered in her ear that it was considered improper to eat while walking. This was such an absurd rule of etiquette she was distracted by how irrational it was rather than how she had put him in an awkward position. The masses would have gossiped if he refused her offering she belatedly realized, and she was left wondering why he had humored her: to boost his own image, to protect her from the ever-critical aristocracy, because he was famished, or if he wanted to make her happy. Some of her joy deflated that it had been such a tactical decision. Every attempt she made to bridge the gap between herself and those of the upper class, be it Like or a bodyguard of high birth, was fruitless, as if she were constructing a grand arch over an endless chasm. The sole individual that had wholly embraced who she was and supported her was Tobias.

Taking a nibble out of the diminished torrone, then sipping at her juice, she took a moment to gather herself and reply in more hushed tones. "There's merit in you trying to keep their favor, but I've no incentive to keep trying to win it. We both know I could be the daughter of a deity and they'd still find me at fault." Perhaps it was not entirely true- there were exceptions to every rule- but it certainly felt to her that it was a fruitless battle. Rhiane would not keep expending effort if the only outcome would be that she would go to bed each night more discouraged and tired. If a few crossed the line, nice to her, passively approving, or merely congenial, she would have cared about the impact of her delicately consuming a nougat bar as she toured the market.

As they stepped out into the sunshine the villagers crowded around (as did the press), though they did not try to push past their security. In the capital city Luke was the golden prince who was adored, and he had his admirers in the town, young women swooning over his height, his physique, his blue eyes, and every other detail of his appearance. More numerous than his fans, though, were Rhiane's ardent admirers, young men enticed by her curves, women who admired her strength, children who wanted to be her when they grew up, or marry someone like her when they grew up, senior citizens who were glad she represented them and could be their voice with her compassion, married couples excited about the impact she could make on her future. Her name was yelled, and pieces of cloth and paper were waved around in an attempt to get autographs. This was the closest many of them would come to her and mayhaps their only opportunity to meet her before she departed, with no guarantee she would ever return.

The Betrothed

"Yes, I am quite worried," she candidly admitted with sincerity. The proprietor of the bakery and her daughter would see it only as an affectionate exchange, none the wiser that this was an abnormal confession, ignorant of the fact that the couple were carrying on with their engagement without a romantic aspect. In their own way the masses were seeing more of the truth than either the future bride or groom. As the pair told themselves it was a political arrangement they were participating in for arguably mutual benefit, their lies had begun to wear thin, and their honest feelings were bleeding out onto the surface. Surely the queen realized the charade that had begun with fooling the populace was now only fooling her son and daughter-in-law to be as they tried to deny the fact that their attraction was more than a shallow physical affair. What worried Tobias the most, more than Rhiane being beaten down by the nobility, was that she might be that perfect match for the cousin that did not deserve her in the slightest.

Mentally the princess elect attributed her concern to the fact if he faltered that she, as a convenient target of the aristocracy, would be blamed instead. If they were going to do a job she wanted to do it well, she further reasoned, though her heart knew that despite all her frustration, all her anger, and all her ire, she cared much more about it than she had divulged. Through all her thoughts of abandoning this tour and striking out on her own, she did not wish malice on him, only that he might eventually see the virtues of his father and stop following in the footsteps of his mother. Perhaps it was this shred of hope buoyed by fondness for the man buried beneath the crown that kept her by his side.

Quietly she observed the exchange between the business owner and Luke, certain that she would need to intervene at some point. Surprisingly he didn't immediately refuse the instant coffee with royal indignation. Blinking back her shock she stole a glance at Eve, the daughter, just to make sure she had heard him correctly. It was so out of character for him to be so agreeable with common establishments, beverages, and people, that she didn't know whether he was in the throes of caffeine deprivation, was trying to appease her, was attempting to keep himself from creating a scene with the media poised outside, or if somehow the last two weeks had rubbed off on him more than she anticipated. Caught so off-guard by his order, there was a prolonged pause as she belatedly realized he had asked her if she wanted a cup as well.

"No thank you, but could you pack me some water or juice, whatever you have? Caffeine in the morning will disagree with me," she said congenially with a bright smile and a wink towards the flustered women. The younger girl barely suppressed a giggle, not that Rhiane minded; she wanted to break the ice without leaving room for speculation why she wouldn't want the typical breakfast offering. The former farmer feared it would give her the jitters during a nerve-wracking day, that it could upset her digestion in a most unfortunate manner, but she was also incredibly apprehensive about whether or not they had been so cavalier with their prior romps. Proceeding with caution seemed the best course of action.

"You are full of surprised today," she murmured as she took the bags from her fiance and opened the one she guessed from the weight and shape contained the torrone. Sebastian would be appalled she was having such a confection for her first meal of the day, but she rationalized she had something healthier in the tent, and a taxing day such as this meant a reward in advance would keep her spirits higher. Breaking off a piece of nougat she popped it in her mouth and let the silky exterior melt away on her tongue. The Black family had been too poor to justify purchasing cakes, cookies, and candies. Their late matriarch had been an excellent cook with no love for backing. Sometimes her mother had tried when they had a special occasion to celebrate. The sentiment was what mattered the most, the outpouring of warmth and understanding, of emotions more profound that could be articulated. Scarcity had transformed sugar into being a sweet reminder of what happiness they held onto for a time.

Taking a cup filled with apple juice from the mother baker, she popped off another piece of the torrone as she swallowed the one she had given herself. "Will you have a taste?" she asked, holding it up high enough she could feed it to him if he agreed. It was a strangely intimate gesture on her part, one absent any need to prove to anyone what they were or were not, devoid of ulterior motive, empty of malicious plot. For a few seconds she was merely a woman who wanted to share something that brought joy to her to someone she liked, someone that might be hungry, someone that she wanted to infuse with a morsel of cheer.

The Betrothed

Ordinarily, since she had grown up in the town, she would have been ready to make a recommendation the second one was requested. Luke's spontaneous desire to visit a sweets shop caught her by such surprise that she was still blinking in co-mingled shock and confusion when he posed the question to the nearby press. As far as she was aware such a stop was neither on the itinerary nor was it something that he would seek out typically. During their outings he had alluded to not having quite the same addiction to sweets as she did. She shared in the stupefied newscaster's bafflement; surely the bodyguards were similarly perplexed even if they did not display as much on their features. From day one of the tour it had been drilled into her repeatedly that they had to stay on schedule. Going to the spa had been a deviation, but arguably just as much for Luke's benefit as her own, she she did not attribute the oddity to pure benevolence. This wayward excursion felt jarringly out of place for the heir to the throne.

Before she had grasped what the hell possessed her fiance to behave so bizarrely, he was nudging her down the road towards the store insistently. Rhiane bit the inside of her cheek as she inwardly lamented that the circumstances prevented her from asking questions. Words could all too easily drift through the air and be overheard by their audience in such an open space, a risk she could not take, and there was nowhere to drag him aside between where they had exited the vehicle and where the business was located. Doing her best to maintain her composure, she tossed a few smiles here and there as they passed clusters of people, some adoring fans and others bystanders that were waiting for the royalty to get out of their way so they could make a few purchases for their home. The former farmer wasn't certain if the hand at her elbow was meant to guide her, stabilize her in the tall heels she wore unsuited for a brisk pace, or keep her from fleeing.

Belatedly, when she was ushered inside the establishment and Luke remarked she was angry, she recalled complaining that her bold insult of Anelle (which she did not regret in the least) had doomed any chance she had to stop by a bakery for sweets. A nice middle-aged lady and her daughter both stared at the prince as did his betrothed. Everything with him was a game of push and pull. One minute he was furious, indifferent, or arrogant, and the next he was attentive, empathetic, thoughtful. Desperately she wanted to believe that the latter set of emotions were reflective of how he truly felt about her, but she couldn't be sure, because he stopped short of revealing himself. In the SUV she had been sure that he was telling her the lie he knew she wanted to hear since the success of his PR stunt relied on her performance. As she was tugged towards the clean display filled with the morning's offering she wondered if trying to fool her he was unintentionally honest and the only person being deceived was himself.

Quietly listening to the cannoli issue being sorted out, she couldn't help but raise a brow at his determination as her eyes wandered over the treats. Soon she was absorbed in the descriptions written on tiny little cards naming each confection and the ingredients contained therein. Like most of New Rome's restaurants, it had a mixture of traditional pastries, cakes and cookies popular across the globe, and a few unique creations. The careful little script took her on a culinary adventure that was not stressful, not complicated, not gut-wrenching, not mentally taxing. Here there was no chance of cruel rejection or assassination.

Rhiane visibly startled when Luke spoke to her since she had been so engrossed with feasting with her gaze. "Sorry," she said as she flashed a genuinely sheepish grin at the proprietor, "I was lost in my own little world there for a moment. Could we have a couple pieces of torrone and a few zeppole?" There was a wide variety of international delights she could have selected, but she had been to the bakery a few times as an adolescent and adult, and true Italian fare appealed to her more. She would have devoured anything and everything in the bakery given to her, yet when required to state a preference, it had to be the recipes that were handed down for generations through the people native to this area of the country. The young girl hurried to fill the order immediately as her mother jotted down ingredients for the cannoli.

"You should get something as well," she told him matter-of-factly. "I bet you worked through breakfast and haven't had anything substantial to eat." The neighbor's chickens ate more than Luke in a foul mood and she was quite aware that she had soured his attitude when she had yelled at him earlier that morning. If he went on a passive hunger strike due to loss of appetite she'd have the whole damn world after her from the red-haired witch, to the queen, to the rabid fans that were beginning to cluster outside the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of their supposed golden-haired angel. There were less of them in her hometown than in other provinces they had visited, but they were here nonetheless, undoubtedly picking fights with her fans as to which member of the couple was more unworthy of the other. If she had to be honest, that she had fans was still an unsettling concept. When she had entered the contest she had planned for and anticipated having the support of the masses. What she had failed to account for was the insanity that was how many legitimately overly-fixated individuals could be in the populace.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Compared to the amount of time she meant to sleep, Solae had overslept. Mia had not interrupted her slumber nor had Rene out of consideration for how exhausted she had been and because there was no impending deadline. As long as she was conscious and cognizant when they made their approach, so that she could pilot their landing, there was a passive agreement to let her rest as long as she needed- and the duchess had sorely needed the added hours. By the time she had climbed into the captain's quarters bed her entire body felt impossibly heavy with fatigue. Rene had been mere minutes behind her, but he had found her out cold when he joined her in their room, having drifted off the moment her head hit the pillow. It wasn't until she had awoken she realized she had only shucked off her shoes before collapsing onto the mattress.

After a brief shower and change of clothes, she was exiting the bathroom when she ran into Rosaria, who had apparently been waiting to ambush her. Slightly startled in surprise, she moved to politely step around the teenager when the girl, whose eyebrows were knitted together in scrutiny, spoke. "Are you sick?" she asked. This had been a question she had posted to Mia but the computer could only analyze very basic biological functions of her passengers as a way to gauge health. The synthetic being had reassured the youth that their mistress had no erratic heartbeat, elevated temperature, or other concerning symptom, but this was not enough for Rosaria. She didn't trust a machine that completely. If Solae looked like the afterlife warmed over, then she was more apt to believe her eyes.

"No, just tired," Solae said with a smile. "I did not mean to worry you if I did," she added, encouraged by the fact that the former protege of Thorne was showing signs of empathy. They could teach her much of the world outside the slaver's education, but helping her navigate emotions, most of which she had been punished for exhibiting, and thus had become suppressed over the course of several years, was more tricky. More than one night since they had rescued her the diplomat had laid awake at night wondering if they had been too late with their intervention. There was nothing more they could really do, but she grieved for the innocence her younger companion had not been able to keep.

"Are you sure you aren't pregnant?" Rosaria prodded, jumping to what would have been the natural conclusion for someone unfamiliar with the practices of nobility. For all of her composure, the linguist faltered for a moment and gave a somewhat nervous, awkward laugh. Being around others who had families made her think of creating one increasingly. Pragmatically it was impossible at the present, she was not even wed to Rene, nor had she solicited his opinion, she was a woman being hunted down by a treasonous tyrant, her beau's name had not been cleared of the false murder accusations, and she had inherited a sector that was occupied by the very man that wanted her dead, but the heart was often illogical. She missed her parents. She missed knowing that despite any misgivings they had about her, all her flaws, all her mistakes, they would be there for her. It did not matter she was an adult; her mother and father had been taken from her too early. The only chance she had to have a family beyond cousins with whom she was distant was to create one, be it one of choice, or one made by blood.

"It's not possible," Solae finally gently corrected Rosaria before she became too smug with her guess. "Stellar Empire nobility take certain precautions to prevent conception that can't be easily reversed." Tempted as she was to explain more fully, it felt rude to tell someone what Rene had done to him without his consent. "I was just very tired, but I feel better now." While she did feel rejuvenated, it was not fully. The war weighed on her psyche and she did not think she would be fully refreshed until Duke Tan and his conspirators had been apprehended, the empress was safe, and she was just as free in practice as she was in theory.

"Good, a baby would be annoying," Rosaria declared firmly, trying to brush off her concern for Solae as being nothing more than apprehension she'd have to share a ship with an infant in the future. For a second the golden-haired aristocrat was flattered that mentally, whether or not she was aware, the young lady was anticipating spending at least another nine months with this ragtag group of assorted individuals. One way or another they would not be together that long without conscious effort and the decision to do so. Duke Tan could not be evaded forever and it would not take the better part of the year for one side or the other in this galactic altercation to find one misplaced freighter.

"I'm going to study some Kalderi before we enter orbit if you'd like to join me," she graciously offered as she started towards the cockpit. Mia could bring up her lessons on any of the many consoles aboard the Bonaventure. One in the hold would be more ideal for studying, but she wanted to cram every last minute with the tantalizing distraction of learning a new language, and she could capitalize on her time by keeping it at her fingertips in the same place where she would have to initiate the landing protocol.

"I thought we can't speak Kalderi because of the differences between us and them," Rosaria said, narrowing her eyes again, this time in confusion that edged on frustration. "Why would you bother leaning a language you can't even speak? What's the point? They won't really care since they can speak what we do," she said as she chased after the ambassador. This had been a developing habit over the last week. If she did not at first understand a concept, she would mull it over, then revisit it repeatedly until it made enough sense for her to digest. It was not the most offensive compulsion- her swearing was worse in Solae's estimation- but it challenged the patience of her stand-in maternal and paternal figures.

"If you do well studying languages I think you could have an excellent career as a spy for the empress," the duchess cryptically asserted as she took a seat in the cockpit. Wearing slacks and a fitted shirt for comfort, she unwittingly had attired herself all too well for her role as navigator. Were it not for her enhanced aesthetics and perfect posture it would have been easy to mistake her for a member of the crew that had been aboard for exponentially longer than the reality.

"A spy? What does that have to do with learning Kalderi?" Rosaria half-inquired, half-demanded as she plopped down into the other seat.

"There's popular misconceptions about what a spy does," she explained, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. "A good spy does not sneak and skulk around because they don't need to. They know numerous languages so they can understand everything spoken around them, even if the people they are spying on are unaware of the true extent of their abilities. If you met someone and they were cold and evasive it would make you guarded, alert, suspicious. A good spy is congenial, charming, and agreeable, but not overly friendly, because that is the impression that would make people less defensive around them. They know how to talk to anyone, but they don't stand out, and can blend in equally well with high society and the seedy underworld. It seems to me that is something that you would be able to do better than most," Solae pointed out. Exposure to Thorne had desensitized her to the brutality of criminal networks and also given her valuable access to their mannerisms and vernacular. If the same could be done with different facets of the universe's communities, she could adapt, and become more of a chameleon than someone with symmetrical features and hair of an abnormal hue ever could.

"So you want me to study languages and become a spy?" Rosaria asked, puzzled. She was not put off by the idea, just shocked that it was suggestion from someone so upright, so proper, and so transparent. It was not a recommendation she was expecting from a dignified woman who had been awarded her stature by the sovereign of humanity.

"I want you to be exactly who you want to be," Solae clarified. She was reluctant to do anything more than divulge the suitability of her charge. On Zatis she had been granted her agency for the first time in her life and the Syshin, who were more wary of her than they admitted aloud, were cautious to respect it. Torn between wanting to guide someone who needed help to take their place in society and wanting to make sure she had the latitude to explore the wrong choice here and there, she let silence envelop the room. Unprompted Mia, who knew her intentions, had pulled up the uploaded Kalderi language data and categorically divided it into increments so Solae could advance through it at her own pace without being overwhelmed.

"You are a strange woman," Rosaria told her before standing up and walking out, heading towards the kitchen to get food, which wasn't as perplexing. Once she was certain that the girl was out of earshot, Solae let out a bemused chuckle, shaking her head as she queued up sample dialogue for dissection.