Syrenrei

The Betrothed

As Luke opened the door to the hovercraft she stumbled inside. While she had meant to sit with the shred of dignity she had left intact, the combination of her lack of coordination, numb or tingling appendages, and mild disorientation culminated in her falling into the seat without an ounce of grace. Even her back seemed to protest at the curves of the leather interior as it slowly bent and molded itself to the correct shape. Rhiane almost missed the pain of twisting her ankle the evening prior. Even to a muddled mind there was something more comforting about feeling physical distress than the growing nothing that was radiating from her extremities. The princess elect let out a shuddering breath as her head fell back on the head rest and she closed her eyes briefly to try to regain clarity of mind and strength. Before she could think of the closing the door the crown prince leaned over, cursing, and closed it for her. It was just as well. Precious minutes would have passed before she would have had the realization it needed to be closed, much less had success in executing the simple action.

The jab about 'people from the capital' not being in their undergarments in autumn, delivered in his annoyingly smug tone, did not elicit a response from Rhiane. Perhaps it was fatigue, the shivering racking her body, or just frustration with herself, but she couldn't see the merit in giving him a reply. Rhiane didn't want to spend the entire journey home being criticized and being forced to defend herself. While the courts were a battlefield she needed a pause, a truce, somewhere where she could allow herself a respite before taking up arms again. Luke did not appear to share that same sentiment. The implant leveled the playing field but also kept him in enough proximity to torment her as much as he might like. Rather than rise to the bait she decided to ignore it; she had her pride, but the best defense she had at her disposal was to use her silence as a shield. Perhaps she couldn't stop his endless condescending commentary but she could give him less to work with.

It was not until his query about needing help getting dressed that she thought to talk. As her temperature slowly rose due to the heat being pumped through the vehicle's vents, the fog of her mind started to lift ever so slowly. "I-I-I c-c-c-c-a-a-a-n-n't-t-t-t,"she stuttered out with chattering teeth. Ironically what Luke desired the most out of the princess elect was conversation and yet it had been stifled by his own personality, Rhiane's, and the circumstances. What she had meant to convey was that she couldn't dress herself but didn't see the purpose in doing so. The more skin that was exposed to the warmth of the hovercraft the more quickly she would be edged out of the mild hypothermia she was experiencing. Rhiane didn't know that was the illness that had grasped hold of her but she intuitively knew that she needed to shake off the chill as expediently as possible to feel better.

A call interrupted any further discourse. She didn't immediately recognize the voice on the other end but Luke calling her 'Cally' made the familiar tone click. As the listened quietly she took more note of how the talked to one another than what was said. There was an intimacy in their exchange that reminded her of how she spoke with Edwin and, when he wasn't raging over something trivial, Gerald. In the last year she had become closer to Seb as well not only because he was, in effect, her unofficial brother-in-law, but because he was the sort of person that had a soothing aura of friendship to everyone he came into contact with. It was unfortunate that Seb didn't have siblings of his own. If anyone would have been a wonderful big brother it would have been him.

Cannolis? Rhiane was puzzled why the crown prince had tasked the princess with seeking out a place with good cannolis. Hours ago he had been the excessively discerning patron of a restaurant that had chosen not to order dessert despite feeling assertive enough to order both their appetizer and entree (without her input). The princess elect considered that he had been enticed by the pastry he stole from her on their return flight to the castle. Though she had guarded the rest from him he had a taste of one. The most probably explanation is he had felt slighted he had no present from the peasants and, not one to suffer a blow to his ego, had ordered himself two boxes to prove to Rhiane how paltry her gift was in comparison to what he could acquire personally. Luke had proven himself to enjoy trying to upstage or squash her underfoot to keep himself in a status of absolute authority. There was no reason to suspect anything except his own self-gratification.

Rhiane let out one long sigh as she moved slightly away from Luke's touch. It was impossible to escape his reach in the confined quarters but her movement was half-hearted at best. Her right leg, which sported the brace, felt like a lead weight while the elasticity of the silicone was compromised. "I-I-I..." she began before grinding her teeth together. Because chattering of teeth was one of the first symptoms of being cold it was also one of the last to depart. "I k-know you d-d-don't want t-t-to..." More anger flared but it was obviously not at him; she was furious with herself for falling victim to something as stupid being damp in poor weather.

The Betrothed

For the first few minutes she stood at the ledge she thought only over her frustration. While she had not expected a warm, hospitable reception from the royal family (much less the prince himself), somehow things persistently felt worse than she imagined. Rhiane had chastised each and every candidate mentally for falling into the naive trap of imagining they would ever earn the affection of a prince. Yet she had herself, at the first glimmer of hope of compassion, thought herself capable of being friends with the same man. As she stood in rumination she realized how folly she had been. At each turn of apparent consideration his motivation could be attributed to his own personal convenience: he carried her out of the restaurant to leave more quickly, he let her sleep in his bed so he could have silence for his work, he brought her to the island for his own enjoyment, and he pulled her out of the water so as not create a scandal or be burdened with a new fiancee. It the princess elect's desperation of companionship that had made her even contemplate socially engaging him with candor. Rhiane wanted an alternative but she had no notion of where to look given the knowledge that Cally could not keep secrets, Luke was self-absorbed and didn't value her as an ally, the court was full of venomous snakes, and the servants all owed their livelihood and allegiance to the queen.

When his royal highness draped his coat on her shoulders and held out her clothes she didn't react simply because she did not know how to respond. The garments suggested concern for her comfort, as had pain medication in his room, but his tone and disposition did not. Luke was no fool. He knew she was upset but he was either too proud to inquire, too apathetic, or was annoyed at the inconvenience of her being a person with feelings. Because she continued to stare into the pool without even a whispered acknowledgement he deposited the articles on the ground and went back into the hovercraft. That he wouldn't care if she caught a cold was an odd statement since she never imagined he would in the first place.

As Luke retreated to the heated luxury of his vehicle she slowly knelt down and tried to grab at the fabric at her feet. Her fingers, however, had become stiff from the combination of prolonged exposure sinking temperatures and moisture. This confused Rhiane as she knew it wasn't frostbite. Harsh winter months had educated her at least to know it took hours for such a harmful status to take effect and jeopardize her limbs. Had she been a medical expert or had more experience under-dressing for inclement weather she might have recognized it as being the onset of something on entirely. All she knew at present was that she was perplexed and exasperated as the digits hooked under her blouse only to drop the shirt half a second later. Even if she was able to muster the strength to lift it was a literal impossibility to manipulate her jeans over her brace and clasp them at the waist. Buttons may as well have been doing calculus mathematics in her mind when she had never been taught the subject.

The princess elect sat down and held her legs to her chest as she tried to gather herself. All her thoughts were hazy as if a fog had descended upon her consciousness. The beautiful sunset of the west was forgotten as she flailed mentally for explanations that would have eluded her even well-rested, satiated, and at a perfect Celsius setting. Time only made it harder to comprehend instead of less.

Rhiane scooped up her clothes under her arms awkwardly, the only way she could apparently manage, turned, and stumbled back towards the hovercraft. Reaching her door she waited to see if Luke would open it for her given her bizarre behavior. The good leg was obedient to her wishes but the injured one was not. Her brace was not wholly inflexible but it had become mitigated with the sinking temperatures outside, making her roll of the ankle that everyone utilized in a normal gait, painfully difficult to accomplish. The princess elect could only imagine what she looked like to the crown prince that was used to women dripping in jewels and always picture perfect. She had no make up, she was half-undressed, her movement was rigid, and her visage unknowingly reflected the befuddlement that was encroaching on her intellect.

It would take a small miracle to return her to the castle and not have their image manager sending a report that her condition for the interview was poor. That, of course, made her all the more predictable. On her best of days Rhiane was privy to tempestuous changes of her mood. Given her predicament and that it was highly unlikely she would have dinner before speaking to the nation she was the truest meaning of the wild card for both Luke and the greater nation.

The Betrothed

What rapport had been established between the pair during their time on the island sanctuary had been shattered. Regardless of whether Luke was purposefully sabotaging himself or it was wholly unintentional, the damage had clearly been done. Had he been a close friend teasing her she might have given him more latitude with his jesting. The crown prince's posture, his smug query if she was flirting, his repetition of calling her by an honorific that grated on her nerves, the judgmental gaze, and the suggestion she ought to save seduction for later were interpreted by Rhiane as a taunting rejection. In one fell swoop he had made the princess elect go from feeling as if they were on the precipice of understanding one another to confidence in her belief he still did not see her as a real person.

Initially she had trepidation about taking this trip so that Luke could relax. Once she allowed herself to indulge, however, Rhiane had found it easier to forget that they were a prince and princess elect politically engaged and performing a charade for the entire kingdom. For a few fleeting moments they were a daredevil duo, a man and a woman, a couple of foolhardy young adults trying to escape from societal pressure. There had the tugging of camaraderie and so she had dropped her guard. The playful banter she had directed at Luke was not unlike how she conversed with other people in her life (albeit with different flattery): her father, her brother, Seb, her favorite bartender in town, her neighbors, her casual friends that called on her when familial life and responsibilities were taxing. Even the occasional fling heard was privy to her witty retorts and jokes. These individuals would jab her back but she knew where she stood in terms of their relationship with each and every one. She had no such understanding with her fiance and so, when she realized her lapse, and that he had fallen back to his egotistical self-gratification, she assumed the worst. More than once he reminded her in words or actions that he could be polite in public but would condescend her in private.

The mischievous joy in her visage bled out slowly until there was not even a trace of it left on her features. What had once been a Cheshire smile was a flat expression devoid of laughter. Walls that Rhiane had let crumble were erected in fervor as she was reminded that Luke would not, could not, reciprocate any appreciation she had of him. She was, after all, just a peasant. He might have encouraged her not to demean herself but that did not mean that he saw her suddenly as someone deserving his respect.

She fell suspiciously quiet on their hike up the craggy rock back to their hovercraft. On any other day except this one she would have shown the heir to the throne why she had triumphed in trials of strength and athleticism during the contest. Because Rhiane was shivering cold, drenched, and sporting a brace on an ankle twisted the night before, she was far from her prime. A few times she slipped as her fingers and toes went numb in protest at circumstances. She wasn't worried about hypothermia- that would require longer exposure and more extreme temperatures- but the fading sensations made her grip inconveniently falter. By the time they were at the top of the rock formation her limbs were tingling and her wet hair had become stiff as it both chilled and dried slightly. All of her muscles ached from the less than ideal conditions and she pitched forward onto the ground in mixed frustration and exhaustion. Even if the pizza would have made her stomach ache she would have devoured the entire pie on the spot were it still available for consumption. Her stomach growled quietly as it joined the coup against her control.

After a few seconds of laying still she pushed herself up and walked over to the ledge they had jumped off not an hour before. Rhiane was still shaking, her teeth chattering and making her jaw sore, but her eyes fixed on the deep blue pool twenty meters below. She offered nothing by way of explanation to her companion nor did her body language belie her thoughts. The princess elect simply stood mute and stared for several long moments.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"It helps," Solae reassured him firmly. "When we get to Panopontus I can look up your father and see if he's remarried in the last five years or had any children," she said more quietly out of respect for the conflicting emotions this information might evoke. Though he might have put distance between himself and the du Quentain patriarch, she knew he must have mixed feelings about the possibility of a half-sibling. It was likely the senior aristocrat had purposefully produced a replacement heir to secure the future of his bloodline. The marquise was not certain how she would feel if she were in Rene's situation, knowing that she had been written out of familial history, that there was a chance of an innocent child being conceived and borne only to usurp her former position, and that she had been utterly abandoned by the people who ought to have believed in her the most.

For the murder of a normal peasant there might have been a few limited motives to consider. On occasion she had heard a case stalled because they could find no motivation for the crime committed. Solae's head was spinning as she realized that the possible motives for Amellia's death, and the subsequent framing of Rene, were so numerous she could spend the rest of her life eliminating them one by one and still not have her answer. The killer could be a jilted suitor of Amellia's, a jilted suitor of Rene's, someone who simply who was full of fury towards one or both of their families (for either a real or perceived slight), a member of a noble line that benefited from Amellia's death, someone who benefited from the du Quentain lineage being tarnished, someone who sought to humiliate the empress through piercing her security, or even someone who might gain from one or both heirs being removed from the equation. It was unlikely that a junior family would be able to get into the quarters of a handmaiden undetected; however, that anyone eluded detection ought to have been impossible. If Rene's father had taken a new wife and that selection was predictable, Solae could not write off the minuscule probability that the slaying was calculated for an alliance to be formed that have not otherwise occurred.

"My mother would have probably liked you," she sighed as she trailed a finger over his collarbone thoughtfully. "Before me she had two miscarriages. It's not something she talked about but I found out when I was a teenager- fifteen maybe? They both put off having children for years because they just assumed that, with as wealthy as they were, that there was no real risk in waiting. They arrogantly thought that they and their plans were invincible." Solae shook her head. Many of the details had been kept from her purposefully and she had been too afraid to look deeply into their past. What she did know was that they had made assumptions about the quality of the late marquise's eggs, either because she had been genetically manipulated to look younger, or because they thought bad things simply did not happen to a Falia, and this had been a crushing blow. Originally there was to be an heir and a 'spare' or two, but there had been sufficient complications in having Solae that neither had been willing to endure more failures for a second success.

"At first she only wanted me to marry above my station- she'd accept nothing less than a duke. Since I assume you were never in the market for a male duke, I'll let you in on a secret: most of the bachelors are insufferable. I threatened her with running away with the janitorial staff at the embassy a few times. After I kept rejecting her choices she finally relented and begrudgingly allowed me to have a wider selection," she chuckled at the memory. Solae had been a largely obedient child because, for the most part, she was given very reasonable rules and expectations. There had been little reason to rebel until the subject of a husband had been broached four days after her eighteenth birthday. Marquis Falia had not intervened in the dispute between his wife and daughter. She had never been certain it was because he was unwilling to offend either party, because he was apathetic, or because he understood there was little he could say or do to meaningfully impact the outcome.

"She had started to get paranoid that my threat was going to be a reality," she mused with a smirk, "that she would have to explain how a man who emptied wastebaskets and scrubbed the bathrooms clean was suddenly a Falia. Or that I would just never pick anyone and everything would go to my cousins. In her mind she had to protect me from her mistakes, including waiting too long, and that meant I was on clock ticking down incessantly. I can't lie and tell you that you'd be her first choice, but murder allegations or not, she would have been ecstatic." From where she had nestled in his arms she led out a deep breath of contentment as she felt the siren song of slumber impressing itself upon her mind. Tempting as it was she did not want to succumb just yet. She had learned more about Rene in the past half hour than she had in the entire week prior cumulatively.

"I like hearing about your family, your past, all of it," the linguist confided. "Even if it doesn't help me solve the mystery of what happened to Amellia, or why, I want to know all about you. Except perhaps any women you dated besides Amellia," she added quickly. "I'm not above petty jealousy, so those are a secret you can keep for yourself."

The Betrothed

In film people could jump from impossible heights into water and not suffer a single injury. On camera, which everyone knew was sensationalized, the liquid was a forgiving cushion that would save heroes and heroines from a deadly fall- and in some cases even shield them from bullets if they were lucky. Rhiane knew about movie magic but had not known how wretchedly inaccurate it had made this particular scenario to the less educated. The princess elect was genuinely surprised when she struck the surface of the water and found, even with Luke beside her breaking the tension with his own body as he descended slightly quicker, it was not as gentle as imagined. What thrill there had been in leaping off the cliff, with the sensation nothing but air around her, and feeling more free than she thought possible, had ended in the slap of her ungraceful collision with the pool. It was not enough to make her regret but it did make her consider that she ought to have paid more attention to how people dove on broadcast or even how the crown prince angled his limbs. She had been so lost in excitement she had not spared a single thought about physics.

Frigid water embraced her before sucking her downwards. The shock of its temperature as it enveloped her, the unexpected force of hitting the surface, and the conscious knowledge she was sinking when she could not swim made her reflexively gasp. There was no air that filled her mouth but instead a taste of the cold ocean. Rhiane had thought all her instincts for self-preservation had been callously murdered when she entered the contest. Much to her chagrin they came alive as she flailed and struggled towards the light above her. She made absolutely no progress in this effort and, despite realizing Luke was probably nearby, she had a hard time discerning anything in the depths beneath her. For a split second she considered that he was not there, that he had seized his opportunity no matter how disadvantageous, and that she would be joining Edwin and her mother in whatever afterlife might exist.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her upwards. As they broke above she coughed up the water that had been breathed into her lungs and willed herself to relax in his hold. Although she was loathe to admit it he was, in that moment, a Prince Charming. It was true that there was little romance in a literal leap of faith- and the landing had been slightly terrifying- but the short flight and his rescue made it worth it. She would not soon forget how wild, how happy, how unburdened they had been when they let their childish bravery and desires alone drive them off the edge. The memory was burned already into her mind of how she had flown. Luke had benefited himself from his proposal but he had also taken a risk in being her savior even if he believed it a small task. People were not generally inclined to be even minimal protectors of the former farmer. That he was, ulterior motives or not, made him all that more attractive than when he had been chastising her for thinking too highly of herself.

"Ms. Black had someone offer to teach her to swim, but he hasn't followed through yet," she croaked before clearing her through of the last of the water. "And if you keep calling her Ms. Black she's going to stop responding to it altogether since I have it on good authority not even her employees call her that." There was the slightest twinge of annoyance in her voice that she hoped conceal the reddened tint of her ears and faint blush on her face as she was pulled to the shore. The last thing she wanted was Luke to know she was slightly smitten with his consideration, their shared enjoyment of the adrenaline rush, or the musculature that she could feel behind her back as she was smoothly carted towards the beach.

When he indicated it was shallow enough to stand she somewhat reluctantly moved her legs underneath to do so. Rhiane could not quite determine if she found the breeze or the water itself more chilling but she was freezing regardless. Stripping out of her shirt and pants had seemed wise before she took the plunge but now seemed folly. She could only imagine what they looked like. What little make-up she wore had been stripped off and by the time they climbed back to the hovercraft they would be covered in sand and salt and thoroughly disheveled. The princess elect was glad she was not nude. It would have created an image that she was not ready for anyone, much less the discerning crown prince, to see.

"It would mar your Prince Charming reputation to not save a damsel in distress," she agreed as she hugged herself and started to walk up the shore and out of the water. It was definitely colder outside of the pool but she would not find any warmth by staying where she was. Shivers traveled down her spine as she wrung out her long hair and tried to keep her teeth from chattering at the initial blast of the breeze on wet skin. Once the season shifted she might have to ask for another visit to the island so as to appreciate it in all its glory. There was something lost with the advent of winter approaching. Their journey would be even more refreshing if it had offered reprieve from oppressive heat than challenged their ability to maintain functioning core body temperature.

"Except for the part where I could have drowned, I rather liked it," Rhiane admitted aloud. "But I'm not sure if the jump was quite as nice as proving to you that I could do it without becoming a shrinking violet, which ironically was the name of my equally brave mother. Can we head back to the hovercraft? If my feet start to go numb we're fucked no matter how dashing you are," she said, gesturing to the rocky outcropping which had their vehicle perched atop it. "Unless, of course, you have a smoldering glance that will melt the stone to give us some better handholds and footholds."

The Betrothed

"I'll tell you a secret," Rhiane leaned over once they were both seated inside the hovercraft comfortably. "It's similar to laughing at yourself so that it's easier to tolerate when others laugh at you. I suppose you haven't had that happen to you quite as often as most. Because I demean myself I steal that opportunity from others, or at least rob them of the pleasure of making me uncomfortable with their commentary," she shrugged. Perhaps it was conduct unbecoming a princess but it was, at least for now, her best line of defense in dealing with what would be alienation and whispered insults of the court. That Luke was put off by her self-depreciation was sincerely surprising. The former farmer had been relatively certain he had no respect for either her nor her ego and, if anything, would be an eager participant in all the games that had ladies and gentleman competing over who could make the most scathing criticism at her expense. Even before they had been formally introduced she had wagered no prince would be content with a peasant for a wife. Aristocracy did not even visit their village because they saw the poor as unworthy of even fleeting attention. As heir to the throne Luke's contempt was all but guaranteed. No matter what romantic fantasies other princess candidates harbored about princes, royal weddings, and rising to riches, Rhiane knew the simple fact she had been borne to the wrong mother and father, that she had never lived a life of luxury, would condemn her in the eyes of nobility.

It was this self-awareness of her position that had led her down a path of self-mockery and morbid humor. When managing her family farm she had been assertive, authoritative, and unflinching, though she always possessed a good sense of humor and could take a joke in good taste. Joining the contest changed her. No amount of bravado would make the social atmosphere more hospitable and so she had morphed into someone that suited her bleak future. Though she had not lost all her strength, she had abandoned her sense of self-preservation, embracing death with a reckless cavalier approach that had unnerved her brother and father and led to their estrangement. Her wit was used to make bitter remarks to shield hear from the attacks that would have otherwise caused emotional damage.

"I'll remember you gave me the option to back out, if you remember you were the one foolhardy enough to challenge me," she remarked as she glanced out the window to watch the landscape. One aspect of her personality had not been diminished in the last few months: her courage. It took true bravery to know the cruelty of the crown, to know there was no love waiting in your marriage, to know you would be despised, that you would be killed before your children were grown, and to accept that fate. Idly she wondered if the roles were reversed if Luke would be quite so daring as she had been. Military men and women went into war with the knowledge and understanding that they might be killed in action. She had certainty that she would. There was a saying among veterans that a man could prepare for their end but they were never actually ready for it. Rhiane begged to differ.

The hovercraft was parked atop the rock formation. Once the crown prince exited the vehicle she did the same although, instead of undressing, she did one complete rotation to take in the view. The princess elect had never been at such a high altitude outside of her hovercraft travels during the trials and recently. She drank in the view of pristine beaches, endless blue ocean, and the shady silhouette of flora as the sun descended closer to the horizon. Back at home she had watched the sunrise and occasionally the sunset, but they had not been as surreal an experience as this. More and more their exotic location made her feel as if she were having a vivid dream that would be interrupted when she was roused from her slumber.

"Ms. Black respectfully declines to keep her shirt on. You can be as prudish as you desire, but Ms. Black doesn't want any more wet clothes than necessary," she announced with a smirk and roll of her eyes. Without waiting for his objection she wiggled out of her pants, pulled off her jacket, and slid out of her blouse. She was not naked as she had offered previously- Rhiane still wore both undergarments which were only slightly more scandalous than swimwear might be depending on the design. Goosebumps rose on her bare arms and legs as she joined her fiance at the precipice that he consistently warned might invoke fear.

"Easier for you, maybe. If you let me drown, you'll have to do that interview alone, and then your mother will be so disappointed you'll end up with a one meter lease with the next girl," she teased. "I hope you're up to it, Lucius!" Rhiane took his right hand with her left and, with a crazed laugh like someone who had a wanton disregard for anything resembling caution, leapt off the cliff with her good leg bearing her weight for the jump. Prior to this moment she had not been a thrill-seeker. There were not enough hours in the day nor enough money in the bank to afford such a hobby. The rush of adrenaline as she fell into the pool below, however, was intoxicating.

The Betrothed

The cold water sent a shiver up her spine as it washed over her feet. Generally she favored the heat, simply because she was much more acclimated to working fields in sweltering weather, but Rhiane had no regrets for wading into the ocean until it covered her ankles. The silicone brace on her injured joint was chilled and the twisted muscle soothed by the refreshing liquid. It was not nearly as effective as an ice pack but it provided minor relief all the same. When the doctor and nurses had given her options for pain management she was certain they had not considered being whisked to an island just off the coast with winter approaching. The princess elect thought to bring to Luke's attention how unintentionally considerate he was being to her trivial impairment but ultimately decided against it. His ego was large enough without praising him over the beneficial byproducts of his selfish desires. Perhaps once he was actually Prince Charming- assuming that was even a possibility- she'd admit what personality traits or actions she admired.

"I am every bit as brave as I've said," Rhiane boasted, slightly irked by his doubt. Her gaze followed his finger towards the cliff as she very reluctantly let herself be led away from the shore. With her feet damp, but no longer submerged, it felt as if every granule of sand stuck to them. Rationally she knew that the hem of her pants had not become objectively colder yet the soaked edge of her clothing felt positively frigid as it rubbed against her skin. The beach had its appeal but was unforgiving to those that sought to depart its embrace. If they didn't have servants back at the castle she knew would be tasked with cleaning up every speak of the intrusive sand she imagined they would learn to hate the invasive substance. Once she had spilled salt in the kitchen. Days after she had swept the floors she could still feel its grit underfoot as if it had a persistent will of its own to wedge itself in the cracks and never leave.

"I promised you that I wouldn't lie to you," she stated as they arrived at the hovercraft. In the last few minutes her balance had improved though she still found it incredibly awkward to be on such an uneven surface with a brace tight on her limb. "You have to work a bit harder to become the most 'awesome' person I ever met, your highness- that doesn't come with just having a crown. Besides, I wouldn't dare to say your first name without your explicit permission so I couldn't repeat that sentence even if I wished to," she reminded him cheekily. That he was keeping her at arm's length regarding their given names had not been ignored even if his better spirits had made him slightly more congenial.

"I accept your challenge," Rhiane asserted as she opened the door and slid into her seat with steeled determination. She didn't rise to absolutely every dare that was laid in front of her but she had a hard time resisting most. It was a weakness she suspected that sometimes Luke himself shared in.

Truthfully she was worried. She did not think the crown prince would let her drown, at least not until the queen allowed him to be rid of her in a decade, but there was inherent danger regardless. The princess elect was putting her life in his hands. Once they hit the water they would be deep enough that she would, without knowing how to swim, probably sink if she could not manage to struggle to the surface. Luke would be responsible for hauling her back to safety no matter how desperately he wanted to be rid of her. Wryly she wondered what happened if he failed and she died to their foolishness. No one had briefed them on whether or not the implant would remain active if one of them was a corpse. There was a cavalier morbid joke on the tip of her tongue but she elected not to give voice to it. Once Luke inevitably slipped back into a sour mood she'd let loose her disconcerting sense of humor; there was an atmosphere at present she did not want to chase away, but if he was back to being the dictionary's descriptor of an arrogant ass there would be nothing to lose.

The Betrothed

She was still transfixed by the sand as the crown prince answered her questions. Silently she took note that Princess Callista, though warm and friendly on the night of the ball, was not someone she should ever entrust her secrets to. There was little that was kept from the queen and Rhiane had no illusions that her deceptions would fool the monarch as effectively as it did others. Still, she wouldn't make it easier to separate fact from fiction. That she had survived the contest without anyone discovering how to manipulate her was a testament to her convictions. The former farmer wasn't going to to let all her hard work be jeopardized no matter how desperately she yearned for a friendship inside the castle to keep her sane. Her brother and father offered no solace. She knew that if she wrote to them with apologies for actions she did not regret taking that, even if they forgave her, they would be more critical than compassionate of her struggles. The princess elect was more alone since winning the contest than she had ever been in her entire life.

"I wouldn't say that I know the reference of Godzilla, just that I actually paid attention when you said you weren't just any lizard," confessed. Luke's promise of being her Prince Charming was dubious at best but she didn't want to snub this golden opportunity. She took the offered arm and used it to stabilize herself on the uneven ground that was so soft and perplexing. Only once she felt properly balanced did she lift her eyes to the beach that spread out in front of them. Crystalline water sparkled under the late afternoon light as rays danced off its surface. Waves lapping at the shore made a peculiar sound she was certain she had never heard before. Everything seemed so strangely beautiful, so enchantingly exotic, it felt as if walking any closer might somehow ruin the imagery. Irrationally Rhiane worried that she was caught in the dream and one wrong step would puncture the fabric of the tapestry, jolting her back into the waking world.

"You must be really desperate to relax to accompany this not-quite-princess," she teased gently as she stumbled along. For once it was not her injured ankle that was causing her problems but how inexperienced she was with the loose sand underfoot. More than once she jostled against her escort as she started to adapt to how much more flexing of the toes was required and how easily the ground gave way underneath the ball of her foot. Rhiane chewed gently on her inner cheek as she tried not to become distracted by the scenery and focused on the task at hand. If they were going to be coming here in the future she couldn't rely on Luke indefinitely like a baby chick. The princess elect was a proud, confident woman, and she would not be conquered by anything as absurd as foreign terrain.

When they reached the edge of the water and stopped she lifted her eyes from the ground to the rolling white foam that washed over their toes. A smile spread over her features as she let the reality of this miniature vacation sink in. As far as the eye could see was the peaceful expanse of deep blue as the sun hung low in the sky. More than the sights she drank in the sounds of the island. The gentle crash of the tide on the shore and their conversation was all that she could hear; even the hovercraft had been powered down to silence. Luke's desire to keep this sanctuary a secret was selfish but completely understandable. The moment anyone knew of it was the moment it lost its tranquil allure.

"I'm just saying you have a reputation, your highness, and the people don't believe you spend all your time with female companions in such modesty," she explained with a touch of amusement. "Granted, I know I'm nothing like those women, but I just didn't envision you caring about whether we had swimsuits on a deserted island." As he so aptly noticed nudity was, in their arrangement, non-negotiable. The queen would have very limited patience about procuring an heir to throne after the wedding ceremony and any squeamishness they had about one another wouldn't be tolerated. Fortunately Rhiane was just was confident with her body as she appeared on broadcast. The shriveled walking corpses they called models might be thinner than she was but they suffered in other proportions that were required for her sultry figure.

"If you're sure you want to take on teaching me how to swim," she said with a little trepidation. His forewarning about his abilities as an instructor had not been forgotten in their short journey to the water's edge. Luke seemed particularly invested, however, in her happiness during this trip. She wasn't sure if it was because he legitimately wanted to share, because he was lonely, because he wanted someone else to see what he wanted to see, or if he was trying his damnedest to make sure she didn't rat out his retreat to his mother, but he was being nice and thoughtful.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I'll be fine," she murmured. The jump horizon had made her dizzy, disoriented, and confused, but it was not worse than their ascent into space that had thrown her completely unconscious and pushed her to the precipice of death. There was something depressing in the fact there was very little possibility their future could comparatively worse than what they had endured.

Craving physical affirmation of Rene's feelings the diplomat crawled into the soldier's lap and laid her head against his chest. A long curtain of aureate splendor hung behind her shoulders as she steadied her breathing to match his. Once they had the luxury of worrying about it she would need a trim; some of the tresses had been singed and created any unintentional layering effect at the ends. With her legs curled up on the sheets and her thighs upon his she felt comforted. He did not need to embrace her to have this soothing effect on his fiancee. Rene's touch alone was comforting. That he was here, and alive, and cared for her was an anchor of security among the looming threats of a haunting past and war-stricken world.

The late Marchess Falia and Marquise Falia had not been as cold as other members of the aristocracy. Young nobles were rarely directly raised by their parents. Servants and education professionals reared the elite youths from birth, when they were monitored by anywhere from one nanny to a small team of them, to their last year of higher study, when they were coached by personal attendants, tutors, and counselors in politics alongside more traditional studies. The higher the stature, the more emphasis that was put on discipline, and the more distant the family might be so as to encourage independence and emotional control. Certainly some broke these ranks. One bloodline of Dukes and Duchesses were notoriously enmeshed from one generation to the next. Solae had once been thankful that she had ever been hugged or her brow kissed when some of her peers never had. Now she was greedy for more than had been offered to her. Even Lord Armon had been a product of his environment and, when not trying to instigate intercourse, didn't waste time with soft romantic reassurances like cuddling. Like her other male suitors he had shown restraint. Perhaps it was because of their situation that Rene allowed himself to be so tender and vulnerable. The marquise found it much more likely, however, that they were both rebelling against societal expectations in their own way both inside and outside their relationship.

"I would like to reiterate my suggestion that Lady Solae retires for the evening," Mia cooed with her typical inappropriate sensual tone. While she actually meant sleep her intonation was suggestive of a repetition of the events that followed the linguist's earlier shower.

"Tell me about the Du Quentains," Solae said to Rene, clearing ignoring he sage wisdom of Mia.

The artificial intelligence system was not wrong. When her companion had been in the Rev Chamber, which had healed him and also conveyed the benefit of slumber, she had been engrossed in Argon's systems erasing all evidence of his Syshin slaves. The stars outside made it impossible to determine time but she had been awake longer than a standard day she was sure. Had that not been the case there would have still been a strong argument for seizing the opportunity for sleep- a near death experience was indicative of a body that was under strain and duress. Sooner rather than later she would need to give it respite if she wanted to keep her strength.

"I'll find out about them if I am going to research the courts. What are your parents like- are they alive? Do you have siblings? Cousins? Are you or were you close? What did they think of the charges against you?" Not only was she curious about the lineage she may eventually marry into, there was the chance, however small, that Amellia was not murdered because someone sought to kill her alone. It may not have been any coincidence that the chevalier was framed- he could have been the real target all along. More than once a noble had benefited from the disgrace from another. Solae felt guilty asking Rene with an ulterior motive but she had to know who benefited from his downfall just as much as she needed to know who benefited from Amellia's death. The first focus of her investigation would be both the Siennaferaras and du Quentains.

The Betrothed

"Careful, Godzilla, you're starting to sound more like Prince Charming than lizard," she warned without the typical biting criticism behind her voice. Rhiane was teasing the heir to the throne for expressing even a passing desire for her to enjoy the promised sunset since they spent the better part of the day either inadvertently or purposefully irritating one another. Her words were hyperbolic but not insincere. Luke was charismatic when he had a mind to be and it easy to imagine why he was the royal heartthrob. People on a whole were willing to look past personality defects if the person in question was highly attractive. The few times that his highness lowered himself, albeit briefly, to anything approaching casual congeniality was made all that more magnetic because he was handsome. It was shallow but the former farmer had long ago accepted that humanity had done little to evolve beyond looking at the exterior and judging a person according to their symmetry or body proportions.

"Change of clothes on an island with no one else around- how unexpectedly modest of you, your highness," she remarked with a raised brow. Swimsuits were practical and she had nothing against their use, not that she ever had one, but she was also not opposed to nudity on a whole. Most of the rural lands harbored pervasively conservative views that made them more misogynistic than the cities. It was this adherence to traditions of centuries past that had made her struggle more than she ought to to establish herself as a female farmer with two male relative employees. Rhiane had never felt bound to those societal expectations and had been naked before several men that she had no inclination to see after their night of passion had concluded. The media had assumed that the princess elect, despite her sultry appearance, had been a product of her environment without the streak of rebellion she possessed.

"I assure you I could jump off that cliff, though, without panicking. Unless you have a doctor lying in wait at the bottom of the water there isn't anything that I fear out there," she asserted. What she was dancing around delicately was that no one with a well-developed survival instinct would have ever entered the contest. Even the optimistic candidates had to admit the chances of their death being delayed more than a decade in the future were woefully slim. Not every fellow peer had been a daredevil but they had been on a whole a brave lot. No matter how firmly their eyes were on the prize, each woman that aimed for the crown had to accept and be prepared for their eventual murder, and they had to pass enough psychological assessments that even the queen and judges were confident they would not become psychologically unraveled as their time drew near. Mental fortitude had been just as important a quality as physical endurance.

The princess elect wasn't sure how to respond to the offering of teaching her how to swim. While she didn't want to reject him as a swim instructor she couldn't imagine it would be remotely pleasant for him to teach a lowly commoner such as herself. Then again, Luke did not strike her as someone who made generous proposals flippantly. Either he truly believed it to be necessary for survival (a statement she found ludicrous for both farmer and future princess) or was motivated by unknown reasons to make certain she went into the water. Not even the image manager would care that she was unable to swim. If anything she suspected such a deficiency would be spun into another facet of the Cinderella narrative, proof of how her poverty made her one of the masses, and that no amount of wealth would transform her completely beyond those roots.

Despite her nap earlier Rhiane had begun to doze off again in the comfort of the hovercraft as they passed over the more familiar landscape of rolling hills, plowed fields, and grazing livestock. It was her fiance's words that jolted her out of her drowsy half-sleep and made her sit upright to get a better view. Rhiane had read how vast the ocean was but seeing the seemingly endless stretch of blue towards the horizon was more breathtaking than she had thought it could be. Her seat belt protested as she lifted off the plush cushions to crane her neck and gawk at the expanse. Luke had tossed out the words 'island' and 'sea' and she had known what he meant but not in the same way she did now. Her breath caught in her throat as she spotted cresting waves and the movement of tides beneath them.

"This is where you go every time you need to relax?" she asked incredulously as they began their descent towards the donut. Everything, from the guest quarters of the palace, to the breakfast options that were longer to her arm, to the private pool in Luke's suite, had seemed so absurdly luxurious it was divorced from the reality of her former life. These did not compare to an uninhabited oasis only frequented by the crown prince that allegedly had a cliff suited for driving and unobstructed view of dusk. Rhiane's head spun as she realized how vast the differences were between herself and the aristocracy. They were not of different worlds but of different galaxies.

They landed, Luke yanked off his boots, and came to her side of the hovercraft presumably to help her out. Bewildered by his almost kind disposition she slipped off her flats and exited the vehicle with wonder at the soft feel of sand beneath her feet. The closest she had come to a similar texture before this moment was standing in the dirt of a barren patch of land close to the road but still within the borders of her property. The foreign sensation wasn't unpleasant but it was strange how different it was to the firm footing of land. "Why wouldn't you bring someone here?" she asked, staring down at the granules between her toes and the remnants of broken shells that had been washed ashore some time ago. "There has to have been someone in your life you wanted to share this amazing place with," she breathed as she reached down to feel the sand with her fingers. It was clear she would be content to stay in that very spot rather than exploring what else the island had to offer as she was hypnotized by the newness of this small trip.