Syrenrei

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Before Mia was installed on the Bonaventure, she oversaw a nobleman acquaintance's home, and should still have a wealth of information available on the sociopolitical hierarchy of the Stellar Empire's aristocracy. You can query her on what a handmaiden is and make a decision for yourself," Solae said encouragingly. She personally thought it was the best idea given Rosaria's predilections and training through Thorne. The youth had been groomed to be shrewd, cunning, and perceptive. This was a potentially deadly combination should their youngest companion betray them, but it made her especially suited for anything remotely related to espionage, and could be the difference between fading to obscurity or rising to the upper echelons of the elite. Upon further consideration, the duchess had to admit internally that the way the girl had been raised to be cutthroat was not unlike a few esteemed prestigious families on Capella.

"While we're on the topic of advantages, I think Rene and Rosaria should endeavor to learn some Syshi. It could be useful for all of us to be able to converse in a language that is not the common tongue. We'll be able to have more covert discussions, will help prove ourselves as pioneers of inter-species relationships, and make it easier on me if I'm not always bridging the gap of misunderstandings. When our muscles are tired we can stretch our minds," she proposed.

Rosaria was less than thrilled about this prospect. While she was eager to learn, and having a 'secret' language most humans didn't speak was appealing, it was still not her first choice. There was a negative stigma associated with the Syshin race. She hid her frown well but her body posture was reflective of her lack of enthusiasm. "Just Syshi?" she ventured.

"It won't be easy to master," Solae forewarned diplomatically. "Yarue and Dasin have had years and near-total immersion to become bilingual," she continued, "I can understand that hearing me speak Syshi, and the two of them speak Imperial common, can give the impression it will be a simple matter that will only take you a week. That is not the case. If you are truly dedicated, and can become fully articulate in Syshi, then I will be happy to teach you another language. Trust me when I say, though," she leaned forward with a smile that made her eyes sparkle with mischief, "some of my colleagues at the embassy called me mad for taking on so many languages."

"You knew the most?" Rosaria asked intrigued. The two Syshin looked up with a shared curiosity. What drove their so-called benefactors interested them more than they admitted aloud. Once they understood all of Solae and Rene's motivations it would be easier for them to solidify how much time and energy they would be willing to commit to their causes.

"A true lady doesn't reveal how many languages she speaks," she replied with a wink before sitting back in her chair with a pensive expression. "That might be a tactic to employ with Yarue and Dasin, if you two are agreeable. It shouldn't be necessary with the Kaldorei, but when we are with those we don't trust, I could converse with you exclusively in Syshi. It would leave others to believe that you do not speak common and they might incidentally reveal things through their words that they would not otherwise. Again, it is your choice," she emphasized. "It would give us something of a potential advantage, but I do not wish to make you feel uncomfortable if you feel it is deception by omission."

"We have much to think about," Yarue said in a solemn tone. It was overwhelming for the Syshin; to have nearly unlimited access to a vast array of information, equal treatment by their new employers/hosts, consideration for their emotions, respect for their desires, and an adventure to a distant part of the galaxy even humanity had not dared to approach. "May we retire, mistress?"

"Of course, you need not ask my permission. Let Mia know if you need anything. The cargo is also for all of us to share if you are too cold, and the galley is open to you if you are thirsty in the middle of the night. I realize that that my title makes this a little awkward, but when we are traveling like this there is no need to be formal," she smiled. "I'll clean up," Solae announced firmly with no room for argument for an objection to her handling the chore.

Dasin and Yarue took their leave first, chatting excitedly in whispers about the secrets they might uncover on their devices. The duchess found it refreshing to see Yarue, who had been so melancholic and despondent in his pictures for Thorne's services, invigorated with hope. Rosaria more reluctantly went to her room, but even she seemed jubilant at not having a sense of ownership and privacy that had never been afforded to her before. Rene lingered behind, and almost voiced an argument for him assisting her at the very least, but the way she instructed him to lay down and wait for her made it clear she wanted him to save his strength.

It had been a long day. When they had departed Zatis it was after sunset and well into the evening hours. Despite the late hour, Rene's healing injury, and the ugly bruise on Solae's thigh, the former marquise elected to abuse the privilege of soundproofed captain's quarters. Once again they had emerged victorious. Once again they had survived circumstances that ought to have resulted in their death. She would not lose her opportunity to celebrate their promotions, the success at the embassy, or what precious fact they were alive. It was not until Rene was unable to continue any longer that she released him from what she called 'his duties as an official fiance' that night.

The Betrothed

In the past they had argued and then gone their separate ways without resolution for a variety of reasons, the most prominent of which was their incompatible world views. Because they could not agree on the facts of reality- such as whether or not Tobias held affections for the princess elect or if the working class was plagued by ignorance and laziness- that it made coming to an understanding impossible. Culminating frustrations, stubbornness, and pride kept them apart. Rhiane felt that she made too many concessions already to consider more compromises. Luke, who was a crown prince and future king, likely felt he ought not to have to bicker incessantly with a woman who held no real power. It was surprising to the former farmer, then, that he chose this moment to force more discussion than simmer in discontentment.

Had the door not been locked, Tobias might have stepped through and pull his charge to the safety of her seat. Instead she was pulled by her wrist back into the suite. Once her arm was released from Luke's grasp she stepped backwards and rubbed the spot absently as she glared resolutely at the heir to the throne. Each utterance earned him only more contempt. The chastisement did nothing to convince her that she ought to heed her advice; the insults only fanned the flames of her anger. Rhiane still had doubts about his feelings. Her fear that her growing attachment was one-sided made her hyper-defensive on the subject of Anelle. Anything short of a complete and direct condemnation of her actions made the brunette paranoid he was protecting the redhead, that he was not as finished with her has he claimed, that the Image Manger held his favor instead of her. Never had she been more insecure and jealous. For someone new to romantic relationships and unconcerned about material wealth, this was entirely new.

"I refuse to accept sole responsibility for what happened with Luce," she countered. "Your mother probably replaced her for multiple missteps, not just one. You weren't especially cooperative with her either," Rhiane recalled, alluding to the many times Luke had been dismissive of her guidance, or balked at a suggestion. Regardless of her words, it still weighed on her conscience to know that she might have ruined someone with her actions. The princess elect did not regret. No one instance stood out to her as unjustified behavior, but she disliked that it had come to this, that there was no one that could be appointed to oversee them that would treat her with the respect she deserved. An advisor that didn't look upon her like a ill-bred child was as high as her hopes dared to be.

"And I don't know what you mean by picking Tobias over you. He's just a friend, Luke, the only one I have besides your sister, whom I rarely get to see. The reason I spent so much time talking to him is... he doesn't look down upon me, like I'm stupid or dirty because I wasn't born to rich parents. He listens to me, asks my opinion, makes an occasional joke when everyone else would rather ignore me or stick to their own social stratosphere. The public might love me but I know that not a tear would be shed by any of the staff if I was dropped out of the plane right now," she remarked in a somber, thoughtful tone. It was purely platonic. Her voice didn't betray any hidden affections, but sounded as if she were talking fondly of a close confident, a brother, or someone like Sebastian in whom she could speak freely without risk of rejection.

The true tragedy was that in another situation the passive presence of Tobias would have gone wholly unnoticed. He did not seek Rhiane out openly. It was the quiet shunning within the castle and aristocracy, the insincere flattery, the polite conversation only when required, and the guarding without caring that created a void. A prince elect or princess elect was left standing on the figurative dance floor while clusters of people networked around them, never interacting of their own volition, never accepting. This is what made Luke's cousin so significant. He alone dared to be in close proximity to the lonely figure. Had she garnered honest admirers during the engagement ball then Tobias would have been lost in the crowd. The queen and her faithful, entitled loyalists unknowingly had pressed their precious pawn closer and closer to the open arms of a rebel with ulterior motives.

"Do you promise?" she asked as she let his hands grace her shoulders. Apprehension danced in her eyes. "If it's important to you then I'll make the list, but I want you to review the locations before it's handed over to the witch. If you promise me there isn't anything between you, I'll believe you, but I'm not going to hold myself back if she interrupts us at the wrong moment," she sulked somewhat petulantly. He'd have a harder time persuading her otherwise given the previous morning he had let Tobias see them in a compromising position on purpose.

"A tour of my hometown wasn't part of the plan. This is hard for me," she elaborated, "because some places were my secret sanctuaries, like your island, and some are sites of painful memories. Going on tours and luncheons was what I anticipated when I took the job, not something this personal, and if the same were asked of you while Tobias stroked my arm and invited me on a date, I think you'd have reacted negatively as well. I meant what I said... feelings matter. If you want me to do something, I'll look at it differently than if it comes from your mother, or Anelle, or a request from our security detail."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I should warn you that what little I've seen of slaver records," Solae began slowly, "and that was only right before we took this ship," she clarified quickly, "will not have any recognizable names. They might have a physical description and age, but they might also just have a listing of genders." While she had no objection to him reviewing what information was still stored on the ship, she felt it only prudent to prepare him for how impersonal they would be, and how the data could be frustratingly insufficient. It was not all that different from the distant past when humanity had enslaved subsets of its population for being the wrong political affiliation, the wrong religion, the wrong race, the wrong anything they could arbitrarily decide made one superior to the next. The Stellar Empire liked to believe it had moved on, but evidence pointed to it only repeating itself with the excuse that the Syshin were aliens and thus less entitled to the same liberties.

"I still want to see them," Yarue insisted.

"Mia, can you please make any records the Bonaventure has from the previous owners and their business transactions available? Translate them into Syshi as well so our new friends can read it more easily," she ordered to the AI that was present all around them and constantly eavesdropping.

"Understood, Lady Solae. The crew quarters you have elected do not have a sufficient apparatus for viewing. May I recommend that I make the records available on a handheld device?" she cooed with such blatant sensual favoritism that Rosaria looked instinctively to Rene for a reaction. He just shrugged his shoulders. The couple had grown used to Mia's peculiarities- and it was not as if the sentient machine could actually seduce the duchess. Even if she would, she was an overly emphatic fan of the romance she had witnessed in her vessel.

"Thank you, Mia," Solae nodded as she dug around the cargo hold for a device. She handed one over to Yarue before offering another one to Dasin. Both nodded to her in gratitude reflexively. "May I suggest we save that for after dinner? If you have any trouble with figuring out how to use the device, just call out for Mia no matter where you are and she will assist you."

"Can I have one as well?" Rosaria asked eagerly. What education she had was limited what Thorne specifically approved and was readily available on Zatis. The simple devices that Rene and Solae had used throughout their childhood and adult lives was a foreign freedom, with an exciting amount of forbidden knowledge, that was too tempting to ignore. "Will it tell me about other planets? Or about the empire?" she asked. Thorne had very little respect for the empress, her laws, or the politics that did not affect her business. There was a wealth of questions she wanted answers.

"Of course. Mia will only prohibit you from viewing my and Rene's personal data or making administrative decisions. You won't be able to command the ship, for example, or turn off any of the central controls accidentally. Her programming does have some restrictions that require the authority of the primary owner and user- in this case myself- so if there are any issues or conflicts she will page me for my consent," she explained. It was the nicest way of alerting them that a mutiny was impossible. Solae would not have allowed them aboard if she did not trust all three of them, but the safeguards were in place for a reason, and she did not discount the possibility that all these brave new paths they were blazing might be too much for a person to bear.

"Rene and I went to Amber Horizons," she added more conversationally. "Nari and Enro are the elders there. I do not know how long ago you were on New Concordia, or if you are familiar with that settlement, but they were very kind to us."

"Is that where you learned Syshi?" ventured Dasin. Out of the corner of her eye Solae could see Yarue's shoulders relax. Obviously the drop of two names and ordinary individual would not know was sufficient in proving once more that the noblewoman and solider were honest in their proclaimed allegiance.

"No, I learned it long before. I worked in the embassy as a diplomat with a specialization in linguistics," she smiled with a reminiscent fondness. "There was not any language spoken in which I didn't wish to be fluent. It seemed especially ridiculous to me that there was one spoken so frequently on at least half of the planets in the empire that my peers didn't care to master. It's been a very rewarding experience," the duchess confessed, "because in learning a tongue you learn much about a culture."

"Where are you embassy friends?" Dasin asked. "Why are they not here as well?"

"They were all killed by Duke Tan- or the former duke, since he stylizes himself as an emperor now and the empress has stripped him of his title and bestowed it upon me. They used artillery on the building. I was... the only survivor, and only by accident."

This somber admission made the curious Syshin fall quiet out of respect. Even Rosaria was slightly shaken by the prospect of an adversary that so coldly destroyed what was alluded to as a government structure filled with living, breathing human beings. It took a certain amount of callous malevolence to so easily spill that much blood. Even Thorne would have paused before unleashing that amount of violent. To call it a coup felt like too kind and generous a label.

The Betrothed

His offer was generous yet still missed its mark on Rhiane. The former farmer remained unconvinced that she wanted to elude the grim fate of her predecessors. Gerard, Sebastian, and her father would be all too eager to secure a future wherein she might live to see old age, but the prospect had little appeal to her personally. She wanted to die. It sounded selfish and morbid, but she did not have the hopes of others, and everything before her seemed too bleak to contemplate enduring. What Luke proposed was a world in which she buried her father, watched her brother and his one true love spend an eternity in bliss, while she herself knew she could never have such a blessing, and perhaps buried them as well since they were older. Any children she bore would be raised in a palace beyond her reach, by a team of nannies, groomed and taught to be proper aristocrats that disparaged commoners, ignoring and denying the origins of one of their parents. She would be alone without a purpose. The crown would not suffer itself to let her ambitions reflect on its negatively no matter who sat on the throne. It was be an agony of decades waiting for a crippling, debilitating illness to make her suffer as it had her mother.

"I'm not questioning your ability to make it possible," Rhiane said as she glanced towards the small black box abandoned nearby. She was not reflecting upon its contents so much as fixating on something other than his face. The princess elect had clung to and fought for her life when she was poisoned, had been terrified and deeply traumatized when a weapon was aimed at her heart, but only because she was not ready yet for death. More had to be done to secure the financial assistance for her family. Luke needed a successful boost to his image, a marriage, and heirs. "I'm asking you not to make that sort of promise," she added more softly, "because I don't want live past my usefulness." Although she tried to hide the pain in her eyes, the damaged soul that willingly embraced her own murder, it was plain enough to see if he looked hard enough.

Surprisingly she had no comment about the resistance's rifles. There was, however, a distinct lack of surprise on her features that was somewhat telling. She had gleamed that the commoners were not alone in their frustrations. When sympathizers and members of the movement had struck up a conversation with her in a bar, or knocked on her door to entreat her to join them, there had been vague allusions to support beyond the lower class. At the time she had not cared if this was fact or fiction. She simply did not have the time, energy, nor conviction to do anything except keep her business intact and food on the table. It did not surprise her that there was spies inside the capitol. The royalty was not as far removed from seeds of discontent as they imagined. Not every noble had a lineage and web of friends, allies, and relatives completely estranged from those who tried without success to scale the class ladder. A maid might be bitter she'd never gain the title of duchess. A bodyguard might be furious his cousins were laid off by a company who made a CEO in title only wealthier by the day. A steward might lament he'd never have the station to gain the favor of the upper echelons.

"I'm not acting like a child," she protested while not accepting the proffered hand. "I think I've proven that, despite any misgivings I have or the obstacles in my path, I continued to meet expectations and perform my duties," Rhiane argued, referencing the events that would have made a weaker-willed individual abandon his side or refuse to be seen in public, much less speak so eloquently. She had confidence she had remained charming. Even when she refused to attend the luncheon she had been reaping positive attention in visiting village shops. "A child would throw a tantrum and refuse to keep doing this publicity stunt- I'm not doing that. Anelle or Luce, it makes no difference, I'll be the charismatic fiancee everyone needs me to be. As an adult I'm saying this is where I draw the line. Don't patronize me by telling me to 'suck it up.' You're all but saying you've no intention to chastise her, or ask her to change in any way, you just want me to what- stand by idly like an idiot? Let her petty little jab be indulged, while I am not allowed to even be angry, and instead have to bend and yield to the very hand that slaps me? Absolutely not. Let her complain to your mother that I became petulant that she was trying to bed you right in front of my eyes."

Stepping to the side she rose to her feet. "How you feel does matter, Luke, it always has. Don't you realize that is what this entire tour is about? The people- your people- are clamoring for any sign of how you feel, how the future leader of their nation feels, if he feels empathy and understands them. What does he love? What hobbies, what colors, what people, what things? Does he get angry or sad like they do? The world cares more about how you feel than it cares about how I feel. They love me only because I am the next best thing when you refuse them admittance," she added a little more solemnly. What was also tragic was that she was not convinced that everyone played by the same rules he did. All around him people shirked responsibility and obligation because of feelings of greed, avarice, fear, arrogance, and used their power to fulfill whims based on anger, lust, or bias.

"It's clear to me that what Anelle wants is you," she raised a brow. "I'm sure you can work out what might make her jealous. No one likes being confronted with a person they disdain reaping their 'reward.' If we make her jealous, or she stops trying to seduce you under my nose, then I give you my word I'll work with her." With a turn she moved towards the door and placed her hand on the handle. Rhiane paused briefly.

"And for the record, I'll always care much more about your feelings than what purpose you serve. Always." Without wanting to appear weak she whisked out the door, embarrassed by her own admission, and how foolish it would seem to someone as lofty and distant as the man who would be king.

The Betrothed

Truthfully, Rhiane didn't know what to make of Luke's promise to not endanger the Black family, nor by his comment that the queen did not need to know about this 'project.' He was being strangely considerate and accommodating. Of course she knew he could be, as she had glimpsed his compassion and wit on more than one occasion, but he was more invested in convincing Sebastian than she had expected. Perhaps one could attribute this to his stubborn determination to win every battle, and thus he was willing to make sacrifices to gain an advantage against the rebellion, but that did not necessitate creating a private encrypted line for her and Sebastian, nor keeping this secret from his mother. The crown prince had struck her as a man who stood alone and apart, creating allies but not friends, who preferred to use threats over bribes. When she had suggested he be careful with Sebastian she didn't think he'd heed her advice and would try to coerce him regardless; that he did not, that he would do so much to ensure good relations, made her wonder.

"A way for me to get out of this alive?" the princess elect repeated bewildered. The very concept left her stunned into silence for a few long moments. She had never contemplated trying to surpass her unspoken expiration date. Another woman might have quietly hoped and dreamed that Luke would fall in love with them and save them from a terrible fate, that romance would persuade the sovereign to spare them, that they would be the first commoner wed into royalty to see old age. Rhiane did not cling to such naive delusions. It was the prospect of being killed, as well as the stipend for her family, that had drawn her to entering the contest. Seeing her mother and brother slowly and painfully die due to their illness had been deeply traumatizing. Standing before their graves she had vowed to not fall prey to chance.

That was the source of one of her many arguments with her father and Gerard. Years together after the funerals had granted them the opportunity to discover Rhiane's morbid fantasies of retaining agency over her fate. At first they had not understood why she wanted to be a candidate for the contests. They had protested that eventually they could turn enough profit from the farm to retire comfortably, or hire workers to replace them when their bodies failed them. Gerard realized it first. By choosing to be a candidate, by entering into an agreement that would culminate in her death, she would guarantee some control over how she departed the world. She would not be able to anticipate exactly the means or the timing, but she'd die for a reason she accepted, by people she allowed. Her fatalistic jokes had always bothered them, but now they knew it was the honesty that hid behind each jest that set them ill at ease, the soft yearning to set the plan in motion that would end it all.

"As much as I would want to bear witness to you not marrying Anelle, you don't have to promise me impossible things. It's better for all them, Sebastian included, to accept my mortality. Your mother would be rid of me, you could find a woman you have a deep emotional connection with, our children would be raised by your standards, and my family would be able to prepare for my death rather than be blindsided," she pointed out. Pragmatically it made sense when she voiced these thoughts aloud. What it failed to take into account was that Luke might want her presence more than a noble lady, that he would prefer her as his co-parent rather than a stand in aristocrat, that he might want for their sons and daughters what he and his sister did not have, or that he might be negatively impacted by losing her. In the absence of his reassurances she could do nothing but assume nothing had changed.

"I'm not saying I'm jealous," Rhiane began, not wanting him to comment on her theory of her required premature demise, "but if I was, it's only because she's a piss poor Image Manger for provoking me. She ought to have been professional and acted in a way that would further her goals. Trying to seduce the very man she wants to convince the nation is madly infatuated with another she is purposefully slighting," she snorted through her nose. "When she shows me she can do her job properly then I will give her my respect, not before. I don't care if she's the mistress of a higher being, I'm not going to hold it all in and be cooperative with that worm," she vented. The problem with the throne was that it assumed it had all the power. It did not. That it was compelled to rely on a publicity stunt in the form of a peasant, one who was more popular than it was, and who had viable alternatives to being their puppet, meant they were on more equal footing then a couple weeks prior.

"Are you also advising that I'm not allowed to try to make her jealous?" she asked abruptly.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Once they had successfully initiated the jump, Solae unlatched the restraints on her chair's harness. "It will take some time to reach the end jump point," she told her passengers so that they were not alarmed by her apparent abandonment of piloting duties. "Let's see what is packed in our crates and get rooms set up for the three of you," she continued as she assumed leadership of the quintet. She knew that her soldier paramour would defer to her judgment and, furthermore, she would not impose on him to sort out living arrangements while he was still injured. He had already done too much. Criestia would be furious if she saw how he had physically taxed himself dragging their cargo onto the ship with the Syshin.

"Where are we going, mistress?" Dasin asked. The duchess was quickly learning it would take her alien companions longer than it took Rosaria to grow accustomed to referring to her by her first name. This was a period of drastic changes to the Syshin's lives. If the most difficulty they faced was an insistence of adhering to titles, then she would consider this social experiment a success.

"We're headed towards Kaldorei space," Solae remarked casually as she stood and walked back towards the hold where their crates had been stored. "Have you ever heard of the Kaldorei?" she inquired once she saw that Dasin and Yarue were following her. Rosaria did so more reluctantly; this was her first time traveling among the stars and she was briefly distracted by the fantastic view they had during quantum travel.

"We have not," Yarue affirmed.

Solae had suspected as much. The history of humans and Kaldorei was but a footnote that was deemed not to be of significant importance to teach to anyone beyond the nobility and military. Peasants were generally unaware of the race- the proven superiority of the Jeweled Armada was too humiliating for the empire to recount to the general populace, and it was not necessary to warn citizens that would never encounter their borders, much less the enigmatic creatures themselves. The Syshin that were enslaved were poorly educated on a whole. What was passed to them was largely from their fellow kin, such as cultural customs, rather than academic knowledge. Furthermore, before they had meant humanity, the Syshin had not been technologically advanced enough to venture beyond their planet.

"They are not human," she told them as she leaned over a crate. With Yarue's help they unsealed the lids of both crates and set them to side. "We don't know too much about them except that they are stronger than humans," she said, then swapped to Syshin to elaborate since she didn't know a way to convey what she meant in the common tongue. "When we met them hundreds of years ago they destroyed the humans that attacked their people, and the nearby human worlds in retaliation." This shocked both Syshin men whose eyes went wide at the revelation in the universal expression of surprise. "A treatise was signed so we are no longer at work, but they do not let humans inside their territory."

"Then why are we going there, mistress?" Dasin asked skeptically.

"Because I believe they will give us a place to rest and recover," the diplomat began slowly, "and because I believe it is our responsibility to right as many wrongs of our predecessors as is possible. Humans were- and are- arrogant, entitled, and cruel. That is what we showed the Kaldorei and that is what we showed the Syshin. But humans can also be compassionate, humble, and kind, and that is what I want to be our legacy. I want to prove that the Syshin deserve a greater place in the galaxy, and to prove to the Kaldorei we have grown into better people than our ancestors."

This answer stupefied both Dasin and Yarue, who were not quite sure how process the bold proclamation. Rosaria just stared at her benefactor. None of them knew how to handle the linguist's proclaimed benevolence. She had neither sad nor done anything to betray her ambitions, but they had grown accustomed to capricious malevolence as a result of being imprisoned by Thorne and subjected to her employees and/or clientele, and Solae was such a stark departure it was a challenge to accept they belonged to the same species. For her part, the duchess understood their suspicion. She was determined to prove herself. Grandiose goals required patience.

"I see Ten had packed everything we asked for and then some," she laughed aloud as she dug through the cargo. There was clothing for herself and Rene, including the garments they had worn during their visit with him and a few new pieces he had selected, including a salacious piece of lingerie she kept hidden from the view of the others. There was attire for Rosaria and the Syshin as well, but the criminal mastermind had clear favoritism. In addition there was a wide array of food stuffs for their journey, medical supplies, weaponry, armor, linens, and everyday sundries such as soap, high quality brushes, and vitamin supplements.

"Rosaria, would you mind helping Rene find something suitable for us to eat? Dasin, Yarue, will you help me set up some beds for tonight?" Solae hauled out the linens and walked off before anyone could protest their assigned tasks.

With the help of her larger and stronger bodyguards, the former marquise changed the sheets on a bunk in the empty crew cabin for Rosaria's use, but she was determined to not force the girl and Syshin to share quarters. The slavers that had operated the Bonaventure before it was "liberated" had a small enough crew that they had converted the second crew cabin into a storage space. The trio cleaned out this improvised storage room, set two mattresses onto the floor at Dasin and Yarue's insistence that was their preference, and similarly dressed them in linens. Solae had been worried their feet would hang off the end, but this was lavish accommodations compared to what they had prior: soft fabric sheets, pillows, and a private chamber for their exclusive use.

The Betrothed

If the crown prince expected his future bride to flinch at the mention of her established premature demise, an event that would take place after she had lived out her purpose of producing heirs, he would find she did no such thing. Rhiane was only disappointed he could speak of it so casually and without detachment. While she did not expect him to break with tradition, she did hope he would have an emotional response to the prospect of a life absent her presence, if only to affirm she was not a walking womb to him as she was the queen. She wanted to matter. Violet Black had been deceased for years but had not been forgotten. Her father maintained that the beautiful matriarch of the family had been his one true love, and there was not a day that went by that either of her surviving children did not miss her. That was the best that anyone could wish for, the former farmer believed, to be loved both in life and death.

"How can you possibly tell me she's not the sort of person you'd trust to raise our future children and then ask me to give her a chance?" Rhiane guffawed with an expression that made it clear she wasn't willing to reconsider her judgment of Anelle. "I thought Luce was fine but, let's not kid ourselves, there is no reason for me to trust them nor be their friends. Both of those would require me to believe them capable of thinking of me for a moment- my feelings, my wants, my needs, my health- but they would never. Anyone who is appointed into such a position position is someone your mother deems qualified to force me into the mold without unflinchingly."

"Besides," she continued as she crossed her arms with a grumpy frown, "you know very well she is a witch. Waltzing into here and trying to entice you with her womanly wiles while I'm only a few feet away. I'm surprised she didn't pee on you to mark her territory," the princess elect rambled with her overflowing rampant jealousy. "Unless you're suggesting being nice to her to wage psychological warfare, she'll be lucky if I even listen to her, though I suspect she won't let that dissuade her from batting her eyelashes and proposing more dates. I wonder if she melts in the rain," she seethed, quoting an old myth from a story in which water was used to kill a wicked spellcaster who had plagued an innocent maiden.

Rhiane fell silent temporarily as she contemplated the various ways she could exact revenge. Most of them were not plausible. Much as she wanted to toss the aristocrat under a moving vehicle, or arrange for her to ingest a diarrhetic, such petty plots would not give her the satisfaction she desired. Even worse, they could backfire on her spectacularly. Exposing the image manager would be the most damaging action she could take and also the most drastic. Anelle could deny charges that she lusted after her ex-lover, but it could not be understated how much more the public trusted the commoner who had won them over with her charms, warmth, and humility, and it was unlikely that an allegation uttered by the peasant-turned-royal would go ignored.

"Sebastian?" She was jerked back into the reality of the present when Luke began to explain his motivations in visiting. Each word that dripped off his lips made it more clear that the crown prince was wading into waters without knowing the depth of the see he was entering. The complete lack of surprise on her visage was evidence that she knew slightly more about the rebellion than she had disclosed. There were members that had approached her back when she was a nobody, before the contest had been announced, when the Black family farm was crawling out of financial ruin. None of them were the violent war-mongers that had nearly caused her death. The palace painted a picture of citizens involved with the revolution as being sinister, malevolent, and misguided, but the truth was that they were people who were frustrated by their circumstances and felt powerless to exact change without joining a political movement.

"Have you thought about how you might persuade him?" Rhiane inquired softly. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate you're not wanting to arrest him, but I'd caution you against getting your hopes up too high. If he knew the people responsible for threatening my life he would have not hesitated to give their names. That you think he withheld information from you means he might be reluctant to disclose anything that might put him, my brother, or father in danger, or he might doubt what you'd do when you share secrets. Luke, you have to understand that life on the farm is... difficult. We're so far from the palace, and every day is such a struggle, that people in my hometown don't have a connection with you or your sister, who I like the most out of everyone I've met." She doubted this would get through to him. He was a man who was very convinced that he was perfectly playing the role of a stern father- giving everyone the opportunity to better themselves, while not enabling laziness, and their respective success or failure could be attributed to their work ethic. If the country operated as well in practice as it did in theory there would be no resistance to quash.

"If you want my advice, which you probably don't, but I compulsively give it anyway, talk to him as one man to another. Don't invoke your title as prince. Voice your concerns and your worries, and appeal to his compassion. He's a stubborn mule like Gerard, and his past trauma will make him shut down if you're too aggressive, but he's full of principles and empathy. Seb's heart guides him," she smiled with a touch of admiration in her tone. It was fortunate for Luke that Sebastian was a gay man or else he might have been serious competition for the sultry brunette's affections. She flopped over and sprawled on the sofa to stare at the ceiling. Something about being around Sebastian was like being nestled in a warm blanket. His unrestrained acceptance, patience, and comforting aura had been able to soothe her family when they were at their worst. Perhaps that was what she needed most- an uncomplicated supporter.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Solae pressed the release on her helmet, waited for the safety locks to disengage, and eagerly pulled it off to tuck under her arm. Her long hair was tangled and half-plastered to her head, not on account of the temperature, as the suit had maintained a comfortable climate per manufacturing requirements, but because of how incredibly anxious she had been during Rene's plan. She did not think she'd ever be as calm and collected as her paramour in evading soldiers. Their very presence made her incredibly uneasy because it drew to her attention her own mortality. It was true she could operate a firearm with reliable efficiency, but her adversaries were highly trained individuals with much less hesitation when it came to killing, and that could be the difference between life and death.

"Thank you, Mia. Mia, I'd like you to meet our guests. The young lady with us is Rosaria and the two gentleman with us are Dasin and Yarue. I trust when we transferred you to the Bonaventure your language files remained intact?" she inquired as she set down her helmet and began to unzip the airsuit. The dress underneath was much less modest but it gave her a better range of movement. Once she had stepped out of the space garment she pulled her hem down from where it had been hiked above her waist. The duchess suspected that her unusually sensual attire was what gave the AI such a significant pause.

"Yes, of course Lady Solae," she purred. "It is a pleasure you meet you, Rosaria, Dasin, and Yarue. Please do not hesitate to let me know if I can be of any assistance," she greeted breathlessly as if their arrival had her excited in all the most scandalous ways. It was hard to tell which of the trio was more confused or disconcerted by Mia's tone. Rosaria's eyebrows were knitted together in an attempt to determine if a program could really exhibit such emotion, while Dasin and Yarue looked around for the speakers and discreetly fidgeted at the implied illicit affection. They were used to being exploited, not served, and certainly not by anyone who spoke as if they were objects of intense desire.

"We need to head to a jump point before Bhast scrambles her men for a response," Solae announced, more a vocalization of her thoughts to Rene than anything else. "I've no doubt she has the resources to hire a ship to give chase. I'll plot a course and get us off Zatis," she informed her lover, "if you can help the others prepare for take off. We're not going gentle and slow this time; I'll burn the thrusters as hot as is pragmatically possible to break us free of the planet's gravitational pull. It will be exponentially easier to avoid Tan's minions once we're back among the stars."

"You're the pilot?" Rosaria asked with unrestrained surprise. It was not a skill that a noble would ordinarily possess, much less a marquise or a duchess.

"I am," she admitted. "There were only two of us so one us needed to adapt and accept the responsibility." As she spoke she began to make her way to the cockpit. This was a discussion that she was willing to have, as an explanation might prove helpful in gaining their trust in her abilities, but they did have the luxury of time. She shed her shoes as she strode forward and twisted her hair at the nape of her neck to keep it from drifting in her peripheral vision.

"Mia, please ignite all thrusters at 10% until we are clear of the dome. We aren't going to divert all our power to propulsion until we are certain that we won't damage the biosphere. Can you also spin us 180 degrees to give me a better visual?" she requested as she slid into the chair attached to the command console. "Monitor our guests and let me know when they are all safely situated. We don't want anyone getting injured when we break through the stratosphere, do we?"

"Understood, Lady Solae. May I say it is lovely to have you back," the synthetic being told her with overflowing adulation.

For a moment the duchess forgot she was conversing with a computer instead of a family member or a consort. It was nevertheless flattering. She blushed despite her typical composure and cleared her throat to regain it. With a wave of her hand she had pulled up a variety of stellar charts as well as a control panel for the launch functions needed to finalize their departure. Kaldorei territory was a large black splotch on the edges of systems. If she had more time she might appreciate the gravity of having such a detailed, precise map of the heavens, but a vast void where an alien race had successfully prevented them from evening knowing the number of worlds they had colonized.

"We are clear of the bio-dome, Lady Solae. Should I prepare a trajectory for our destination?" Mia posed, though she hadn't been told where that was.

"Run some calculations and determine the route that will get us to a Kaldorei border with the least amount of jumps," Solae said as she rubbed her temple. She wished she could be more specific but she was flying blind so to speak- because so few penetrated beyond their boundaries it was impossible to gauge where their outposts were, their capital, their embassies, anything that would be beneficial. In the absence of any information all she could do was try to make the journey as expedient as possible. The Kaldorei had the technology to obliterate them regardless of the angle of their approach; one could assume they could also provide aid regardless of where they entered as well.

"Per the treatise mutually agreed upon by the Stellar Empire and the Kaldorei people, we are not permitted..." Mia tried to warn in a strangely serious tone.

"I know, Mia, but they are our best hope. I intend them to great them as a peaceful diplomat representing the interests of the empress. Run the calculations and let me worry about the rest," the duchess commanded as she clicked on her seat restraints and began the lift off sequence. It was much more challenging to propel them into space from a layer of a world's atmosphere, but Zatis's bio-domes afforded the people protection from any damage caused by exhaust, chemical discharge, and thermal radiation, providing a unique opportunity to disregard standard regulation without fear of casualties.

"I am intercepting transmissions that indicate they are preparing another vessel to target the Bonaventure," Mia advised with her signature sultry tone.

"We can't wait any longer. It's time to go, Mia," she announced before she took hold of the manual navigation grip with her right hand. With a flourish she increased the propulsion on all their thrusters, forcing the ship to lift vertically, though gravity in the living quarters mitigated the physical sensation for its passengers. It vibrated as it blasted through the sky, cutting through the air like a hot knife, and piercing the invisible shielding that the gasses of Zatis provided its residents. There was a more distinctive jerk as the Bonvanenture broke free of the pull of the planet... but it was miles more smooth of a ride than when they had hastily ran from New Concordia.

"This is planet number three," Solae mused aloud as she reduced the power slightly to conserve fuel. Gliding through space required less effort than either launching or landing. Ten had been generous in making certain they had the resources to take them as far as they needed to go and then some, but she was loathe to squander their boon unless necessary. "In the last few weeks this is the third planet that were were effectively chased off of. It feels as if it may never end, though logically I know it must."

"You were able to contact the empress on Zatis," Mia cooed encouragingly to her mistress.

"I know," the noblewoman conceded, "but even the most exuberant adventurer sometimes yearns for a place they can grow roots. Are you familiar with that expression? Perhaps the Kaldorei can give us the enlightenment we so desperately need. I'd settle for a safe haven that can't be assaulted by coup insurgents," she added thoughtfully as she leaned back against the headrest and stared out at the flickering distant diamonds that every captain used to determine their location, both the past masters of the sea, and the present sailors of the cosmos.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Let's not stand on etiquette, Ten. In the last few days I think we've proven ourselves as individuals that toss aside the rules when it suits us and our personal morals," she said with a wide smile. Solae stepped forward and, without allowing the criminal broker a chance to react, put her arms around him in a tight hug. He was surprised by the embrace but did not push her away. Very few people in his life touched him without his express permission and not even the nubile young men that he paid for their company would have been so bold. A rare smile alighted on his features briefly as he reluctantly returned the gesture. It would have been rude not to- but a casual bystander could discern in that moment that they were honestly friends.

Rosaria, Yarue, and Dasin watched with varying levels of confusion, curiosity, and shock. All three were now aware that the duchess was so far above Ten's station, not just because of the legitimacy of her profession, but also due to the rigid social structure of the empire, that their platonic relationship would be considered inappropriate. What was more baffling to the trio was the affection. The trio was acquainted with the concept of mates. What was more foreign to them were the very virtues that set Solae apart: her compassion, her kindness, her unconditional love in realms beyond the romantic, her gentler sentiments. Their brutal lives had created an innocent towards softer feelings. Not since their mothers- whom Rosaria did not remember as she was abducted as a babe- had they seen someone so warm and caring without restraint.

"Yes, well," Ten cleared his throat to keep his composure, "thank you, duchess."

"Write me discreetly," she ordered as she withdrew enough to flash him a smile, "but I must insist you call me by my first name when you do or else I'll be cross with you. Having a few people not address me by my title will keep me humble," the diplomat teased playfully.

"Oh yes," Ten remarked dryly, "I do worry about your humility." His sarcasm was evident that even Yarue and Dasin, who struggled with grasping a human's sense of humor through the language barrier, could appreciate he was not being serious. The bigger concern in the room was whether or not Solae would respect her limitations physically. The number of times she had willingly thrust herself into dangerous scenarios, and come perilously close to suffering severe consequences, suggested that she and Rene shared a selfless recklessness.

"Take care of yourself," Criestia called to the former marquise. "And if you can't seem to take care of yourself, at least take care of each other."

"I'll try to heed doctor's orders," Solae confirmed with feigned solemnity as she also thrust a hug upon the unsuspecting physician. Criestia was just as surprised as Ten had been, but more quickly reciprocated, patting her on the back before releasing her. A tear sprung at the edge of one eye. She wanted to believe in the capacity of the virtuous pair but, regardless of the newly acquired bodyguards, she feared that this was the last time they would meet. Luck only lasted so long. If both of them survived this rebellion and subsequent war it would be nothing short of a miracle.

"Kiss for luck?" she asked Rene before standing on her toes to peck him on the lips. She gave it a few prolonged seconds before she winked and whispered in his ear, "I'll need help getting out of this dress later if you're available and fit enough for the task." The garment in question had been hiked up to her hips in order to get the suit on and fitted over top. As she had theorized with Criestia it would have taken much more effort to peel it off of her than try to cover. Solae made a motion to Dasin and Yarue to follow her and allow her paramour the opportunity to say his farewells with a little privacy.

They climbed onto the middle section of the sled that lay empty for their use. Either Dasin or Yarue- it was impossible to tell them apart with their helmets on- helped the linguist make the large step up while the other simply plucked Rosaria off the ground with the greatest of ease and handed her to the duchess. This had bothered the youth but she knew better to say anything aloud. Instead of complaining she helped Solae to tie back her hair, clip, and seal the protective headgear into place.

"I have a duty to you too, Yarue, Dasin," she said in Syshi as she activated the communicator inside the suit. "You may have accepted a bodyguard position, but I will be as diligent as I can to keep you from ever having to shield me from danger. That is what a true lady does," the golden-haired woman elaborated as there was no proper translation for the word 'duchess' in their language. "Your leaders rely on their warriors only when necessary, but they do all they can to prevent battle, to prevent harm, and loss, as the way of twins tells us that both sides fill a purpose. The ship we have is stolen, and I apologize if your recognize the purpose it served before we reclaimed it from slavers, but please trust I will not fail you. I did not come this far to let someone as irredeemable as Thorne win over me."

"You stole the ship?" Yarue or Dasin- she needed a visual cue to discern the correct identity- questioned skeptically.

"We did, from slavers and murderers, who had committed many crimes against the Syshin. In both our cultures it is a sin and I will accept your judgment, but please allow it to ferry you away from this planet, and to somewhere safe," she replied, still speaking in Syshi.

"It is not our place to judge you, mistress," one of them softly said in a voice quiet with anguish. "We have all done things to survive."

The Betrothed

"You could have rejected her more firmly," she pointed out when he laughed, pinched her cheek, and called her jealous. What she said was factually true. His reception of Anelle had been cold but not as brutal as the former farmer would have liked- it had clearly been ambiguous enough that the other woman clung to the hope of reigniting the relationship she held prior. Nothing short of devastating the Image Manner with an explicit denial of any potential romance would have placated the princess elect completely. Hearing the redhead be told Luke would discuss their history 'some other time' had been frustrating. That he did not utter the word 'No' when she suggested a bottle of wine had made Rhiane absolutely furious. The fiance she knew could be callous when he elected to be; he did not withhold his verbal punches when they were alone. The more she dwelt upon it the more convinced she was that the highborn lady had been the subject of more special treatment than she, the very woman chosen to bear his children, the commoner who was responsible for elevating his reputation.

If the kiss did not melt away her anger, his acquiescence to her request did. She still believed he was ill prepared for what a sit down with her father and brother would be like. The courts were a dangerous place where being stabbed in the proverbial back was more commonplace than sincerity, but there were harsh truths that Luke was perhaps not ready to face head on, and she would not be able to reign in her family until they had delivered at least a few initial blows. It had not escaped her attention how he avoided discussing certain topics. Luke did not appear to want to carry on a conversation about the untimely death that awaited her, his father, peasant's rights, or the more acute impact the plague had on the peasantry than the nobility, but these were subjects they'd inevitability broach. They'd also demand to know the feelings he had danced around admitting or denying existed. Disaster awaited them.

But Rhiane found it increasingly harder to hold fast to her ire when he was affectionate. The simple gesture had caused a palpable shift in her demeanor. Luke could still ply her compliance with sweets, as she was just as easily bribed as before, but little acts of kindness or fondness were even more effective. The brunette did not have the typical defenses of women her age: she was adept at navigating business matters or avoiding the manipulations of the aristocracy, but when emotions tangled with intimacy she was helpless, and genuine actions proved to more compelling than words. Little did her prince know that with additional investment he could persuade her to greater concessions and compromises than he had yet managed. She would crumble if he approached her with honest romantic overtures.

"Why are you suddenly interested in my life before the castle?" she asked suspiciously. "You hated that farm tour. We'll both be miserable visiting my home town," she added with a sigh as she moved back towards the sofa with a resigned expression. Much as she would love to make the plane turn around, she realized that they were too close to cancel, and the arrangements could not be voided on a whim. "My father and brother will be hostile, my home will not meet any of your standards, agriculture on a smaller scale is not something you enjoy, and I can't imagine you'll want to visit my favorite bar or meet my neighbors. This flies in the face of what your mother wants, doesn't it? To abandon my background and assimilate myself into the castle? To defer to what you prefer?"

She didn't need his acknowledgment to know that it did. It made Rhiane uncomfortable to be exposing these vulnerable bits about herself even for him. They had arguments aplenty spurred on by the unspoken truth that she did not fit the mold cast by her predecessors, how she did not have the qualities of his prior lovers, how her childhood in poverty was a blemish upon her person in his eyes. "If this is really what you want," she conceded, "as long as you know that given the choice between being trapped in that SUV on the side of the mountain or going home, I'm not sure I'd pick the latter. Just keep that wretched woman away from me." None of his platitudes would warm her to the interloper's appearance. "And promise me when I'm gone you won't marry her. Practically draping herself all over you while pretending she gives a damn about portraying us as an adoring couple. I hope she trips and falls and impales herself on her stupid shoes," she grumbled discontentedly.

He wasn't wrong when he called her jealous. Rhiane remained perturbed, not in the least because she knew that she would be dead within a decade, give or take a few years, when her best reproductive years were behind her and her 'services' had been concluded. Any sons or daughters she bore would be raised by another woman. Luke's bed would be occupied by someone other than herself. There were parts of the future over which she had no control, but an assurance that the second bride would not be someone she loathed, who taunted her with coy games, and made what time she had left slightly more miserable, was the best she could ask for with her circumstances.