Syrenrei

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

After they were airborne Solae leaned against Rene and closed her eyes. One might assume that a jolt from a stunner would cause a person to be more wired, more energetic, and difficult to calm, but the opposite was true- at least for the duchess. The overloading of her nerves and musculature had taxed her physically. Most of the truck was also coming off the adrenaline surges they had felt while confronting Thorne's forces and evading them. The peaceful quiet lulled her into resting on her lover's shoulder if only for the briefest of respites. Their destination was a warehouse not far from where the Bonaventure had been docked when they disembarked days ago. Neither the Syshin nor the criminal overlord interrupted the silence. All of them had been stung by a stunner before and felt the drowsy after-effects from it draining their strength.

Their arrival at the warehouse was punctuated by the vehicle rolling to as soft a stop as the driver could manage. The loss of the steady vibration woke the diplomat just as Ten was opening his mouth to broach the subject. It had been a silent ride but not uncomfortable. The Syshin were appreciative of the time to gather their thoughts and assess the situation more fully. Ten, who was never idle, had busied himself with planning for once his guests had left Zatis space. He would have to deal with Thorne, regardless of whether or not she suspected his intervention in freeing two slaves, but thanks to Solae's cache he would be far from defenseless. He knew that neither she nor Rene approved of his methods so he respectfully did not divulge them. By the end of the month he anticipated having all of Ralch's supporters under his thumb.

After they landed the truck was unloaded. Criestia, who didn't trust them to not be injured during the daring rescue, and Rosaria, who needed to also be ferried to the Bonaventure, were waiting for the intrepid heroes in one of the offices at the warehouse. Unlike some of the others they had visited while laying low, this one was regularly used by Ten in his day-to-day operations. Crates of illegal cargo, enigmatic machinery, and various types of transport were scattered about in the larger open area. The northeast corner had been sectioned off into the aforementioned offices. It was in one of these the doctor and teenage girl waited patiently in ergonomically designed business chairs sipping a tea that the physician hoped would calm their frayed nerves. Normally she was not quite so invested in her patients' personally to be worrying.

Solae was favoring her 'good' leg as they lumbered to the offices. First Rene, then the Syshin, and even Ten had offered their assistance, but she stubbornly refused. The stunner needle had not left her crippled. It was the bruise that left her sore to the touch and reluctant to shift her weight onto the limb. Given how injured Rene still was she clung to her pride and swore she did not need help; if he was perfectly mobile after nearly dying from being shot in the embassy, she could bear an ache for a night.

"Oh, thank the stars," Criesta exclaimed as they entered the makeshift meeting room. There was a long table, the surface of which was a polished crystalline material supported by wrought metal alloy, covered with various medical supplies she had brought in case of an emergency. Evidently she had prepared for the possibility of needing to operate upon the colonel should he push his limitations too far. "Come sit down and let me examine that leg," she ordered the duchess.

"It's really not necessary, it was just a stunner..." Solae protested with a glance towards Rene and Ten, neither of whom spoke up in her defense. Seeing that the argument was not worth the effort she sat down as Criesta cleaned the discolored flesh with disinfectant and perused her selection of sprays for the one that would be most appropriate for her condition. It was a very minor abrasion in the grand scheme of things, but she her only duty was not just to prevent loss of life, but to improve the quality and conditions of all who came to her with ailments, no matter how small.

"I would like to introduce myself," the linguist said in fluent Syshi as she turned her attention to the two freshly-liberated slaves. She reached up and hooked her fingers under the wig and pulled it off, then the wig cap underneath, freeing her golden hair to fall and tumble around her shoulders in aureate waves. "My name is Mar- no, I apologize, I'm not yet used to my new title. I am Duchess Solae Falia."

"Duchess?" asked 427. Both he and 138 had been surprised by the reveal. Obviously neither thought the blue wig was real, as Solae was not the first 'customer' of Thorne's to don a disguise, but they had taken notice of the unusual hue of her hair. Between them they had seen enough of humanity to know it was a unique shade that was no more natural or common than the blue.

"Yes, but I would like you to call me Solae if you agree," she asked them pleasantly in Syshi. Another lady would have balked at letting her entirely human entourage refer to her casually by her first name. Solae believed that there was no sense in breaking with all societal expectations and norms if she was not also going to breach etiquette. It would be incredibly uncomfortable for her to be sharing a ship with two people who kept referring to her with honorifics. Her goal was to pioneer the acceptance of Syshin within the Stellar Empire with these two men; the least they could do was be familiar enough to dismiss ordinary conventional trappings when practical.

"What are your names?" she asked them in the common tongue so she was not excluding the rest of the room from the conversation.

"Before 138?" asked the one with the matching numerical designation.

"Yes, your true names, the ones your parents gave you," Solae nodded with a gentle smile. Criestia seized the opportunity to spray the distracted duchesss's blemished skin, which was now already a ripe shade of purple where it had not been cracked when she skidded on the floor, with a cool liquid that helped to reduce the swelling and pain. It did not completely escape her notice that the highborn woman had an accelerated healing factor similar to Rene.

"I am Yarue," volunteered 138 immediately, eager to shed Thorne's system that had reduced him to a number.

"I am Dasin," answered 427 with a touch more reluctance. It had been so long since his real name had been used it felt foreign as it rolled off his tongue. For a moment he internally questioned if he had mis-remembered the name that painted his fondest recollections of his childhood.

"As of today I am appointing you both as my bodyguards. This is my... mate, Rene, and the girl I mentioned that will be joining us on our ship off Zatis, Rosaria. Rene will help teach you how to use some of the equipment we're taking with us so you can defend yourselves better from people like Thorne," she told them in Syshi before looking to her fiance. "Do we need to arm them before we leave? I had Ten find a few things that we can use for improvised armor for them, but it'd be easier to assemble it later when time is not an issue."

"Before you worry about getting them into armor, might I suggest that you think of your own clothing?" Criestia pointed out dryly.

Solae blinked a few times, looked down, and only then realized she was still wearing the dress with a plunging neckline and lower hem well above the knees. More of her was arguably exposed than anyone else in the room- Syshin included. "It would take me longer to change," she admitted. The doctor sighed but did not contradict the statement as it was probably true. The scandalous ensemble was a tight enough fit that it had been a challenge to wiggle into. Now that it was damaged from the skirmish in the hotel it would be even more difficult to remove quickly.

"Do we at least an option that gets them out of those ridiculous furs?" the duchess amended her inquiry.

The Betrothed

Rhiane wholly and completely ignored the interloper- or at least convincingly acted as if she were. She was quite aware that Anelle was provoking her through her flirtations with Luke. The other woman was staking her claim, proving that they had a history, and veritably taunting the former farmer with the past, present, and implied future. It was up to the crown prince to rebuke the so-called Image Manager. When he failed to do so to the princess elect's satisfaction, she tried to drown them out with intense focus on the article displayed on her screen. Words of adulation swam in front of her eyes but so did certain questions buried in paragraphs of praise. Sentences calling attention to the fact the betrothed couple failed to show any genuine affection in public struck her like daggers to the heart.

It was growing harder and harder to ignore the comparisons. She had known when she joined the contest that had bedded all the most attractive and eligible female aristocrats. What she had failed to anticipate was developing sincere feelings for him. Now that she had, she could have easily put aside his sordid affairs, had one not reappeared in their shared cabin and arranged for a date. What was even more humiliating was that she knew whatever time she had spent with him eclipsed the days she had enjoyed Luke's attentions. There were undoubtedly more pictures circulated by the media of her fiance and any of his prior conquests embracing than the two of them. Anelle was not herself the problem. Rhiane could blame no one but herself for forming an attachment with someone who treated her entire gender like disposable toys.

The brunette continued to fixate on her perusing of the news even when she was directly addressed. She gave no indication she heard Anelle when she prattled on about making a list. Rhiane had no intention of complying with such a request. Her hometown was an unexpected and unwelcome stop, she already loathed the person who was trying to give her directions for their itinerary, and she balked at the notion of disclosing such personal secrets to anyone. There was no motivation for her to be obedient. No reward awaited her at the end of this adventure, and it would inevitably open painful wounds as they retraced the steps of her childhood.

Only after the intruder left and Luke wandered over did she rip her gaze from her reading. Rhiane was seething. She had been silently fuming and trying to contain her ire for several long minutes by the time he tried to initiate conversation. The heir to the throne produced the box with the personal device she recognized as having purposefully left behind in the villa in the wake of another another argument. Luke tried to succinctly explain himself and, she guessed, appeal to her through this expensive present. Under other circumstances it would have worked. Lingering post-coital bliss would have made her twice as delighted that he was delivering a gift that nearly matched something he already owned himself.

"Going to my hometown is a horrible mistake, outmatched only by the idea of having our first meeting with my family broadcast," she told him with a bitter edge to her voice. "They won't care that it's being recorded and will be brutally honest. Every detail of this arrangement that the courts and reporters are too polite to discuss, perhaps out of fear of your mother, they will unabashedly discuss. Luke, I have the best temper between myself, my brother, and my father. They will call the stipend blood money, they will quiz you on what happened to my predecessors, the other prince and princesses elect, they will try to find any avenue to criticize a relationship they are already convinced is fake. Perhaps with some privacy I could defend this engagement, but how will I do that with your other future wife in our entourage? How do you expect me to possibly visit my mother's grave when I..."

She stood up restlessly and paced as she chewed the inside of her check anxiously. The more she dwelt on it the more certain she was that the meeting would be explosive. Ideally she would scream at the other two surviving members of the Black lineage, they would yell back, and afterwards they would be calm enough to find a way to endure the situation with their strong bonds of love. "When I left home to come to the capital we had a fight before I walked out the front door that would make ours look like friendly banter," she sighed, running a hand through her damp hair.

"No, no, absolutely not, I am not going to do a tour of my hometown. If you and that red-haired witch want to frolic through the fields you can be my guest," she declared as she almost vibrated with overt jealousy. "You can decide on what specific locations to visit over some wine, coordinate your performances, maybe even see if she can fit in that absolutely ridiculous dress that I was given to wear around the village." The green-eyed monster envy had started to consume the princess elect and make her even more rebellious than previously. Her threats were not entirely idle. Queen Camilla's leverage had lessened once the rebellion had made it apparent that they had the funds to provide financial security to the Black family members. That, and a recent infatuation with Luke, had been the two figurative carrots they could dangle to keep her loyal to the cause.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

After what felt like an eternity of waiting filled with tension, there was a knock at the door. Solae let out a sigh of relief that echoed through her communicator as she summoned her courage and answered the door. Two guards stood in front of the taller and larger Syshin that they were allegedly protecting her from. The duchess in disguise stood aside silently to give all four admittance to the suite. One guard swept the room as a precautionary measure. He did not expect a lady looking for a romp with two aliens to be packing any weaponry; rather, he was combing the quarters to make certain there was no person whom had not paid hiding or items that might become improvised weapons to the slaves in question. They had to safeguard their property and income stream. The second of the two hired thugs delivered a monotone disclosure of what was allowed (nearly everything), what was not allowed (permanent harm and disfigurement), and the protocol for if she felt if she was in imminent danger. No matter how docile the pair of the males she had ordered seemed, they had superior strength to the lady wanting their services, thus the guards were responsible for protecting their customer if something went awry.

Truthfully Solae paid little attention to what they had to say. She nodded when appropriate, gave her verbal confirmation she understood their instructions, and ushered them out of the room as soon as it was pragmatically possible. No one so much as raised a brow at this. The guards had their share of overeager women impatient about shoving them out of the door, either because they were excited to get started or because they were haughty socialites that didn't care to be in the presence of, much listen to, someone of a lower station. If anything, her aloof behavior and desire to get them to exit further sold the ruse.

As she spun around to confront the two Syshin she found them standing together near the bed about to shuffle off some of the furs they were wearing. For a second she was so horrified at them undressing that she forgot how to speak. Of course they thought this was what they were supposed to do since every other appointment of this nature began with them being nude. "Wait- please," she managed, "that won't be necessary." This first sentence was spoken fluently in the tongue of the Syshin, but it was chased with mumbling to herself in the common imperial language. "How ridiculous. The Syshin wear woven fabrics, not furs."

It was hard to say what stunned the Syshin more: that she didn't want them to disrobe, that she used the word 'please,' that she spoke in Syshin, or that she knew enough about their culture to appreciate how inappropriate their outfits were. The one she recognized as 138 stared at her dumbfounded but afraid to ask any offensive questions. The braver of the two, 427, scrutinized her for several long seconds.

"What do you want us to do?" he asked in a rumbling voice deeper than most of his brethren she had encountered before. He was gruff but, given a history of wanton abuse, she would have been surprised if he had perfect manners. Rather than taking the liberty of assuming his leasor's intentions he waited directions.

"I want to apologize and ask for your help," Solae said in Syshin. There was a pervasive silence as 138 and 427 exchanged glances and looked wildly uncomfortable at this unraveling situation. They were still apprehensive that this was some sort of role play, but the respectful way in which she spoke and her humble body language was beginning to plant seeds of doubt that this was even remotely sexual in nature. No one had ever spoken their language much less offered apologies and requested help. Had they been human they might have pinched themselves to assure they were not immersed in a bizarre dreamscape.

"Our help?" asked 138 tentatively. "We don't understand..." he drifted off.

They watched with bewilderment and then stupefied expressions as Solae carefully lowered herself to the floor and then to her knees in a universal sign of contrition. The potency of this gesture was not lost on the Syshin. She was vulnerable and prone while they towered over her, the shorter of the pair well above Rene's genetically engineered height, with no apparent way to defend herself except verbally. "I want to apologize for the way you've been treated by humanity thus far. I can't begin to make reparations, but if you'll help me, I'd ask you both to accompany me as bodyguards when I leave Zatis."

"You did not bring us here to... mate?" inquired 138 curiously in a more mild, mellowed tone than his companion.

"No, I already have a mate. I brought you here because your mistress would not willingly allow you to leave and because it is important to me that you chose for yourself whether or not you accept my offer. You would not be slaves like you are to Miss Thorne. You would have your own bed, your own possessions, you would be able to voice your own thoughts, and you could end your employment if you decide you no longer wish to follow me," she explained while remaining in the same position.

"This is a trick from Mistress Thorne," the one called 427 told 138 in agitation. "No human would ever offer us freedom."

"We thought no human would learn our language," the other Syshin pointed out quietly, "and she knows our people do not wear furs, she apologizes, she kneels. Mistress Thorne would never hire someone like this."

After brief contemplation of the facts presented, 427 quickly strode forward and put one large hand around Solae's throat to test her convictions. She did not react. They stood there, the proud Syshin bent over, the duchess still as a statute with her hands at her sides in determination not to show she was violent. The linguist closed her eyes and wondered if her blind trust in strangers might be her undoing but mere seconds crawled by before she was released. 427 had to concede that she had proven her sincerity.

"Why us?" he demanded.

"Because the people after me are humans as well," she confessed solemnly, "and the rewards they are offering to other humans are great. Your people have only ever shown me kindness. I want to prove to the empire that you deserve more rights and recognition than any of you are currently given."

"Why should we believe you?" he asked as he stepped back and crossed his arms.

"If I am lying then you will return to Thorne's pits, but if I'm not, this might be your only chance, your best chance to escape. If you don't want to take the risk then I will leave. If you elect to come with me then we will incapacitate the guards and sneak off Zatis- both of you, myself, my mate, and a young girl that we have also freed from Thorne," she promised.

"I will go," announced 138 as he pushed past 427 and awkwardly lent his hand to Solae to help her stand.

"We will both go," added 427, "and we will see if you tell the truth."

The Betrothed

After a lifetime of waking at dawn to tend to the needs of the farm, when Rhiane finally opened her eyes that morning she was almost ashamed of the hours that exhaustion had claimed, as it felt sinful to have 'overslept.' Fortunately, she had nothing on the schedule until closer to the afternoon. The princess elect dressed herself in a cozy knit sweater, a pair of slacks, and thick wool sockets as she curled up on the chair and poured over all the press coverage of their preceding day. She had become an overnight media sensation. Glowing reviews praised her humility, her robust knowledge about the day-to-day struggles of commoners, her wit when discussing complex matters of agriculture, the warmth with which she received everyone, the manner in which she had an endless stream of compliments regardless of the social stature of her audience.

There was no doubt as to her value to the crown. She might have gloated had she not known that Luke would be disapproving of her making a larger target of herself for the resistance. His apprehensions aside, she had elevated the entire royal family by the display of her charisma and charm, and while the nobility might turn their noses up at her choice of work clothes when designer fashion was at her disposal, there was no denying she had endeared herself to a broad international audience that vastly outnumbered the pretentious aristocracy. An anonymous foreign diplomat was quoted as saying that, "Miss Black showcases all the best that New Rome has to offer and sets a precedent for what other country leaders must aim for if they wish to stand on center stage." Rhiane smiled to herself at the implication she was someone that other kingdoms would envy. There was a heavy responsibility in becoming a role model, but it was nice to have the admiration, to be looked up to rather than down upon.

The medical staff had insisted upon a physical exam once she had been roused from slumber. They first inspected her throat, which they concluded was healed sufficiently that her dietary restrictions were lifted, removed the brace from her arm but cautioned her to not do anything too stressful or taxing, and did an overall wellness check. What no one said aloud was that they knew the betrothed couple were having relations. This put everyone on high alert, especially the royal physicians, that the health of their princess elect was even more important. It was unlikely a single day would result in conception, but they couldn't discount the possibility of a pregnancy in the near future, and their record had to reflect every measure was taken to safeguard the mother and future heir.

All Rhiane cared about was that this meant she could eat her sweet breakfast pastries in peace. It would have been peaceful, that was, had it not been for the intrusion of an unfamiliar female voice. She lifted her gaze from the article she was reading when Luce was mentioned. To hear that she was 'relieved,' a more kind way of saying she was fired, was not the sort of news she had hoped for. The queen must have taken issue with the beginning leg of their tour to have taken such drastic action. The princess elect did not know what specifically had galvanized the decision, but she already disliked the smooth-talking replacement.

In the span of a mere few seconds the good mood brewing in the cabin had been dispelled as Rhiane's disposition soured considerably. Not only was she a reminder that Luke was a playboy that had bedded half of the eligible bachelorettes he crossed paths with, she brought news that would have enraged the former peasant in any situation. "Visiting my home town was not on the itinerary for today," she stated with a cold edge that made her feelings known.

"Please, do not let me interrupt your discussion," she continued, "since it seems it was Luke that you came to see." Rhiane had been quite clear about her genuine affection for the crown prince. While he had reciprocated her attraction, he had not made any grand confessions of actual infatuation, and the appearance of Anelle made her assume the worst. Instead of thinking that he might be coming to care for her as a person, now she doubted all his intentions and motivations, as she was admittedly the only woman available to him with which he could indulge certain urges. Luke knew her better than anyone else on the plane save Tobias, so it was within his capabilities to surmise what internal dialogue might be fueling her cool reception.

If Anelle thought that she might be able to make Rhiane more compliant than Luce, she had quite the uphill battle ahead of her.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I have a gift of my own for you," Solae said, turning in her chair as she heard the illicit broker enter the room. She knew that Rene disapproved of how broadly she trusted Ten, despite all his help, but given the risky mission she was already undertaking later that evening, she knew that the soldier's frustration would be mitigated so as to focus his emotions on the greater imminent danger. The present of half a million credits probably also helped endear the criminal to the marine. "Before you get too excited, did you find me a new costume?" she inquired as she stood and crossed the study to where he was standing.

"I did," he acknowledged with a brow raised in intrigue. "Since a disguise is to be expected of a lady partaking in the services of male Syshin, I took the liberty of selecting something more adventurous, both to be in-line with what is typical and because I thought you might find it enjoyable." Ten snapped his fingers and one of his house servants rolled in a small display with a long bright blue wig in an unnatural hue, a dress that came to mid-thigh when standing upright and left little to the imagination with its plunging neckline, and a pair of stilettos that would unequivocally seal the image of a woman looking for a certain type of indulgence. It was tasteful despite approaching vulgarity. With a sly smile Ten glanced at Rene as he could only surmise how tortured the man would be to see his fiancee in such an ensemble and with no way to express his appreciation.

"You've outdone yourself!" Solae announced with a bright smile as she moved forward to inspect the rack. Another woman might be offended at the overtly sensual party outfit. She knew that she would not be committing any unforgivable sin that night, though, and so to her it was merely what she called it- a costume- something fun to lighten the weight on her shoulders. She dared not admit aloud that she was more scared of the hotel rendezvous than the embassy. With the embassy she had Rene beside her. His presence imparted a reassurance that no matter if they succeeded or failed they would do it together. At the hotel she would be alone to drug a guard, convince two alien strangers to trust her, and hope that none of them seriously harmed her in the process.

"Are you really going to wear that?" Criesta asked with an incredulous tone. She was beginning to doubt which one in the couple was more odd. To see a duchess so thrilled about attire that made her look like a tramp temporarily distracted her from her patient. Perhaps it was their highly irregular behavior that could be attributed to their successes. Not just anyone, she mentally conceded, could have accomplished as much as they had. One day she many very well see their likeness splashed across imperial advertisements as heroes that turned the tides of war. This was assuming, of course, their recklessness did not get them killed.

"I absolutely am going to wear it," Solae affirmed. "Thank you," she said to Ten before standing on her toes and planting a kiss on his cheek. Composed though he was, his surprise was still evident. It only doubled as she tugged on his arm, pulled out a small storage device, and pressed it into his palm. It was hard to say what was more perplexing- this undeserving sign of friendly affection or the produced item. Solae and Rene had so little to offer he had sincerely not expected anything in reciprocation.

"That is all the information I found in the Falia vault on the list of names you produced, the ones that work with Ralch," she told him. They had both known what had been provided to him prior had redactions- and he had not blamed them for that. They had held up their end of the bargain in procuring data that was helpful and he had given them the means to exploit it. To have anything more he certainly recognized as a generous gift.

"May I ask why..." he began slowly.

"When we're gone I want to make certain that we left you better off than when we came. There's nothing I can do to guarantee that Thorne and Bhast won't discover you helped us, but this will tip things back in you favor and... well, I can't say I approve of your business, but if someone in Zatis is going to be the one everyone is forced to respect, I'd rather it be you," she said with bluntly with her characteristic kindness.

Ten was silent a moment. To Criesta this was a sign he was deep in though and nothing more, but Solae and Rene, as nobles trained in the arts of the courts, they could see that he was moved by this declaration. The kingpin cleared his throat to shake it off before inclining his head. "Thank you," he said simply.

"I suppose I ought to get changed," Solae said. "Is there any chance the dresses from the other day are among the inclusions you made to our supplies?" she added with a faux innocence.

"Among other things, yes," he confirmed. "It would be a mark upon my hospitality if I did any less," he alleged, though it was more likely he had no use for the women's clothing after Solae was gone. They had been precisely tailored to her measurements. Not only that, he did not entertain female guests regularly as they were not his preference.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Fortunately for the duchess and her beau, Alayla Thorne was not the sort of woman that bothered herself with personally arranging the 'services' of her male Syshin fighters with those that might desire a sordid distraction. Prostitution was not illegal on Zatis. In the greater Stellar Empire it was outlawed, with discrete individuals frequently circumventing notice or punishment, but it was a criminal enterprise that flourished on the outlying world. As such, it was customary for interested parties to make their requests and pay digitally to minimize overhead, maximize efficiency, and allow the veil of relative anonymity to remain intact.

Connecting to the planetary network brought up a variety of options for private meetings. Once Thorne's offerings were displayed the obstacles they had to overcome became more insignificant. Ten shuffled his funds around on a regular basis and all but a few accounts were untraceable, unattached to his identity, and disposable, as was typical of those in his profession. This left two choices: which two particular Syshin of the ones listed available they wanted to ask for and at which location. Being the shrewd businesswoman she was, Thorne would either send her slaves to a building she owned or a third-party hotel, but anywhere else required her review and approval, something they could not risk.

"Alayla uses numbers for the Syshin," Rosaria helpfully explained as they stared at the portraits. "The women have even numbers and the men have odd numbers."

"She has female Syshin?" Solae asked in mild surprise. The portfolio they were perusing edged on grotesque. There was a picture of each Syshin's face, which was understandable, but there were also images of their bodies clad in nothing but a loincloth, clearly meant to entice lonely souls. The aristocrats had been horrified, of course, but also curious as to why if she had no respect for her underlings why she did not make them pose nude. After a little while it became slightly more apparent that this was done to avoid giving away too much of the "experience" and add to an element of "mystery."

"Private servants," the teenager confirmed, "but not many. She sells most of them to her associates and partners. Alayla doesn't think that they are as good of fighters and they wear down more quickly on the rock hoppers." The reasoning was immoral but not factually wrong. Even with the Syshin, the men were larger, stronger, and more acclimated to hard labour tasks. Keeping the women could also add another layer of complexity if they fell in love with another slave or became pregnant. It was safer for someone in the trade to ferry the gender they did not wish to keep out to others to maintain order with minimal expenses.

"Do you know if any of these," the diplomat asked with a gesture to the screen, "were one of the ones that tried to escape and were recpatured? Or if any of them are more insubordinate than the rest?" One that had already been defiant enough to try to leave once might be more willing to trust in Solae than the rest. Either way it was a gamble, but she wanted to stack things in her favor if at all possible. The more desperate they were the more they would be willing to risk the 'devil' they didn't know rather than the one they did. She had not illusions that was how she would be viewed- just another demon exploiting the gentle race of aliens.

Rosaria looked uncertain for a moment before a number caught her eye. "That one, 427, I've overheard them complaining about him before," she said. It was obvious the youth was reluctant about taking on two bodyguards who harbored resentment for her ex-mistress and had enough muscle mass they could pose a serious risk if anything went awry. It was the duchess's absolute confidence in the Syshin- and her need to get off Zatis by any means necessary- that made her confide this information.

"We'll request 427, then," Solae affirmed before settling on another who looked more downtrodden than the rest and numbered 138. Rosaria was unfamiliar with him, and Rene gently inquired if she was sure, but the overflowing compassion in the linguist made her unable to look the other way. Number 138 might have the most melancholic expression but he was just as physically impressive as his peers.

"I'll schedule for tomorrow night," she declared as she finalized to have 427 and 138 sent to a hotel room that Ten thought was the safest given the other options. They would need time for Solae to don yet another costume, one that would make her unrecognizable for check-in and initial reception, and to prepare the methods of extraction. "Is Criesta still around?"

"Probably, why?" Rene asked with a raised brow.

"I think I have an idea for the guards that doesn't involve shooting," she disclosed. "Ambushing them would be difficult even in the best of circumstances, but we can't rely on a discharge not alerting someone that something is amiss; we should err on the side of caution," she elaborated more for Rosaria's benefit than the soldier. Solae could tell that the girl was disappointed though the recently-liberated protege knew better than to object before listening to the alternative.

"Is Criesta still on the premises?" she asked as she picked up the internal communication device for the compound. Ten had left their company when it became evident that Solae needed more than a few minutes to deliberate over what Syshin she most wanted out of the dozens Thorne owned. He had patience, but it was not endless, and he had things to oversee if he wanted to continue accruing his wealth.

"She is," Ten replied dryly with a hint of concern, "has Rene relapsed or torn open his wound?"

"No no, I need her expertise to help make a compound. Could you have someone connect me to her personal number? It's nothing she needs to be here for, at least not until it's ready for delivery," she told her benefactor calmly. Suspicion veritably radiated through the phone before he let out a sigh of resignation and there was a soft beeping noise to indicate the call was being forwarded.

"Criesta?" she said as soon as she heard it connect. "Is there any chance that you could make Sopor IV if I send you the formula?"

Sopor was a line of sedatives used almost exclusively in warfare and espionage. It could either be administered via ingestion if in a powdered form, which was slower acting and had a shorter duration, but was tasteless and odorless, or a injection could be utilized, which was obviously took effect more quickly, and was more potent, but was instantly discoverable by witnesses and the victim after the fact. It was one of many pharmaceuticals that a tolerance could be built up against, but only the nobility had the time and resources to create an immunity, and it was kept secret from the public this was even a possibility.

Solae did not have complete trust in Rosaria and guns could not be easily smuggled into her Syshin encounter. An injection device could. If they could bring Sopor IV, the newest and best line of the drug, and use that to compromise Thorne's guards, they wouldn't have to kill anyone. Not only that, if the teenager betrayed them in the 11th hour she would find the sedative worthless against the duchess and the colonel, and they would only have the inconvenience of trying to determine how to punish her duplicity.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"They're more technologically advanced than we are, so there is a certain amount of deference given," she began slowly. Working as a diplomat required her to be more thoroughly educated on the history between the human race and other intelligent species in the galaxy than other citizens. There was a plethora of information on the Syshin, as they had been absorbed into the empire due to their subjective inferiority, but when it came to the Kalderi the foot was on the other figurative foot. There was an implicit understanding that the Kalderi, if they were so inclined, could obliterate humanity as handily as they had prior to The Collapse. Even the most pompous noble did not dare to negotiate the sale of precious pieces of art with a hint of arrogance or aggression. They feared the strength of the Kalderi just as they had made the Syshin fear them.

"That being said, while they are distrusting, they are not unreasonable," Solae asserted. "Officially we believe the Jeweled Armada could have continued on its path of destruction but elected not to do so. Merchants report that contact with them is cordial so long as they are fair with their exchanges. I'm confident they will not shoot us down on our approach," she elaborated as that was perhaps the most important point to make, "since they respond to aggression but do not themselves seem to incite it when they have ample opportunity." The buffer zone was maintained by the Kalderi but, when the odd ship drifted too close due to a navigational error or due a malfunction that culminated in loss of piloting functions, they were merely escorted out. Gaining an audience would be trickier, but they were significantly less dangerous to approach for a parley than the coup's forces.

"My theory is that in their eyes humans are an invasive pest that, unprovoked, murdered their colonists. Whatever empress or emperor was on the throne at the time would have swiftly retaliated had the Stellar Empire been the victim instead. There is no incentive for them to bridge an alliance, either. Humanity enslaved the other aliens they came across, which paints a callous picture, one of us as warmongers," the duchess explained. "If we can show them otherwise they might be persuaded to assist. They consume our great works, so they have interest in some of our endeavors, just not all. If we show humility and empathy it will be a side of ourselves that is more palatable. Having two Syshin guards will help prove we're not cut from the same cloth as Duke Tan."

"More selfishly, though, I want to be the one to bridge the gap," she admitted as she closed her eyes and let herself rest a moment. Her mind was still whirling through the images of her studies on the pre-Collapse expansion, but her body was relaxed, and the mattress felt heavenly beneath her back. "No one really tries. We're so self-focused we forget about all the wonders still out there," she added more wistfully, a quiet yearning in her voice. "I want to see what their cities are like, what animals are in their forests, hear their language, talk about what stories they pass down to their children, hear about the traditions of their ancestors, or what common ailments we have. I'd be happy just to have a tour, to shake their hands with a smile, and then leave to do battle against Duke Tan by ourselves. Wouldn't it be amazing to just say we've met them?"

The duchess fell silent but a moment and then gave an impish grin. "Do you think if the Kalderi married us that the empress would be forced to recognize it through any new treaties? We could make it an absolute necessity," she laughed lightly, ever-focused on cementing this union with her fiance. There were worse fixations a woman could have about the most important person in her life. Giving a sigh of resignation she curled up and looked at him more seriously.

"You're not well enough to take on a mission right now, so if we're going to recruit bodyguards before we're forced to leave Zatis, I may have to do this without you," she told him softly. "Rosaria and I won't be able to handle a shoot out no matter what weapons Ten can provide. I might have to... purchase them, or compel someone to let me buy them, as much as I would prefer not to support the business. If we're cheated then we can have a firefight," she suggested, "but not before." Rene would not be pleased with this plan. The duchess and the teenager were not soldiers and having them out of view for any length of time, while engaging in a high risk situation, was bound to make him exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Do you have any criteria for what we should be looking for? Traits that would be more beneficial than others? I trust your judgment more than Rosaria's in selecting someone with the right aptitude. I can gauge their general disposition but I'm less adept at analyzing physical and mental qualities that translate into the best marine material."

The Betrothed

When he admitted that he was still angry with her she deflated inwardly, her embrace slackening slightly, uncertain how he might further react. That morning she had revealed her feelings to him. It had not been a proclamation of love, but she had voiced aloud that she wanted him, had all but confessed that despite all their philosophical differences that she cared for him beyond the obligation of their engagement. Luke had accepted her. They had slept together yet he had not put a voice or name to his thoughts. Because he had chosen to withhold it made her apprehensive for she did not quite know where she stood; sometimes he acted as if they were truly in a romantic relationship while other times he seemed to barely tolerate her presence. Limbo put her ill at ease. Rhiane was acutely aware that rejection could at any moment be coldly flung at her.

What he said next perplexed her. As the crown prince spun around she tried to make sense of how she might make it difficult for him to make 'the right choices.' The former farmer stared at him, blinking and uncomprehending, wondering if it was a criticism or compliment. He did not elaborate. It was he had that had come into the women's bath nude, who had dismissed Tobias, who had wanted to play a game in which they pretended to be other people. Perhaps he was referring to the tour event earlier, yet that had been a success, and it hardly seemed she had hindered him. She was fairly confident the evening news was singing its praises of the princess elect and her ability to charm everyone she met with her dazzling smile and astute observations. The sultry brunette was still pondering his odd declaration when he pulled her closer.

Eyes opened wide as he leaned and kissed her. She melted into his arms. It was said that actions spoke louder than words, and while she still yearned for the sweetness most couples vocalized, she was thrilled at his eagerness, and how he did not hesitate in pursuing her. The gesture pushed them back a step into the warmth of the water as she ardently returned the kiss. On the best of days they might be able to hide their growing attraction to one another. Today, however, the clear liquid in which they bathed did not obscure their nude figures. It would have been impossible to hide their desires. This was one of the many justifications she gave herself for indulging in the allure of the handsome blonde that had captivated her.

Luke pulled away and she stared. At first she thought he might be trying to find an excuse to leave, but the kiss to her forehead and subsequent sentences made it evident he had no such intention. Their arrangement was odd. Among all the engagements the crown had over the decades, she doubted that any had a magnetic push and pull dynamic quite like theirs. Rhiane had thought it was only she that was more enamored with him, despite their fights, but as he spoke she realized that she was not alone. To hear him say he wanted to kiss her even when he was furious, that he didn't want her to fight his battles for him, that she had nothing to prove was profoundly moving. He was for those precious seconds not a prince.

None of her dalliances had broached an emotional attachment. It was the first time anyone had told her they didn't need or want her to 'fight their battles for them.' Both her father and brother had been dependent on her. They relied on her to confront, to negotiate, to represent them in all but the most personal matters. The entire Black family had tempers but it was always up to her to reign in the figurative beast and assume control- regardless of whether or not she wanted a reprieve. More monumental was the assertion that she had nothing to prove. The queen had contracted her to elevate them in the public image, which inherently required her to prove her worth every hour in front of a camera, every day she was attached to the monarchy, every month she was allowed to live. A few errant tears formed at the edges of her eyes as she met his gaze. He had very casually provided her with a glimpse of approval she had spent over half her life seeking.

"Luke, I..." she began, but he had seized the opportunity to kiss her again. The force of their collision sent ripples through the pool. Rhiane abandoned all her thoughts as she let herself be swept into passion. They were alone, not even a bodyguard to eavesdrop, and there was no reason to stop. Everyone expected them to fall prey to these temptations; it was even encouraged. Candidates for the contest were told they'd be lucky to have the touch of a royal, and the royals were similarly told the candidates would be aesthetically pleasing and warm their beds if nothing else. Surely Queen Camilla herself knew that binding her eldest son to his fiancee could very well lead them into trysts, something she likely preferred over the scandalous headlines the playboy made regularly if for no other reason a proper heir must be produced.

Any chance they had of leaving the spring had been dashed. She was a fire whose flames had been stoked, her vigor returned, her skin increasingly hot, and its cause having nothing to do with their surroundings. They drifted back towards the edge of the pool, towards one of the steps that offered more support than the depths alone could. Now that he had incited the tempestuous woman he'd have to satisfy her before she'd even think to leave, much less retire, because the burst of energy demanded immediate use, and she saw only him.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I'm not suggesting recruiting mercenaries," Solae said slowly, still hesitant and thoughtful about the proposition she was about to make. She was acutely aware that she had an unorthodox approach and mindset. While she trusted Rene implicitly, and did not doubt either his virtue or loyalty, she knew that he would not be treading farther away from societal expectation without her lead. She did not envy the empress. Because of her position, she took on the responsibility of guiding the entire empire and must, even if she did not admit it to any of her citizens, occasionally stop and doubt her choices. The diplomat stayed her tongue for a moment. Her soldier would not follow her blindly but she wanted to quell the doubt in her heart that she was even voicing a dangerous notion.

After the prolonged pause she finally continued. "Depending on how liberally we interpret the laws, rules, and regulations for the recruitment of troops in times of war, we might be able to create a force that is... not entirely human. There are people that Duke Tan won't recruit, Rene, people that he thinks are beneath him and wouldn't lower himself to appeal to. More than two Syshin would follow us to us to escape abuse, to gain some recognition, and fight for a chance at liberty. Veterans and spies might be coaxed out of retirement. Let's also not forget that all the destruction and death he's wrought will create enemies. Those who have lost their loved ones to him will jump at an opportunity to reap revenge."

"Do you remember that sword from Lord Armon's?" she added as she stood and wandered the room, not quite pacing, but too excited at their prospects to stay still and sitting. Once they were traveling through space she'd be confined to less spacious quarters. She wanted to take advantage of this chance to stretch her legs and let her mind meander as her feet did. A superior at the embassy claimed that roaming through the building helped him think. Solae had doubted this at the time because the break room was his most frequent stop in such journeys. "It was of Kalderi make and origin. Historically they don't involve themselves with humanity, but if we can show signs of good faith for other races, we might be able to forge an alliance. At the very least it's worth trying."

"But before we can do anything we need resources... and for you to recover. Making any plans now feels slightly moot since we have limited space on the Bonaventure, we're on a world pre-disposed to working against us, one of us is severely wounded, and the other ill-equipped to handle much battle. We're a huge imposition on Ten but I'm not sure what else can be done except lay low until we find the means to leave," the duchess sighed. It was dispiriting to consider that their stature had been elevated but they were still rather helpless in the face of adversity. Not as much had changed with their respective appointments to give a tangible advantage. Titles were empty words until there were people to give them meaning. A count could be slain just as easily as a merchant during times of conflict.

"Is it too late to just decide to get married and have a couple kids?" she asked only half-joking. "I think technically we can get married now that you're a colonel and I can absolutely guarantee there's a run down shack here that lets people under the influence get married for a nominal fee. Having a couple kids might be a little more complicated, but I'd be shocked if they didn't have a workaround for that as well, for those who want to do things the old-fashioned way." It was a wistful fantasy and not reality. Normally she would not advocate for domestic bliss, but she yearned for simpler times, for when she did not go to sleep at night worrying whether or not the only person left alive she loved would succumb to his injuries. Watching Rene had been harrowing. The first day she had sat by his side but then had been chased out when it became evident she was herself worsening.

"I suppose it'd be poor form for a newly-appointed duchess to elope," Solae conceded before arriving at the bed and laying upon it. Her back was stiff from sitting at the desk for hours on end. Were she in the company of someone less incapacitated she might have felt she had a right to complain. Hiding her discomfort and turning on her side she shrugged. "What do you think we should do? You've the more tactical mind. What's the best way of extricating ourselves?"

The Betrothed

"Are you sure you were seeking approval from the right people?" Rhiane asked somewhat pointedly, though she was not trying to provoke him into another verbal war. "Some are impossible to please, and will criticize what you say and do, because they demand an unattainable perfection. There are others, though, that would give you that approval of your hard work if you only gave them the chance," she added more softly. She knew that as crown prince he felt there was always an opportunity to approve; this she understood. Never getting the gratification of validation, of praise, of appreciation could be detrimental, however, and crush him were he not careful. Silently she wondered if Queen Camilla ever lavished upon him for his accomplishments. As an outsider she had presumed that the sovereign struck the right balance between being too stern and too lenient. As of late she was not so certain that Luke was not operating in a vacuum of positive reinforcement unless it was a sycophant.

"I'm not too tired," she protested lamely as he entwined his fingers but then was overcome with evident concern. The former farmer was lying to herself more than him. The fact she hadn't even buckled herself into the vehicle before promptly falling asleep on the short ride to the mountain oasis was indicative of her depleted energy level. While the hot spring had rejuvenated her, and she was not as listless and exhausted as she had been before arriving, it did not contain magical properties. That she would succumb to slumber before him was all but inevitable. Only her stubborn desire to cling to waking hours kept her fully upright and cognizant.

Just as she was starting to piece together an argument for staying he mentioned watching a movie or the news and ordering wine. Rhiane watched his backside as he drifted away towards the shallow end of the pool in confusion. This interlude of peace and flirting had been a welcome departure from their bickering. She had enjoyed it for what it was, a distraction from all their trials and tribulations, but she hadn't allowed herself to expect that it would impact his feelings about her on a whole. She was still a commoner that had insisted on dressing in peasant clothing, who had refused his plea to wear her designer dress with his coat, who had boldly defied her instructions for how to behave with the public. The event had been a great success. That did not mean, however, he forgave her for her perceived transgressions, and she did not bank on time smoothing over his frustrations.

After a few moments of hesitation she followed behind him, but rather than reaching for her garment, she wound her arms around his midsection. She was not trying to seduce him- though if he was she would not have been upset- but rather than she was seeking some manner of reassurance through physical contact. "You're not still mad at me for the tour?" she ventured. It was a sore topic she knew. Her voice faltered slightly, the late hour and toll of the day making her emotions more exposed, making her words more sincerely vulnerable than they might be otherwise. "I knew it made you angry, but I wanted to do my best, to succeed so that everyone could see how well I could do," she murmured. "I wanted to prove myself."

Rhiane paused. No matter how compromised she was from everything that had occurred, she was still reluctant to solicit an opinion from Luke. Most of the times he was thoughtful and considerate it was not on account of her feelings. Asking him for an objective assessment of her performance was an invitation for another prejudiced blow. Earlier he had not let their intimacy inhibit him from disclosing how mentally inferior he found the lower class to be. There was no guarantee he'd be kinder now than he had then. Before she knew what she was doing she spoke again, her lips brushing against his skin as she tightened her hold. "Will you really stay with me when I sleep?"

She was too proud to admit it, but she was afraid to be alone. Lia and Octavia were fine bodyguards. They would protect her from external threats she had no doubt. Neither woman would hold her when a nightmare struck, or soothe away her anxiety, or understand how terrified she had been when she had seen someone die right before her eyes. Luke came from the same world as the noblewomen did, as did Tobias, but neither was as formal and distant as her female retinue. The thought of relying upon them to rouse her from haunting memories and to watch over her as she tried to rest was more than mildly uncomfortable. In a few weeks or months she might trust them more with her heart, but she did not know, and would almost rather brave the horrors of isolation than their judgmental company.