Syrenrei

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Decimal, I would like you to broadcast the incoming confirmation from the PEA, but nothing more," Solae instructed her synthetic companion with a wink and smile to Rene to indicate that all was well. She knew that Bhast was already frustrated and annoyed after her exchange with the irreverent soldier. Hearing contact had been made with the center of the Stellar Empire might just exacerbate the other woman's mental state and cause her to make a costly mistake. It was their best advantage at the moment. With Rene injured, Solae ill-equipped for combat, and a small army on the either side of the armored door protecting them from harm, making a psychological strike was all they could do to turn the tables in their favor.

"Status on the missive?" she asked the PEA interface knowing the answer.

"Transmission received by Capella designee," the PEA announced in dulcet tones that echoed through the speakers all over the compound. Decimal had perfectly executed his command. Hearing the words reverberate through the building brought more gravity to their situation. This was the point of no return for all of them, from the marquise and her lover, to the rebellion's forces, the usurper of New Concordia who paraded around his palace, even the smattering of allies that the heroic duo had managed to gather over their week-long journey. Regardless of the outcome of this war, it was no longer hidden in the shadows, and the survivors of the coup were destined to be catapulted to fame for their loyalty and efforts.

"Incoming call. Do you wish to accept?" the PEA asked Solae placidly, who was surprised at the nearly instantaneous reply. Decimal had thankfully followed her directions exactly and was not blaring this unusual question at their enemies. She gestured for Rene to stay where he was. Until they knew precisely who was on the other end it was wise for him to stay hidden out of view. Theoretically whomever had access would not be hostile, but she was reluctant to make assumptions after having watched the tragic fallout from Duke Tan's unexpected betrayal.

"Yes, please put them through," the diplomat answered quickly. Because of the nature of the access terminal, which was meant to be used while standing rather than sitting, the visual window was a bust rather than a face-only portrait. As a result of this larger image, she knew the identity of the speaker immediately once it was displayed: Gisella Chastain du Quentain. Her courtly composure helped her to conceal her shock at this development. She ought to have anticipated Rene's stepmother's possible involvement when they reached out, but she sadly had not predicted, much less prepared, for such a confrontation.

"Where is Rene Quentain?" the younger woman demanded.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you at the moment," Solae replied with a congenial smile that she suspected her counterpart found thoroughly infuriating. Evidently her fiance's jovial attitude, albeit forced, was infectious.

"Connect me with your superior, then," Gisella ordered haughtily.

Without hesitation pulled off her wig, her luxurious flaxen golden hair spilling over her shoulders like a decadent curtain, exposing herself as something more than the mercenary disguise she had donned. It was easy to overlook her refined features when they had been covered in smoke and debris from penetrating the embassy, especially when it was digitized and flung over and interstellar channel to a distant edge of the universe. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Marquise Solae Falia, heir of the Falia family. Would you connect me to your superior, please?" she asked in an overly sweet tone.

"I don't know why you have involved yourself with Rene," Gisella said after a pronounced pause, "but this blatant attempt to reclaim his inheritance is disgraceful."

"It is no more disgraceful than your belief that anyone would manufacture a coup in order to pursue an inheritance. Let me assure you, Ms. Du Quentain, I have every intention to share all of my wealth with the gentleman in question as we plan to be married as soon as is practical. I sincerely doubt he will find himself wanting for any material possessions, but should he find himself lacking funds, I will discourage him from inventing a devastating threat to our empress's reign," Solae countered easily. "It would be quite ill-advised, would it not, as it would be so easily disproved."

"You would marry him?" Gisella asked incredulously. As far as she was concerned, her stepson was the exiled murderer that compelling evidence and rumor accused him of being. That anyone would defend him and be so proud of an engagement to him, veritably bragging about spoiling him like a kept man, broke through her calm facade.

"Absolutely," Solae affirmed. "You must make certain our warning is sent to the empress," she continued more seriously, her brows knitted together in earnest concern. Their spat and posturing could be resolved at a later date. Time was of the essence- Bhast could devise a way to breach the door or secure their mutual destruction if they tarried indefinitely. "The outer worlds of this sector have already been occupied by Duke Tan's forces. I've ensured that he does not have a way to contact anyone through his PEA, but right now he is consolidating power relatively unchecked."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

As they entered the room she nearly wept out of joy at the sight of the PEA standing proudly before them. Solae had almost become paranoid that when they finally arrived it would be damaged, destroyed, or non-operational, but she could discern from a glance it was both intact and fully functional. The times she had sent messages across the universe for her superiors in the embassy seemed so distant. In the past two weeks she had been a translator, a negotiator, a spy, and now a mercenary out of necessity. While she had been using her linguistic and diplomacy skills, they had been applied in unusual ways, and it had been a far cry from combing through documents to provide a summary and analysis for fellow bureaucrats. A not inconsequential amount of time had been hiding her identity rather than utilizing it to further her goals.

The marquise glided to the display with a smile on her lips. For a brief second her affections for the PEA superseded Rene. This was what they had been working towards. If they could successfully send a missive to the empress then there was hope they might yet be saved from death or a worse fate. She let her fingers glide over a panel on the pedestal directly adjacent to the crystalline structure. There were still struggles ahead of them: they'd have to flee this place, hide, supply the responding imperial forces with useful information, and pray the war succeeded in eradicating the coup, but this was the first step towards a victory. Everything they had done until now built to this penultimate instance. Whether they were heroes or forgotten footnotes in history was decided by the present.

Every PEA was slightly different. The pinnacles of technology were exorbitantly expensive; their materials were rare, costly to refine, and delicate, and their construction was shrouded in secrecy. What little Solae knew was that they could not be mass-manufactured. They were created by master craftsman of which there were only a few dozen in the universe at any given time, all loyalists that were kept close to Capella, and who took oaths to not divulge their practices seriously. Most of the time the quartz was clear as the most exquisite diamond, but some were tinged with a pale aureate shimmer, or kiss of azure at the edges. This particular PEA was one of the latter. The faintest hint of golden yellow was barely visible under the fluorescent lighting.

"Let's get started," she declared before turning to Rene. "You should sit down and rest a moment. They won't be able to breach these doors safely- not when they have orders to keep me alive and a precious PEA right at my fingertips. If your father answers our call and comes charging here looking for you, I don't want to look like a criminally negligent fiancee," the aristocrat gently teased. "Decimal, can you still hear me in this chamber?"

"Yes, Lady Solae," the computer answered succinctly. The AI would not have access to the PEA itself but he could still help keep them safe while she worked her figurative magic. This was the one room in which she could pull rank without challenge. Ralch himself could not initiate or receive a transmission. Only those who the PEA had been programmed to obey had authority in this space, and as the singular entity on the grounds with such a capability, that made this a very bizarre temporary haven. Bhast might not realize her disadvantage but she would quickly.

Sole placed both hands on the console in front of her. It illuminated as it immediately began the authorization process. Per the new regulations and standard protocol it tracked her heartbeat and circulation through the skin as confirmation she was living and not in extreme duress, pricked her fingers for genetic sampling as well as secondary confirmation her blood was not tainted, and a full body scan initiated where she stood. None of this bothered her. The benign lasers that traced over her form and monitored her would grant her precious power; it was a small price to pay.

"Welcome Solae Falia," another voice, distinctly not Decimal's, greeted.

"Please confirm for the resident security system my user status," the marquise requested.

"Solae Falia, Marquise of New Concordia, Diplomatic Attache Rank XIV, is authorized personnel for all Positronic Entanglement Arrays. Please acknowledge," the foreign voice announced serenely in one of the most pleasant tones they had the pleasure of encountering thus far.

"Acknowledged," Decimal briskly replied.

"Decimal, I am taking possession of this PEA, pursuant to Code 20-19(p)," Solae continued on, referring to a very specific outline for conduct in times when the empire was at war or otherwise threatened. The particular quoted section elevated imperial citizens the ability to seize assets if there was imminent danger they would or could fall to enemy combatants. "Barricade the doors and bar all outside entry. Additionally, initiate the self-destruct sequence and advise all lingering hostiles that it has begun. Set a parameter for the self-destruction sequence to be indefinitely halted if Rene and myself leave the building of our own accord without accompaniment. Make the hostiles aware of this as well should they ask."

"Understood," the stoic synthetic existence affirmed.

She knew this would alarm Rene but it was their best chance of getting away alive. Ralch and Bhast wouldn't be able to override her authority unless they miraculously found someone else on the planet that was capable of asserting jurisdiction to the satisfaction of both the PEA and Decimal. If they had such a person they wouldn't have chased Solae across the galaxy. They were willing to risk much to accomplish their dreams of a new government, but she was willing to wager her life that the possibility of losing this holding, the noblewoman that could summon their allies, and some of their elite forces would make them reluctant to call her bluff. Duke Tan stood to lose much more than the golden-haired woman he relentlessly pursued.

"Download current accessible transmissions and initiate new message for Capella," she ordered as she withdrew one hand from the console, pulling out a device and laying it flat upon the smooth metallic podium. There was no external signal that anything was being done other than a low hum as a wireless exchange between the computers commenced. The pinpoints of light within the invaluable stone flickered, swirled, blinked, dashed across the perceivable spectrum, and sparkled more beautifully than any gem the most wealthy of duchesses could obtain. There were lingering theories that the first PEA did serve its intended purpose but was too hideous for production. It was a dubious rumor at best, but it was hard not to notice the aesthetic draw of the esoteric apparatus, which surpassed the most desired maiden of the courts.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

The room in which they had landed was empty so there was no one to hear Solae groan from the impact. Rene had done all he could to shield her from the blow, but it had still managed to knock the wind out of her and make her body ache. Both male and female nobles were genetically modified for the benefit of improved athleticism, but the Falia's specific modifications for women made her delicate and petite, not enhanced for such situations as these. Later she might purposefully exploit the bruises- although she'd heal quickly enough- as an excuse to have her paramour rub her down with a salve as he had done shortly after they left New Concordia. It was possibly the only positive spin she could put on their necessary yet thoroughly unpleasant landing.

"This place should have its own security AI," the marquise whispered as she tried to quiet her coughing on the smoke through willpower alone. Staging a takeover of a synthetic intelligence had not been part of the plan, but she imagined things would go more smoothly if she could assert her authority over the computer system that governed the basic functions of the building. It would not gain her access to the PEA itself, as that authentication process was self-contained to preserve its integrity, but she'd take any help they could receive. This was the most difficult aspect of their endeavor. If they could survive long enough to send out the message then the first stage of victory would finally be achieved.

Rolling to her side and then to her stomach she pushed herself up off the ground. Broken glass crunched under the benign movement. Had anyone told her a couple weeks ago she'd be part of a hostile takeover of a foreign embassy she would thought them mad. It was amazing how desperate need compelled adaptation and new strength. Before Duke Tan massacred swaths of innocent stellar citizens, she was arguably incapable of concealing herself as a mercenary soldier, much taking initiative in cunning strategic plots against her enemies. Solae had always thought herself more suited for times of peace than war. As an aristocrat she was more merciful and less vindictive than nearly the whole of Armistice. She shook off the disorientation that was created by the fog and their crash arrival before she pressed the button on her communicator. "Mia, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Lady Solae," Mia purred with her predictably inappropriate sultry purr.

"Would it be possible for you to send my identification codes to the AI of this building, the embassy? It might not have a record of my existence- I wouldn't be surprised if it didn't- but could you send that data through a standard encrypted channel?" she asked with pensive excitement. She had learned people vastly underestimated anything that was not human, whether it was another race or species like the Syshin, or because it was a machine. The respect she had for other forms of existence had forged great allies that the coup did not even consider in their boundless arrogance.

"Yes, Lady Solae, of course," was the aggressively sensual response. Solae bit the side of her cheek to keep herself from laughing as she brushed off a few errant chunks of demolished window. "The transmission has been sent. The embassy's AI is named Decimal. I am unable to determine if you have the highest rank in the embassy, Lady Solae, if you wish to assume command."

"Thank you, Mia, we'll be in touch again soon," the marquise promised as she switched off the communicator and turned towards Rene. "We should take advantage before anyone realizes what I am doing. It can't kill anyone for us," she added with a grimace, "but its sensors might give us an idea of what obstacles are in our path."

The PEA itself lay on the top floor. By design it was always on the top floor or the lowest floor underground. In the case of the former, the roof was typically a hazard on which automated weaponry was affixed to deter any would-be saboteurs, but the height also restricted access. Not many individuals were capable of scaling the side of a building without the correct equipment or landing an aircraft on a place that could not bear the weight, heat, and had tactical defense missiles. Generally underground was favored when it was possible. Zatis's domes hindered communication and thus this restricted their options. The embassy they just breached could only use a schematic with an upper level PEA to have a chance of being effective. It was unfortunate they could not have landed on the floor with the PEA but it understandably lacked windows as was protocol.

"Decimal," she called out, "this is Solae Falia. Do you recognize my authority?"

"Yes, Solae Falia," replied a cold, detached baritone that resembled the professional callousness that pervaded the culture of the planet. Ralch could have chosen from a variety of minor cosmetic alternatives, a soothing masculine bass, a tender soprano, or even a capricious child-like imitation. That he had elected this set told her everything she needed to know about his disposition; he was almost certainly as ruthless and heartless as his distant connection that had instigated the bloody rebellion.

"Excellent. Please add my companion, Rene, under my authorization codes." She turned to her lover and nodded once to indicate to him to lead the way. Even with the assistance of Decimal she did not know how to take point, clear a room, deal with threats, or even ask the right questions of their newfound monitor.

The Betrothed

At first Rhiane was confused by Luke's slip and insistence they leave. Though she had done nothing wrong, and every metric she had at her disposal indicated she was exceedingly successful in fostering a positive image, she was apprehensive he had become irate over a transgression and reached the end of his patience. Once he made his more formal announcement to the crowd that they were departing there was little to do but follow. With slight hesitation she rose from her seat as he touched her shoulder. Inwardly she was bracing herself for an emotional blow that did not come. Rather than clasp her hand, or walk ahead, he put an arm around her waist in what could be construed as a considerate gesture. Some of her paranoia began to wane and she suspected he had taken notice her her struggles. She had admittedly being taxed beyond limits she should have imposed on herself. Their argument had made her determined to prove herself, if not to earn his praise then at least so that he might not hate her tactics, and thus she had pushed herself to be so attentive and engaged it had drained her completely.

They looked more intimate walking out of the hall and to their vehicle than they had when they arrived earlier that afternoon. The princess elect openly leaned into her betrothed as she matched his pace. Her stride was sightly slower than his on account of his height and natural pace but she could quicken her steps for the short distance. To the onlookers, even the critical baron and shrewd baroness, they were a couple with a comfortable familiarity. Expertly applied cosmetics and a persistent smile concealed any indications the former farmer was using her fiance's support for any reason than clingy affection. The truth, which the heir to the throne could feel, was that she was finding the simple task of strolling to their SUV a challenge. Muscles that had been tensed throughout their meal were quivering as the stress was released with their exit.

No sooner than she had been helped into the car, the door was closed, and she let out a sigh of relief, than she was fast asleep. Tobias was forced to double back and discreetly help buckle her in since she had failed to do so. She was impossible to rouse- not that anyone tried out of respect. Her head dipped towards the window before, after taking a curve, it fell towards Luke's shoulder. He could maneuver her with no risk of being discovered; she was in such a deep slumber that the bumps of the road did not elicit any response whatsoever. The cousin to the crown glanced frequently into his rear view mirror to make certain nothing was amiss. Truthfully he did not know if he was pleased that the woman had found some opportunity to rest or if he was frustrated that she was resigned to falling unconscious on a backseat that was not conducive to sleep in the least and was occupied by his unofficial rival.

When they arrived Tobias parked and got out of the car with the expectation he would need to carry Rhiane inside. Luke did not seem willing, nor was he able, to bear the weight of the princess elect given his healing rib fracture. As the bodyguard unbuckled her and started to slide an arm under her legs she woke with a start. For that brief moment in time she was trapped in the wreckage of the sabotaged vehicle she had been driving. She jerked away as the nightmare seized hold, obscuring her senses with relived trauma, before she recognized where they were- or rather where they weren't. Her racing heart struggled to return to a more reasonable pace as she flashed Tobias an apologetic smile.

"I can walk," she reassured though her security detail was almost certainly as skeptical as the crown prince. "Where is the plane?" she asked as she gathered her strength. Rhiane grabbed the car's frame for support as she somewhat shakily moved out of her seat and stood. Because she had missed the discussion about their change in plans she was perplexed by the sight of the building before her. As far as she was aware their itinerary had them flying out immediately after the obligation with the farmers had been fulfilled. "Did something go wrong? Did Ms. Viscomi add another event in our schedule?" she asked with a palpable worry that she had failed with the tour of the fields in some capacity. She had willingly shouldered all the responsibility for their encounter the peasants, therefore she felt strongly any punishment ought to be visited upon her alone.

"Prince Luke requested a chance be made to the arrangements," Tobias replied stoically. "You will be spending the night at this resort, Miss Black."

"He did?" Rhiane asked as she was escorted- without contact as she stubbornly refused any physical assistance- to the entrance. She was perplexed by this revelation. Luke had teased her with a visit to a hot spring if she kissed him in the cockpit of their jet. Flustered by the offer she had rejected it outright, and though they had consummated their unusual relationship, they had fought not once but twice thereafter. It felt like a reward yet she couldn't imagine why he would be feeling a gracious. Perhaps he simply wanted to indulge in the warm waters himself after a particularly aggravating day.

"The bed has already been prepared if you are ready to retire," Tobias stated, refusing to acknowledge the implied kindness of Luke. Rhiane might hypothesize that his cousin had done this to pamper himself, but he was quite certain this splurge was for her benefit. He didn't want her to be so grateful she was ensnared farther in this doomed romance.

"Don't be silly," Rhiane laughed lightly, "I ought to soak while I have the chance!"

The Betrothed

It was dinner that presented the first complication that sent Luce into a frenzy. Alcoholic beverages were common enough among the poor, especially the hardy farmer folk that were present at that evening's gathering, in both the form of wine and beer. This and itself would not have been an issue two days ago. Unfortunately, the prince and princess elect had both been injured the day prior and had taken various medications necessary to expedite their healing. She had checked and confirmed with the attending medical staff several times that neither of her charges had taken a dose or were otherwise under the influence before the meal was served. Frequently liquor could cause complications when in conjunction with certain prescriptions. Servings of pinot noir, apple cider, and stout were distributed to everyone of age with no objections.

She was watching from afar while plates were being set when Tobias sidled up to her silently. "Ms. Viscomi," he intoned, "may I remind you of this morning?" The warning did not immediately click. Her brows were furrowed for several long seconds before she realized that he was referencing the erotic sounds coming out of the room shared by the currently agitated couple. Normally this would not be any of her business, as she did not honestly care about their private life, but it was relevant to this event. Chances were slim that Rhiane had conceived, yet she could not pull aside the woman and question her on her cycle, and she definitely could not quiz them on the use of protection. They were, after all, engaged for the purposes of procreation. She turned more and more pale. Even if there was a .001% chance it was her duty to not let any poor decisions be made on the presumption it would not matter later. Opportunists such as the Ferullos would calculate back nine months and slander the royal family were they to ignore the risk.

"I'll intercept this one," he offered, implying the onus to halt the flow from waiters was on Luce. Without waiting for her reply he strode over to the princess elect and leaned over her shoulder when Luke stepped to the side to take one his numerous phone calls. "My apologies, Ms. Black, but in your condition you can only drink water," she said with a gesture towards her arm. He lifted away the wine that had been set before her and replaced it with a glass of benign water. As he passed his cousin he frowned slightly to himself. The fact that Luke could not feign happiness for his betrothed implied a persistent level of immaturity. He ought to have been delighted, because alienating Rhiane would make it that much easier to lure her to the rebellion, but he also loathed to see her in any emotional pain no matter the source.

Luce continued to fret, as was her job, over the lack of communication between the two people in the room that were supposed to be madly in love. Every time she managed to arrange for someone to bridge the divide, either a reporter with a question for both, or someone to introduce themselves formally to the pair, the crown prince had left his seat or the princess elect took control when it was evident he did not want to involve himself in the slightest. It was frustrating. She did not approve of Rhiane's clothing choice- she detested it- but she had large smiles, impeccable etiquette, she was thoughtful and sweet, respectful of her audience without being overtly pandering, she could provide expert advice on a myriad of topics related to the industry, and was everything she could have wanted. Had Luke given half as decent a performance it would have been a success that would earn her praise from the queen herself. No present seemed to notice or care, however, with the exception of herself and the two aristocrats that looked as if they thought they were being subjected to torture.

Shortly after dessert was brought out Rhiane started to wilt. Her desire to remain was strong but there were visible signs that her willpower could not contain. She continued to endear herself to the peasants, especially the elder to whom she'd made some gentle suggestions based on her experience with products and equipment, but she was forced to move her injured arm into her lap to conceal its trembling. Her shoulders had begun to subtly droop. Answers to questions were ever so slightly slower as her exhaustion clouded her mind. Tobias had provided her an out but she was afraid of the repercussions. Luke did not want to stay but she did not know if she left now if he'd consider her a failure and remain angry. She feared not living up to the lofty expectations others held, of being perceived as weak and therefore a burden, of making a fatal misstep, and so she tried to pretend that nothing was amiss.

Tobias pulled out his device and, under the pretense of doing something work-related, sent a personal message to the crown prince: She isn't giving the signal to leave. You're the only one close enough to intervene. He hoped this would alert Luke. Much to his chagrin he knew Rhiane was more likely to do something to please her fiance than him; but whether the heir to the throne recognized this or noticed she was figuratively dead on her feet he was uncertain. The bodyguard would not offer up any additional information. If the prince knew how affected the stubborn former farmer was when he had exited the SUV on poor terms he might be more insufferably smug.

The Betrothed

To say that the princess elect was dispirited was a vast understatement. After Luke exited the vehicle she did not follow, which he either anticipated by failing to take her hand, or wished to happen by refusing to look at her while he spoke with such palpable disappointment. One of the bodyguards closed the door once it was apparent she was not yet ready to make her grand entrance. In the pervasive quiet, with the protection of tinted reflective windows, she leaned forward and buried her face in the upholstery to fight back the tears. She had sincerely believed that she could live without the support and encouragement of anyone within the castle walls. Rhiane was so determined to fight for the common people and to secure a future for her family that she was filled with determination to endure the worst that a life as a peasant-turned-royal had to offer. In practice she felt more broken than the limb that rested in lap secured in a brace. Everyone disapproved of her, from the rebellion to the crown, from Luke to her father, from the aristocracy to the CEOs of major corporations. Nothing she could do was correct. No one would be proud of her and each step she took in any direction damned her further. For a fleeting moment she wished that the bullet intended to fell her had met its mark.

"I'll check," Tobias discreetly told Nolan after he pulled out his earpiece. Given the argument he just witnessed minuted ago, he was certain that whatever was keeping the other half of the 'happy couple' in the SUV would need a delicate approach. At a minimum he would not allow a private discussion to be broadcast over the encrypted channel employed by their security detail. The bodyguard gave Luke a pointed look that edged on silent gloating before he opened the door only as wide was physically necessary, slid into the backseat, and closed the door behind him. Perhaps the symbolism was not lost on his cousin- Tobias was taking the place that Luke had so willingly vacated.

"Can I be of assistance?" he asked more gently once he took in the scene. Rhiane had been startled by his entry but had not been quite quick enough to hide the position she had been in seconds before wherein her body language reflected despondence. She leaned back into her seat and hurriedly tried to finish buttoning her shirt. Unfortunately, although she had managed the top half she was fumbling over the bottom half. The former farmer was trying to hide it, or at least pretend it did not exist, there was a slight tremble in her fingers that was stymieing her progress.

"I just need to get my boots on," Rhiane explained as she forced a smile. She supposed that she did have a friend in the capital, even if Luke was convinced he had ulterior motives, and for this she was glad. Somehow she doubted the queen took into account the disposition of her nephew when appointing him to this detail, nor did she anticipate he would treat the princess elect so warmly, but it was an anchor that kept her from feeling adrift in a turbulent sea.

"Allow me," Tobias insisted as he carefully guided her feet into the footwear and laced them up tightly. "If you become overwhelmed or need to stop for any reason, just ask me for the time and I will know you are ready to leave."

"Thank you," she said, but then after a pause inquired, "but what if the tour has not officially concluded or Luke is not yet ready to go?"

"I will handle it," was all he replied before he put his hand on the door. "Are you ready? They are quite excited to meet you," he added in hopes it might lift her mood. She nodded with a more pensively genuine smile and he pushed open the door, taking her hand to help her out of the tall car and onto the ground safely. Cameras turned as well as the attention of the gathered crowd. It was impossible to discern what drew the greatest reaction: the elegant manner in which she was escorted by her handsome bodyguard, the way even old work clothes hugged her curves, that she had replaced her alluring dress, or the jubilantly warm expression that charmed press and public alike so effortlessly.

Lord and Lady Furello were predictably scandalized but they did not have an opportunity to make snide comment before Rhiane had approached and spoken herself. "I must confess I've been looking forward to this tour. Pomegranates are just coming into season I believe; would it be possible to begin in one of the fields dedicated to them? Perhaps we could take a few with us if any are ripe yet?" she added with a charismatic smile that set off wild clicking from the media presence. "Please, lead the way baron, if you would be so kind."

During lunch the nobility had underestimated the shrewd wit and tactics of their princess elect. They had looked down upon her because of her birth, her profession, and the company she kept before the contest landed her at the capital. She would not pretend she was not almost spitefully manipulating this social encounter for her benefit. The garment change earned her the instant respect and admiration from the gathered peasants, the reporters loved how engaging and unpredictable she was because it made for an exciting story (not to mention that she treated them well rather than with hostility), and thus neither would leap to suspecting her of being passive aggressive with the upperclass. Rhiane was nothing if not an excellent spokeswoman. Had Luke not seen her temper in person he might not believed she was capable of such profound anger.

"Oh yes, well..." the baron cleared his throat. There was not much he could say. He could not every well argue that she was preying on his ignorance- because he had presented himself as an expert over his own lands, because he'd have to confess on the record his lack of knowledge, because he'd have to lower himself in front of this interloper, and most of all because he could not very well let it be known that he had disparaged the darling of the nation. After a prolonged pause he turned a light shade of pink, turning himself around to try to get his bearings relative to where the crop in question could possibly be planted.

Rhiane moved past him and approached a teenager who was standing with her sister, the former which might have been fourteen to sixteen years of age and the latter no more than eight. They represented two distinct turning points in her life. It was when she was a teenager that the plague swept through her village and reduced her mother from a pillar of strength to a fragile woman succumbing to illness. The little girl reminded her of the first time she had gone romping through acreage with a basket and instructions to harvest fruits and vegetables for dinner.

"Would you help me?" she asked the younger of the pair, though her eyes flitted up to the elder sibling for a sign of approval. "Could you take me to the pomegranates? Maybe you could hold my good hand? I'm afraid the other is hurt," she apologized. The girl hesitated, glanced up to the elder sister, and then nodded enthusiastically. The brunette held out the good hand in question and took her new little companion's with a motherly affection. The gathered group was enthralled with the princess elect. It was hard to tell if they even remembered the presence of their patrons with such an enchanting, thoughtful, and considerate celebrity wooing her way into their hearts. Lord Furello and Luce had no room to protest. Criticizing a child's company would have been political suicide.

"Miss Black, how are you feeling today?" one eager correspondent called out.

"With all due respect," Rhiane said without faltering, though her injured arm was more visibly shaking at the memories this conjured, "I would rather focus on the tour. I don't think it would be fair to the people that are out here in the cold to be with us if I spent time dwelling on such an unpleasant incident. Perhaps we could speak about this later at another time? I have many questions for Lord Furello about the equipment he employs, recent trials for new products, the crop rotation timetable and its variables at this elevation, the seed to yield ratio..."

She continued on as they began their tour. It became immediately clear that, although she aimed every inquisitive query at the elder gentleman, there were less than half that he could answer- and the ones he did were ones that she almost threw at him out of pity. To his great humiliation she fielded responses from the farmers that walked with them. Rhiane walked with such confidence, with such obvious proficiency and expertise on the topic evident, and with so much adoration from her audience, to the casual observer she was a goddess of the earth leading her devout, and that the plain garb was but to show her unity with her domain. She was in her element. The sultry brunette walked lightly, smiled brightly, laughed and joked with strangers to their mutual delight, and basked in afternoon sun with an breathtaking glow. Luke had asserted it was her show, and it was, but even the journalists were woefully unprepared for how much a truly happy Rhiane could make them fall in love with her all over again.

This was, thus far, without reservation, the most resounding success of the engagement tour.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Absolutely not," Solae replied immediately without a moment of hesitation or consideration. While she understood the motivations behind his request she had no illusions about what her conscience would demand. She could not so much as imagine a scenario in which she would willingly flee an injured Rene to save herself. It was selfish and greedy of her not to consider all the people that relied on her warning to the empire, the only action that might halt Duke Tan's violent coup, but there were sacrifices she was incapable of making. Only if her paramour was dead did she have a chance to convince herself to abandon his body for the greater good- assuming she was not overcome with paralyzing emotions. She had lost so much in the past couple weeks that to risk the person that meant the most to her out of everyone was asking too much. Her parents were murdered, her colleagues killed, her closest friend had bled out in front of her eyes, and even a former boyfriend had been dragged from his home before undoubtedly being slaughtered.

"Could you do the same?" she asked him knowing what his answer would be. "What if they do not recognize who I am? What if I was wounded, crawling on the ground, and your only chance at survival was to leave? In the chaos it's possible that either one of us could be hit by a stray bullet... but we are doing this together or not at all. Didn't your battalion have a code about not leaving a soldier behind?"

Without waiting for his rebuttal she turned and walked to the jeep that Ten had given them and climbed into the passenger side. Wearing the armor felt strange. It was not as bulky nor heavy as she had anticipated, but so much of women's fashion incorporated skirts, loose blouses, or exposed skin, that the way the stocking and ceramic armor fitted was bizarre. Many ex-military ladies preferred suits if and when they were discharged. She was beginning to empathize with why- it was a least a step closer to what they had become so accustomed over years of service.

"I'll be sending the message you composed on the Bonaventure for your father," she confirmed once he had joined her in the vehicle. It was one of the topics they spoken very little of since in the last few days. The marquise remained convinced the missive to someone personally invested in their predicament was the best course of action. By virtue of using Rene's family to alert the empress they would also elevate his standing. Whomever was their messenger, so long as they were loyal and took the threat seriously, would be praised so long as the empire did not itself crumble. In light of the revelation about the senior du Quentain there was no one she through more trustworthy or deserving.

"I do have a condition," she insisted solemnly.

The diplomat waited until her lover's full attention was on her. She coyly smiled as he stared on apprehensively and then declared, "After we reach the PEA, send out our warning, and retreat, I want you to put on that suit again. I feel like I haven't had a chance to truly appreciate it," she said with feigned despair. "Of course I still have ambitions to see you in your dress uniform but that is unavailable. Ten has assured me that he will turn us over all the clothing that we've already worn," she added with a mischievous dance in her eyes. She'd let him surmise when she decided this was a matter of paramount importance to discuss.

"It's better for morale to have something to look forward to," she reasoned as she sank back into her seat, unapologetic about her plans for the 'after party' for two. "I may have also arranged for a certain amount of chocolate to be packed in our crates of supplies for when we have to depart Zatis. We won't be able to stay here for too much longer. Still, there's no reason we can't take advantage of our host's hospitality."

The Betrothed

"The rebellion is why we are doing this," she persisted in arguing, "and they haven't stumbled just because I've become the princess elect." Rhiane let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair. The palace couldn't win this war with the strategies they currently held for battle. While the aristocracy lived better lives than generations past, the laborers toiled with increasing desperation for an improvement in their daily lives. Right now the former farmer was a novelty that won their sympathy and loyalties, but when she died, and Queen Camilla certainly would not subject her to more than a decade of the peasant's presence, so too would the public's favor perish. There was not even a guarantee they had a year before the masses lost their faith in the monarchy's intentions.

"I trust you and believe in you," she continued honestly, "and that is why I am telling you this approach will not resonate with the people you have to reach. They need hope, Luke, that is what they will follow. You could shoot every man and woman associated with the revolution and it still would not die because this is the culmination of numerous years' frustrations. You can not point your finger at the coup, call them villains, and expect them all to believe someone who does not even believe their struggles are real, who thinks their suffering is of their own making, and that they are idiots. Don't take the opportunity to give a rousing speech of damnation. Give them a reason to believe in you like I believe in you because that will be infinitely more persuasive."

Stagnation in the philosophies of the crown had gotten them here and that is why they were so blind to the solution. Rhiane did not profess to have all the answers, as she was quite aware of her own shortcomings, but she thought it was madness that they failed to consider they were the problem. For the better part of the last century they had deemed their method of management and control a success. Now that it was crumbling, however, they kept insistently proclaiming themselves experts that could not be misguided. No tactic lasted forever. If the entitled aristocracy continued to make gains, and their whims capitulated to, then discontent would fester until it was the plague that made the fortifications tumble. Once that occurred it would not matter who Luke perceived as the villain.

She flashed a smile of gratitude at Tobias as he deposited the bag onto the seat and was not surprised when her fiance objected the moment the door closed. "If they are truly your people you should not be embarrassed of them or ashamed at the way they dress," she pointed out softly. Though she suspected he saw her as different than the commoners outside, she considered her life on the fields and in a rural outcropping of New Rome just as much a piece of her as this new status recently acquired. Arguably the mass-manufactured shirts and work pants suited her more than the extravagant gowns of courtly balls. She pulled the parcel into her lap and withdrew a clean button-up shirt approximately her size as well as khaki slacks made of a durable material she recognized.

"Were I to go out there in this dress and your coat, with the baron, his wife, and yourself at my side in designer clothing that costs more than they make in a year, they would think me insincere. They need to perceive me as genuine, as someone who is still one of them, rather than a woman who has discarded her past and fully immersed herself in a world to which they do not belong. You and I both know the upper class will never accept me no matter what I wear. I was born to the wrong family in their eyes. What I can do, and what your mother more or less hired me to do, is appeal to the rest. I can show them I am proud of where I come from, so that they can take pride in both themselves and me, and that I am humble enough to be practical, so they do not feel awkward."

The princess elect pulled off his jacket and then, with more difficulty, unzipped the back of her dress to pull it up and over her head. She was shivering as she started to pull on the pants. Goosebumps alighted on her flesh as she fumbled to manipulate her arm adequately to yank the fabric over the curve of her hips. It was not as flattering as Luce would have wanted but it was not dirty, stained, ripped, or unsightly. "If I'm wrong then I'll never wear anything like this ever again even in private," she promised. Putting her arms through the sleeves proved to be twice as arduous as challenge. Rhiane sucked in her breath and pushed through the pain that flashed through the limb in protest at the twisting and turning she was attempting. The brace did not yield, shielding her from worsening her condition, but it could not eliminate how aggravating this was to her mending bone.

After a moment she fell back against the seat. The pants were on, as was the shirt, but the latter had not been buttoned and she had not yet attempted the boots with their infuriating laces. As stubborn as she was being she already felt half-defeated before exiting the vehicle. The crown prince did not yield an inch to any of her suggestions on any topic, the couple outside loathed her, and she had a multitude of dilemmas including the estrangement of her family, the rebellion's assassination attempts, and her ability to sleep through the night after her trauma. "Maybe I'm not doing them for them but for me," she whispered to herself, "because I'm so tired and in these clothes I feel like I can rest."

The Betrothed

As Luke declared they would not arrange for a separate tour and she would perform exactly as had been planned, she did not respond. The princess elect's head remained pressed against the cold window pane with her gaze unwavering in its fixation on the landscape. Remaining quiet was its own form of protest. The crown boasted arguably the greatest resources in the nation yet it had its own inherent limitations. No amount of influence, coercion, and bribery could absolutely guarantee it would compel any singular citizen into a desired action. Had she not felt so fatigued and worn Rhiane might have found quiet amusement in this fact. Every royal and aristocrat could scream until they were hoarse but they could not puppet her into compliance. This could very well be the source of her betrothed's anger and frustration. He had grown used to the passive intimidation he held as an authority figure- yet it did not motivate her in the slightest.

What New Rome's sovereignty failed to acknowledge was that it had strong competition from the rebellion. While the revolution could not offer wealth to each of its members, it certainly could afford to financially secure the future of the Black family if Rhiane chose to pledge them her allegiance. Both factions wanted her dead- one immediately, the other after she had been bred- and so neither was persuasive in their alleged benevolence. The loyalists offered her marriage, a chance to bear children that would not die as tragically as her brother and mother had, but little else. Life was not easy nor convenient. The nobility disparaged her, she was treated like a pawn, there was an expectation that all her interactions would follow a script, and she was chained to their whims. The coup offered a chance for substantial political and cultural change, albeit at the cost of lives lost, though she would not enjoy it as she would be deceased.

What kept her tethered was Luke. It was admittedly idiotic. Were logic only to prevail she would have abandoned him and fled the country to take advantage of her stature. Others would leap at the chance to humiliate Queen Camilla, to posture themselves as superior, and to capitalize on a civil war that might culminate in opportunities for them to expand their borders. She had told Tobias she had some hope for a different resolution than everyone else imagined. If the universe might allow her to stay by his side, and for him to reciprocate a fraction of her feelings, they might be able to exact reforms that would benefit all and stamp out the violence before it exploded in every village.

"Tobias," she finally spoke once they were parked, "Will you please ask one of the female farmers if I could borrow some of their clothes for the tour? I know it's an imposition, but I can't imagine that wearing this dress will be productive," she added apologetically. "I'm happy to repay their generosity if anyone will oblige. I'll wait here in the car with Luke while you make the inquiry and he changes into his boots. Nolan, would you mind if we had a moment?" Her tone was even, calm, even considerate, lacking the venomous fury she had levied against her regal fiance earlier.

Nolan cast a glance back at Luke; since this was a request from the princess elect he was required to honor it unless the prince contradicted it with another order. If Tobias thought his task was odd it did not show. He did not hesitate to unbuckle his seat belt and exit the vehicle. Fortunately there was already a small gathering of some of the aforementioned farmers nearly in anticipation of their arrival. The bodyguard was taciturn but dedicated. When the situation called for it he could be almost congenial. From their shaded windows Rhiane could see how a few of the laborers near their age looked enamored at the handsome cousin addressing them directly. More reluctantly Nolan also exited the SUV though he stayed near the doors in silent watch.

"I don't want to make any statements about what happened yesterday," she disclosed once they were alone. "I'll tolerate the baron, who I assure you will hang himself with as much rope as you give him, and you have my word I will ensure this event is a success, but I don't want to discuss the rebellion. This morning my mother's image was used for the kingdom's propaganda. I want you to imagine how it would feel if it was your father's photo up there instead, if his memory was being hijacked for a cause. What if the rebellion was using it? I'm not convinced my mother would have sided with the monarchy, just like you probably suspect your father would. But you can make that up to me now by letting me have this. These are my people. I do not know them personally, and they do not know me, but I lived this life they do now. Let me prove to them that this isn't posturing or a publicity stunt. If you want to win them over I can promise you it can be done without proselytizing about the sanctity of government. If we show them we are listening, that we care, it will speak louder than any prepared statement Luce and her lackeys could ever write."

It was her one impassioned plea for him to understand her viewpoint and, for a singular night, let her take the reigns on this campaign. She had proven adept without directions; if one was to analyze all the footage of her from the past week it would reveal that when she was permitted improvisation she shone the brightest. She knew this was a large favor to ask of Luke but that did not make it any less necessary. This morning had been a breaking point. Either they took a small leap of faith and allowed her ideas to see the daylight, to let her exert the expertise that had won her this position, or they steered down a path alienating her further than they had already.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Says the man who was on an assault team of two, and was the only one that breached a building with hostile forces," Solae pointed out gently as she reciprocated the affectionate hug. While she would concede that meeting with Thorne was inherently dangerous, because even Ten could not absolutely guarantee how another criminal might react, she was relatively safe compared to the risks Rene undertook. All she could do was hope and trust that he was capable of overcoming the security detail protecting the girl. They had the element of surprise but were woefully unprepared otherwise. That the soldier only encountered a few lackluster staff members was a relief. The marquise had feared that, though it was exceedingly unlikely, would be housing a small army with her slave.

She deposited a kiss on her paramour's cheek, gave one more tight squeeze of his waist, and then released him before they became more of a spectacle than they already were. Ten was waiting patiently as he reviewed data on his device. Moments before the arrival of the 'knight' he had been gifted the information on his most contentious rival as was promised to him by Solae. After some consideration she had decided he had provided enough aid and proven himself trustworthy enough to merit the disclosures before the ambush. It was a calculated move. She knew that having damning secrets of his self-proclaimed nemesis would whet his appetite to keep pursuing her favor. The broker was an ambitious man. He would not be satisfied with toppling only one competitor. Rosaria was staring at the intimate exchange with open curiosity.

"Who are you?" the youth inquired as she stared at the breathtaking diplomat. Her eyes were narrowed in scrutiny but she did not look either upset nor intimidated, merely perplexed. Rosaria could easily discern that woman was among the aristocracy at least, and Rene's lover, but was puzzled by the intentions and identities of her saviors.

"Please try to refrain divulging more than is necessary," Ten sighed as he lowered his tablet. "If you insist on allowing her the choice to return to Thorne, it's in all our best interest to say as little as possible, at least until you've secured your goal." He was not wrong. Until the girl decided where her liabilities lay it was a huge risk to take her into their trust. She was only fourteen years old, but the teenager was not dim-witted, and she could very well return to her mistress with a treasure true of confidences she had gathered while enjoying their hospitality.

"I'm the mastermind that stole this handsome man's heart," Solae winked as she pulled off her wig. She was still sporting a wig cap under which all her naturally golden hair was well-concealed. To infiltrate the embassy in which the PEA was stationed she had to look as mundane and unremarkable as possible. This necessitated yet another disguise change, this time to a mousy brown wig that was cropped at the chin and smacked of the cold pragmatism that most members of her sex favored when they enlisted. It took very little to situate this new faux mane upon her head.

"Time is of the essence," Ten reminded them.

"If they aren't already firing upon one another they should be soon," Solae agreed, "and there will be more cautious when it begins than after the body count increases. We'll be noticed as not belonging if we wait too long. Will you help me into the body armor?" she asked Rene. He had far more familiarity and would get her into the gear more quickly than if she tried to do it herself.

"Where are you going?" Rosaria asked now that she realized that no one would indulge her desire to know their names.

"Somewhere incredibly dangerous. You'll stay here for now," the marquise explained as Ten gave a look of disapproval. What she was saying in and of itself was not offensive, but he was trying to expedite matters, and he didn't see the point in humoring an adolescent that was irrelevant to their plot at this juncture. "Regardless of what happens you'll be safe," she promised.

"Mistress Thorne will come for me," Rosaria repeated with skepticism about this proclaimed safety.

"Perhaps she will," Solae admitted, "but you probably know that she hid you away from the world. We found you, her secret protege, and stole you away without her knowing we even existed. I am certain Ms. Thorne is furious. Would we have retrieved you if we weren't equally prepared for her retaliation? If we didn't already have the resources to see this through. While we're gone I want you to seriously consider what it is you want. This may be your only chance for many years to make this decision. If you truly wish to follow in Ms. Thorne's footsteps and be her partner, then you can do so, but if you wish to forge your own path, and be your own master, this is your opportunity to seize."

"I'll leave you to it," Ten stated. He was not a voyeur who would stay and watch Solae and Rene change in the empty warehouse. He motioned to Sykes who helped Rosaria back into the delivery van before he joined them both. It was a tight fit but there were not going far; the criminal mastermind had made reservations at a hotel so that he was as well hidden from the erupting violence as was possible. None of them waved good-bye. Quietly the linguist wondered if this parting was so abrupt because none of the departing trio expected them to survive the battle they were about to wade into willingly.