Syrenrei

The Betrothed

Approximately ten minutes after Luke entered the SUV, Rhiane finally joined him. It was not that he was early, but rather that she was late, something that greatly aggravated Anelle as she was ultimately responsible for making certain they adhered to their schedule. If they were to deviate too far, or be offensively tardy, then no amount of shifting the blame onto the commoner would save her from the wrath of the queen. Admittedly the princess elect was aware that as a peasant she was a convenient scapegoat, but that also made it hard for her to be truly held culpable, as that would be admitting that she was anything more than the dirt beneath the shoes of the aristocracy. Regardless, this was not the reason for the delay, and so the issue was not raised to the royal nor any member of their shared entourage, even it was something that the former farmer wryly noticed mental.

There were two reasons given to Luke and, try as she might, Anelle could not hasten the process. Tobias stoically guarded the tent, barring her entrance, which amused Lia and Octavia when no one else was looking. She had tried to approach a few times, agitated, insisting that they depart immediately, but the redhead could not affect the crown prince's cousin. He was resolute and determined. Realizing that she was having no success (except possible embarrassment if she continued) and that it was easier to just wait the ten minutes predicted, she had extremely reluctantly resigned herself, though to anyone that asked she had 'approved' the delay herself as it was 'practically necessary.' The staff silently accepted her explanation though they did not believe it. Word had traveled quickly that Rhiane had called her 'Satan' to her face and been openly defiant. While they could not approve of the language or a laborer being rude to a lady, they could be aghast while finding it humorous, and it lead credence to a theory that Anelle was not as in control as she pretended to be. One simple utterance had shifted the perception of power.

The first reason for the delay was attire. Rhiane was adamant about wearing her mourning dress, which was simple and all black, but after a quick exchange with their fashion consultant, a role she found utterly absurd, she conceded it would be inappropriate for touring the rest of the town. A compromise was struck that the garment would be tailored during the morning so it would be a bitter fit later in the day when they visited the cemetery. Normally such low-quality clothing would be tossed out, but the sentimentality associated with the piece could play into the favor of the image they were trying to project, and it would better sell the story of an empathetic couple with open hearts to each other and their citizens. She was changed into simple slacks with an very snug designer knit sweater that hugged every curve, emphasizing her figure. The V-shaped neckline would have been modest on another woman, but Rhiane's proportions made it more sultry, toeing the line between flattering and vulgarity.

The second reason for the delay was Sebastian's bouquets. He produced two, one for the late Violet Black, and one for the late Edwin Black. For the late matriarch of the family were a mixture of blue and amethyst blooms that had been cultivated in the garden and tied together with a bow. Rhiane had them wrapped with decorative paper to give them a less humble appearance, though the freshly cut flowers were so fragrant, so delicate, and picked so recently, that they needed very little to elevate them beyond their natural beauty. For the late middle brother were a mixture of white and yellow blossoms, representing his purity and positivity, a trait everyone that met him could recall long after his passing. This second bouquet was tied with cord and similarly wrapped in decorative paper. There was no doubt they were not professionally arranged, but the stubborn brunette was resolute that it was better than asking a florist. Once again, the servants were forced to yield to the sentimental narrative, even if they were doing so because of cool calculations, and she was acting out of genuine emotion.

A piece of pastry dangled out of Rhiane's mouth as she made her way towards the waiting vehicle, her hair just having been pinned so that the top layer was pulled back into a bun at the crown of her head. Bangs had been swept to the side and curled and the rest of her chocolate tresses swung freely, wild and luxurious under the care of her cosmetologists. Tobias took long strides to open the door for her before she arrived at it, her hands full as she carried her bouquets, one held tightly in each.

"Do you want me to hold them for you?" he offered for the third time.

"No no, not, after we arrive at the first stop," she promised as she climbed into the vehicle, having a little difficulty with the step up as she was once again in high heels. One her small pleasures at the end of a grueling string of events was taking off her shoes and wiggling her toes. Small callouses had formed on certain parts of her feet as she grew more accustomed to the stilettos that had become part of her standard wardrobe. It was still odd to her, not just because she hadn't worn anything like them when working the fields, but also because a woman of above normal height typically wore flats to not 'threaten' their romantic partner. Luke was fortunately tall enough this was not a concern.

"I guess since I called Anelle Satan it's too late to ask to pick up some sweets at the bakery," she grumbled a little to herself jokingly as she situated herself, laying the flowers in her lap. A sweet scent wafted from them as she pulled on her seat belt.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"It's not every day a woman has the opportunity to terrify a would-be suitor by explaining the complications and difficulties of being her significant other," Solae jested, though it was a more serious criticism of herself than she was willing to discuss during the ball. A few times Rene had expression concern over what she may have to endure as his fiancee and, hopefully, future wife. While she did concede that it would not be easy to overcome the false murder charge, when nearly everyone considered him guilty, being the spouse of a duchess would have its unique tribulations. Even after marriage he would be her 'lesser' as she was the one gifted the title by the empress, she would wield great power outside their relationship, and would invite more attention than either of them was truly accustomed to one they returned to the courts. As someone so high-ranking, and of an elite few, there would be those that sought her attention and favor, to solve their problems, to be their voice to the empress. As the daughter of the marquise she had not been under so much pressure. Now that she was elevated, she worried both for herself and anyone who might be cause in the proverbial crossfire by proximity.

From across the room she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Rosaria finally relent and allow a young Kalderi to escort her onto the dance floor. She seemed less than thrilled but had likely deduced that she couldn't decline every offer; practically speaking, it was easier to accept one that she minimally preferred, and then use him as an excuse as to why she could not entertain the rest. For all her faults, such as being somewhat petulant and selfish, she was a very perceptive young woman. The diplomat sincerely hoped they had rescued her before she had become so corrupted that she had no hope of leading a fulfilling life, whatever it was. They had floated the idea of Rosaria as her successor, but Solae was not certain that it would serve the youth, as something about her disposition told the linguist she may not particularly enjoy the limelight once it was shone upon her.

Leaning forward, she lowered her voice to a hush, more to convey a sense of playful secrecy than an effort for privacy. "Truthfully, my plan was just to ask you to dance before we got ambushed by anyone. I figured it would be so culturally awkward that no one would know what to do. What would they do, challenge me... for me? Since we're human we could have probably gotten away with it were we not thwarted by Totlya." It was a clever plan. Kalderi traditions were steeped in traditional roles, most customs not defined by sex, but the 'mating ritual' infused with dancing did adhere to certain norms. All around them it was the men that asked the women (or what they assumed to be) for their hand. Foreigners naturally had more leniency in adhering to expectations. Solae would have had just enough latitude to snag Rene for a few waltzes had she not been foiled by her own propensity for idle banter.

"What do you think of what he said?" she pressed, eyebrows knitted together in thought. "It seems strange to me that a merchant would abduct a Kalderi. If he was a slave trader he wouldn't have only taken one," she whispered slowly, "and it was a huge risk to take. Either he knew that Kalderi would be reluctant to pursue him, which suggests he knows a great deal about them, or he was taking a gamble in hoping they didn't chase him down. Most of the empire is under the impression they have superior technology and weapons, and they have historically used both to avenge wrongs. It's all... odd. Not only that, even on the outer fringes of settled worlds, this would be a hard thing to keep quiet. A captive Kalderi would be too hot of gossip not to spread far and wide. Everyone loves a good scandal," the aristocrat wryly noted. Generally bad news related to crimes or morally questionable acts traveled with lightning speed.

Dasin and Yarue had meanwhile retreated back towards the exterior of the room, trying to avoid the crowd to the best of their ability, skeptical about the underwater 'building.' Despite all their reservations, they were completely fascinated by the fish that swam by peacefully, drawn to the lights created by the colorful setting. A few straggler Kalderi doggedly approached, coaxing them into conversation, but they were almost comically stiff. Between the broken common language both races spoke, as well as the two Syshin's lack of socialization for many years, Solae almost felt guilty for not saving them. Conversation wouldn't do them any harm, but she was empathetic to a fault, and hated to see them struggle, however necessary the process might be.

The Betrothed

Waiting until Anelle had finally left, Rhiane sighed and looked towards her guard with an unreadable expression. "Would you do me a favor and ask Tobias to step inside, then ask Sebastian to come see me? There's something I'd like to discuss with them both," she said as calmly and kindly as if she had not been in a showdown of sorts. The staff had almost taken for granted that she would always have a pleasant disposition since it had not faltered in the weeks she had been princess elect. Now the illusion had been shattered and while they did not fear her, they had become to appreciate she was an unexpectedly complex individual, someone they may have underestimated on account of her low birth.

"Certainly," the guard said with a slight bow as she turned and departed to find the two men in question. Both beauticians immediately got back to work, but the tension in the tent was palpable, and the former farmer felt guilty forcing them into being an audience for her private dispute. While it was true they were not her friends, and they had probably been witness to worse conflicts within the castle over the course of their employment, she had personally contributed to their discomfort. Little could be done about the actions of others, but she was determined not to follow down a path of treating servants as second class citizens, regardless of whether or not they themselves looked down upon her.

"Don't worry, I only intend to call one person Satan today," she joked lightly, and she caught a smile from the make-up artist. The other woman gently dabbed at her face with a sponge, evening out the peasant's complexion, yet retaining the bronzed tone that she had become famous for. "I'll take full responsibility for what I said. If either of you is asked directly to provide a report of what happened, I will not hold a grudge if you divulge everything, although I hope you won't tell them one of the guards laughed. There's no sense in dragging anyone else into the trouble I'm sure I've just landed myself in," she told them as they worked. The cosmetologists glanced at each other but said nothing. She didn't expect them to respond. The longer she was surrounded by the nobility, the more certain she was that she was probably the first person to show genuine compassion to anyone that found themselves on the lower steps of the aristocratic hierarchy.

"You asked to see me?" Tobias inquired as he pushed aside one of the pristine tent flapped and stepped inside.

"Yes. Would you do me a favor and guard the tent's entrance? You don't need to do anything except prevent Anelle from interrupting us," she said, her eyes meeting us, an unspoken understanding exchanged between the contact. Lia and Octavia would balk at the order, loyal to the crown above all else, and defenders of rigid standards that made Anelle her superior. The cousin of the crown prince, however, was faithful to her interests, and she was certain that she caught subtle cues in his body language and countenance that belied he actively disliked the image manager under his aura of stoicism.

Nodding slowly he stepped around Sebastian as he exited, the latter of which was walking in cautiously. The bodyguards outside Rhiane's tent looked on in obvious confusion as Tobias took up a post directly in front of the entrance, planted so firmly that not even Nolan or Luke could have tried to brush past without his permission or inciting an altercation. Her fiance wasn't forbidden, despite their argument earlier that morning, but she would cross that figurative bridge if his highness deemed her worthy of a visit. Until then, she could rest secure in the knowledge that would have a sanctuary impregnable to the redhead for a little longer.

"Are you all right?" Sebastian asked, knitting his brows together in concern.

"I just called our image manager Satan to her face and ordered her out of my tent," she admitted with a shrug and a ghost of a grin upon her lips. "The schedule is so tight today I can't get away from my chair. Will you go cut some flowers in the garden for me?" Rhiane requested more softly. "I want to take a bouquet from the house when I..." the brunette drifted off, swallowing hard, unable to finish her sentence. Gerald would butcher her plants with the best of intentions and her father, Hubert, wouldn't be able to bring himself to help if he knew what she intended to do with them once he delivered them to her. Years after her mother's death, it was a taboo subject for more than a casual mention. At night she could occasionally hear him weep quietly into his pillow about the vacant spot on his bed that used to occupied by the person whom he loved most in the world.

"It's a wonderful idea," Sebastian reassured before his silence was misinterpreted as disapproval.

"There's something else I'd like you to do. Could you make a call for me? I still need to finish getting ready for my day around town- you can even make the calls after we've packed up and are on our way to the first destination in town," she flashed a smile that her brother-in-law inherently recognized as scheme. Internally he groaned. If she was plotting something related to this tour, it would likely 'stir the pot' so to speak.

"What sort of phone calls?" he slowly asked with his brows creased with worry.

"Here, hand me your device," Rhiane beamed, beckoning him over until he obliged. While he observed she keyed in a phone number and a name, one that would mean absolutely nothing to the two ladies in the tent if they were to glimpse it, but that he knew immediately. He didn't even need to ask what he was supposed to say or do once he reached the person on the other end of the number. It was that of one of their neighbors down the road, whose second son had become a teacher at the school, the very one that was included in the day's tour. Perhaps this would have innocuous enough under ordinary circumstances, but the second son had a fondness for the only daughter of the Black family, and had been one of her flings. Without a doubt he was being asked to make certain their guide at the school that afternoon was the man in question.

"Are you sure about this?" Sebastian sighed, not at all pleased at being drug further into a lover's quarrel he was trying to resolve, not be an accomplice to growing larger.

"Absolutely. Why wouldn't I be?" she replied. He couldn't point out that it would make Luke jealous because that had to be the point. Feeling frustrated and unappreciated, she was trying to prove to herself and her fiance that she was not without value. Tobias might have made the royal possessive, but this was lobbing another grenade onto the pile, since Rhiane had a dalliance with the educator, and he was not just a 'threat' in which she had shown interest. It did not matter that before the heir to the throne Rhiane had no desire for romance in her life whatsoever; Giorgio represented the fact that she was not an object of which he had taken ownership, that they had no honest vows of commitment, and that an interloper could be found if she put forth a minimal amount of effort. Sebastian could decline, but if he did she would find another way to have her way, and it might be exponentially less subtle.

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?" he asked rhetorically before audibly exhaling with resignation. "I'll make two bouquets, but I can't promise they'll be as good as what the florist could arrange."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I understand," Solae said with an unfaltering smile. It was for the best that she was the first aristocrat to venture into Kalderi territory and receive a formal audience. Another noblewoman, even if she was a diplomat, would have been much more slighted by the challenge, as it would have been easy to be insulted by the gesture. Though the Syshin had been the ones to be overtly disgusted by the way a claim was made upon a female as if she had no agency, a possession or accessory to be won with combat alone, many humans would as well. Personally appointed to one of the highest positions within her society, individually recognized and rewarded for her skill and loyalty by the empress herself, she would have had no shortage of suitors at the court eager to be her accessory rather than presuming the other way around. The duchess did not speak of it, but she knew that Rene recognized the same thing, that another couple would have slain this youth where he stood without a second thought.

"There are many differences between our people, but I would like to believe when it comes to matters of the heart, we may not be so dissimilar. I would be very upset if someone took Rene from me, and he would be upset if I was taken from him," she added softly, somewhat amused at the notion that Rene could be stolen from her. She was not an inherently jealous woman, and trusted her fiance with her life, but she would have been absolutely enraged if another made a serious pass at her soldier, much less tried to spirit him away to an unknown destination. Few things truly incited her ire, and they were almost exclusively moral and ethical crimes, but her beloved was the exception to the rule.

"Sir Lithyll, Sir Andalyll, and Sir Totlya, would it be acceptable if we discussed this matter tomorrow?" Solae proposed. "I sincerely want to help, but I want to have my maps, my computer's AI, and no distractions so I can give myself wholly to your story of how you've been wronged. If your mate was taken from you, Totlya, myself and my companions will follow whatever trail they left, and help bring you a resolution." What went unspoken was that she thought a night's rest and different atmosphere might make the younger Kalderi's spirits lift. Right now he had been broken by shame and frustration, with dozens of witnesses, but if they had a private conversation after the ball he would be able to compose himself better. The most experienced and seasoned courtiers delayed meetings regularly if there was a tangible benefit. In this case, she thought that if Totlya had time to consider and appreciate what they were willing to do for him, as well as cool his temper, he might be more forthcoming and cooperative.

"Of course, Duchess Solae," Lithyll calmly intoned with a reverent incline of his head. It would be his home that would function as a gathering place due to its proximity, as well as the fact he was their host.

Rosaria, for her part, was still pouting that there wasn't going to be a duel. She was not so callous as to want there to be death, but she found the banter incredibly boring, even when they were discussing chasing down a woman that had been purportedly abducted. For her this was not such an egregious crime; if she acknowledged that it was, she might have to deal with unresolved feelings she had about those that her previous mistress had obtained via force, or that she was not absolutely certain as to whether she was sold, or procured by more unscrupulous methods by Thorne. No one except Thorne knew with certainty. Lies came so easily to her technology could discern the truth from the fabrications that dropped from her lips.

Finally Yarue and Dasin had made their way around the crowd and arrived behind the engaged pair. The Kalderi had parted for them, but they kept staring at the curious aliens, more fascinated with the sight of them than they were with the humans. The two pretended not to notice the subtle gazes and stolen glances, still uncomfortable with the attention. "Does Miss Solae always feel... compelled to help others?" Dasin asked very seriously in a low rumbling whisper to Rene.

"She went out of her way to help us," Rosaria observed with crossed arms, keeping her voice low as well, so that the Syshin could hear her when they bent in close but the Kalderi, who were a respectful few feet away, would not. "It's like she a pathological need to be nice. I didn't think people like her existed after Thorne..." she murmured.

Yarue bobbed his head in agreement. They had not, during their time on the Bonaventure, candidly talked about how all three of them had been prisoners of Thorne in one way or another. Both Syshin had been as skeptical of Rosaria as they were of their benevolent human benefactors, but they had quietly noticed that Rosaria acted at times like a wounded animal, as if she was waiting were waiting for someone to lash out or act cruelly. Their experiences on Zatis were wildly divergent from the time they arrived into Thorne's care, but they were all victims of her psychopathic depravity, and what that could do when one was subjected to it for years with no end in sight.

"What is... path of logical?" Dasin inquired, the word beyond his comprehension. "Does she walk in logic?" He and Yarue peered at Rosaria expectantly while the teenager stared back at them, baffled, having briefly forgotten about their language barrier.

The Betrothed

With no fanfare to announce her arrival, Rhiane had arrived in her tent less than two minutes before the imposed deadline, falling into her chair with a sigh that belied the weight she felt upon her shoulders. The servants that prepared the royal breakfast had obviously been advised by either the queen or her favorite mouthpiece, Anelle, to restrict her options to 'healthy choices' that would slim her figure to their impossible standards. Surprisingly, her brother Gerald had rushed to the rescue, sacrificing his meal of eggs (rather than only the whites), crisped meat, and carbohydrates. At first she had resisted the gift, but she was too frustrated, upset, and stressed to not indulge herself with fatty deliciousness. She consoled herself with the fact that he was due to have groceries delivered shortly after his new appliances arrived later in the afternoon, special ordered and expedited, one of the first times she had thrown around her title as princess elect for anyone's benefit.

"I don't believe I saw that on the approved menu," Anelle asserted smugly as she strolled in with her typical haughty, condescending attitude. Two beauticians flanked the former farmer as they prepared her for the trials of the day ahead. One was brushing her hair, trimming stray split ends, and warming a ceramic iron to curl her bangs to match the aesthetic that had been selected by senior staff. The second cosmetologist was customizing a foundation specially equipped to not streak if Rhiane was brought to tears by the sight of her mother and brother's graves. No one had discussed the taboo topic aloud, but that did not mean they ignored the possibility that she would weep, or that they had not taken into account her probable emotional reaction. The monarchy expected them to anticipate the needs of the royalty without being explicitly told how to perform their jobs. Technically the brunette was not yet royalty, but she was close enough, and they knew that the queen would be judging their product with the same level of scrutiny if shoddy workmanship was spotted by the media.

"You're right, it's not," Rhiane retorted boldly, stabbing a piece of sausage with her fork before sticking it in her mouth and chewing unabashedly. For a brief moment Anelle was stunned into silence. She had always thought poorly of the commoner, for her low birth, misplaced pride in her previous life, and for not groveling in the presence of her superiors. That the woman had managed to sink her claws into Luke only made the aristocrat hate her even more. This was the first time, however, that Rhiane had confronted her so directly without resorting to passive aggressive behavior or veiled commentary.

"I will have have someone replace..." Anelle began with pursed lips.

"Not today, Satan," Rhiane replied defiantly, using a popular slang that was not used among the nobility in polite company, but whose meaning was clear enough. Outside her tent, one of her bodyguards giggled despite herself. It was an unusual scenario to say the least. Because she had been so warm, kind, considerate, and appreciative of the support staff, they had come to like her personally, even if social circumstances meant they were not comfortable forging a friendship with the peasant. On the other hand, Anelle was cold, distant, and quick to order around her subordinates, without an inkling of care about their lives, struggles, or difficulties. She considered herself above them both in terms of rank and as a image manager. They liked Rhiane, but did not respect her; they respected Anelle, but did not like her. It was what made the two working on her hair and cosmetics suppress their amusement to hear Anelle compared to Satan, and made a bodyguard giggle- they empathized with the sentiment and found it humorous it was said to her face.

"What did you just say?" Anelle gasped with indignant rage, cheeks red with fury, not just because a country bumpkin had dared to insult her, but also because another had dared to laugh. It was difficult to discern where her ire ended and her humiliation began. Rhiane had not kept her voice particularly quiet; this exchange would be a source of rumors that would tarnish her reputation among the entourage.

"Get out," Rhiane said as she leveled a hard stare on Anelle, unflinching, her expression deadly calm. "Get out of my tent before I ask Tobias to remove you. I have a difficult day ahead of me and I am not wasting another moment on your nonsense." She was not bluffing. If the prince's cousin was summoned, they both knew whom he would side with, and there would be an extra layer of embarrassment to be suffered if she was forcibly ejected from a tent in full view of the tour's royal retinue.

They probably all thought she had gone insane, but she had simply reached her breaking point. For weeks she had gone beyond every metric set before her in gaining the favor of the public. The upper echelon of the country was less convinced of her merit, but they would have been prejudiced against any princess elect, and their lack if enthusiasm was not reflective of her individually. If the throne continued to treat her as if she needed them, but they did not need her, that she was a charity case, a benevolent entity dispersing a favor, then she would make them swallow the bitter pill of consequences to follow. Were she to break the engagement she could seek other opportunities, but they would be stained, marred by her departure, for every candidate would be measured against her unprecedented success, and still some loyalists would vocalize their preference for Rhiane. Conspiracy theories would flourish about her reasons for turning down a life of wealth, fame, and recognition, with a handsome prince who apparently loved her. Discord would spread far and wide, suspicions would grow about the fairy tale romance's validity, and the rebellion would gain a stronger foothold in the populace.

She was a fool for thinking that Luke could reciprocate her feelings, that he would make grand gestures, that he would defend her any more than he would a toy of which he was inherently possessive. If she could not have love, if she could not have a pretense of mutual understanding, and civility, then she would force clarity. Rhiane was tired of waiting for everyone else to realize all the pieces on the chess board; she was not the queen, but she was also not the pawn, and she refused to accept treatment as if she was, as if she was anything or anyone that could be a convenient scapegoat or dumping ground for socioeconomic bias. "Which one will it be? My attendants need to finish getting me ready," she asked evenly.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I apologize," Solae cut in smoothly, her voice melodic and pleasant to the ears. To everyone else she was being diplomatic, polite, and effortlessly congenial, but her companions knew the calm tenor of her voice was a mask for the deadly strike hidden beneath her words. The golden-haired aristocrat had not been assigned to the New Concordian embassy as an act of nepotism or favoritism for the late marquise; she had earned her position with skill, knowledge, and a sharp wit, one that now intuitively guided her down a path of how to navigate this difficult foreign situation. "I would appreciate some clarity as an outsider of the community and culture," she said, with a respectful bow of her head to Andalyll and Lithyll. They dipped their heads in turn, and she could see that her gesture was appreciated, the crowd watching her without the same disdain in their eyes as when they regarded Totlya.

"Again, I apologize if I am misunderstanding, but a challenge against my fiance for me, yet the challenger is making accusations against humanity. I can not possibly speak for all of the human race, even as the ambassador for my empress; however, if I am required to do so, I humbly request that I speak with the representative for the entirety of the Kalderi race, as it would be only fair. Does Totlya speak for all Kalderi, this community, or himself only?" she inquired placidly, without a hint of aggression, though her question cut deep into the pride of the young male. No one in the room wielded authority over their species; were a comparison to be made, Solae had a voice for a vastly larger population, though the empire, than anyone else in attendance. Guests of the ball visibly cringed at the implication Totlya would speak for all of them, embarrassed for his behavior, and humiliated it could be interpreted as their opinion.

"Totlya has a voice as a challenger only," Andalyll affirmed, quick to point out the distinction when the opportunity was afforded to him. The duchess thought she spotted a fleeting expression of relief wash over the features of Lithyll that this would not be recounted later as an aggressive stance of Kalderi judgment.

Stepping forward, her dress sweeping the floor, the sapphire blue and gold decorations sparkling under the ambient light, she had the outward appearance of trying to distinguish herself visually from the group she had been conversing with until interrupted. In reality, she was putting herself closer to Renee. Confident as she was that she could run verbal circles around the male Kalderi that was addressing her, she was keenly aware that she could provoke him into anger. Dasin and Yarue had started to cut a wide circle around the room as if they too sensed how easily conflict could escalate into violence. The Kalderi on a whole were peaceful, but every populace had outliers, and she took her risks with an appropriate level of caution.

"I can not deny your right to challenge Sir Rene, but I must advise you that I was personally appointed by her highness, Empress Mercedez Viatrente, and can not be discharged from my duties by anyone except the empress. As this appointment is very close to her highness, and I have no heir to act in my stead, my obligations would come before those of my mate, unless they had a similar level of responsibility to their ruler and empire. If this is not the case with Sir Totlya, he would either have to travel with myself and my retinue to imperial space after my visit here has concluded, or else my absence will be viewed... severely. Her highness may consider it an act of war," she elaborated, eliciting a few scandalized gasps and murmurs, "and a certain adversary of mine seeks me, without virtue or honor. Sir Rene, as my mate, has had to protect me from assassination attempts made by the military forces of this adversary, as they use despicable means to obtain what they covet. Sir Totlya, do you still wish to challenge Sir Rene?"

Totlya did not blanche as a human did, but he had lost much of his bravado. It had flagged when Solae elaborated on how he would become secondary to her, assimilated into human society, and almost vanished completely after she had casually mentioned how his taking her for himself could be construed as an act of war. Mention of the threat of Duke Alexis Tan (though unnamed) had compelled him to change his mind about trying to win her by ritualistic combat. Every Kalderi was looking at Rene, whose accomplishments had been alluded to briefly, with a mixture of reverence and awe. If Solae had to wager a guess, Totlya had realized he did not have as good of a chance against the human as he first estimated.

"If it is agreeable to Sir Andalyll and Sir Lithyll," she continued, meeting their gazes and bowing her head respectfully a second time, "I would like to prove the good will and honorable intentions of myself, Sir Rene, and by extension, her highness Empress Mercedez Viatrente, by investigating your missing citizen."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

The diplomat carefully evaluated her options in that moment. Much as she wanted to dance with Rene immediately, there was the implication that once they did so that there would be an opening for another male to challenge the right to seek the duchess as his mate. Solae did not want her first impression to defined as beginning with two men battling over her, especially since the courtship ritual apparently had little or nothing to do with her feelings on potential suitors, and could lend itself to arguments that humanity was warlike in nature. They could not entirely avoid dancing- nor would she try- but it was possible to navigate the room to engage in pleasant conversation beforehand. Hopefully she could establish herself as an intelligent, compassionate representative of her race and government, creating a positive bias before conflict and debate. She had also noticed how her soldier beau grimaced when the topic of sparring was broached. A few delays would undoubtedly be appreciated before he had his mettle tested in front of a large audience.

With a nod to Lithyll to express her gratitude, as well as one to Yarue and Dasin to indicate they would be separating temporarily, she moved to a side of the event hall, Rosaria in tow. Truth be told, the Syshin would have greatly preferred to stay in close proximity to the humans they knew rather than speak with strangers, but the linguist had impressed upon them how important it was for them to make this venture on their own. In this formal setting it would be inappropriate to rely upon them as bodyguards barring an act of terrorism or assassination attempt. Solae could spend the rest of her life advocating for the aliens, but they had to make steps to gain their independence as well. Some of the resistance exhibited by Yarue and Dasin was because this new environment was stressful, some was because they did not have many similarities evident with the Kalderi, and though they did not voice it aloud, some was because they had spent years being a slave without agency. As empathetic as she was to their frustrations and struggles, this felt like a safe foray for them into the universe, a way to make a subset of the galaxy recognize them as Syshin, not just subjugated imperial citizens.

Although the Kalderi expressed apprehension about the humans, as was conveyed in their body languages and the subtleties of their interactions, curiosity overruled their reservations. By no stretch of the imagination were they a patriarchy, but some of them seemed surprised that it was Solae who was the person of greater importance, either because they perceived the Stellar Empire to favor men or because their own culture had such bias. The first group she approached was the most hesitant, but she broke the ice by complimenting their attire, delicately inquiring their names and about their passions, they warmed quickly. Soon she was was fielding more questions about humanity than she had prepared for- about nuances of their governing body, biology, culinary achievements, animal domestication, technology improvements at the opposite end of the borders (where the Kalderi could not observe), and ancient history. Here she relied on Rene intermittently to catch her breath. A few queries would have been frowned upon in the imperial courts, such as details of their physiology or personal lives, but the aristocrat didn't want to refuse them and breach etiquette.

What fascinated the Kalderi even more than a congenial wealth of information available in the form of Solae and Rene were the circumstances of their arrival. A few were obviously skeptical about the motivations of these seemingly overly generous humans, but they were sincerely amazed that the pair had chosen to free the Syshin they had gone out of their way to save, then making them employees who were compensated and respected for their contributions. Equally intriguing was Rosaria, the youth at their side who was not biologically related to them, yet they fed her, sheltered her, and taught her, treating her with affection. What little interaction the Kalderi had with humanity since the ancient days of hostility was from afar, a few trading with art pieces. They did not think the other bipedals were necessarily villainous, but they had come to assume they did not have a robust sense of community and cooperation, that they centered more on self than their peers. Solae's actions contradicted this assumption.

"This is boring," Rosaria complained to Rene quietly as she listened to the adults drone on about the contributions of sculpture to modern imperial architecture. Turning to look around her expression brightened suddenly. "Hey, I think a Kalderi is wandering over here to challenge you for Solae!" She did not share his sense of dread for melee; since she wasn't involved personally, she was quite excited to see the swordplay.

True to her word, there was an male Kalderi that was pointedly crossing the floor, albeit around the couples already dancing, his eyes fixed on the duchess whose back was turned.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Solae still wore the same gown as before, finding it the best representative of herself, her family, and the position she held in the Stellar Empire. If she was honest with herself, she also was inclined to keep on the dress that had left Rene speechless. While she was an ambassador, explorer, and duchess, she was also a woman absolutely smitten with a man, and she found herself incredibly biased towards the reactions of her beloved. Because he found her breathtaking in the hues of blue and gold, and his eyes had traced the flattering design, she felt twice as beautiful than when she was admiring herself in a mirror.

Lacking appropriate attire for a formal occasion, besides the suit that doubled as a uniform, both Yarue and Dasin had eagerly accepted the woven clothing generously gifted to them by their Kalderi hosts. It was of an obvious different style, but it marked the first major thread of commonality between the races, and the pair of Syshin had marveled over the craftsmanship between themselves. Both wore slacks tailored to their leg joints (a better fit than any previous) and a tunic that flowed from their shoulders to their knees. Unlike either the human or Kalderi, however, there was no metallic adornment. The Syshin's culture centered on the earth as it was rather then glittering gems or aesthetic decadence. They wore a deep chocolate brown with thread of sapphire blue, emerald green, and vibrant shades of orange and yellow that represented water, vegetation, the sun and sand of their home world. They had come far from the arid, windy planet, but it was still dear in their hearts, even if neither had personally set foot on one of its deserts.

"This is like a temple," Yarue observed in Syshin, his eyes following the kaleidoscope of colors dancing along the shifting walls. "Our kind comes from a place that does not have oceans like these," he added in the common tongue, making an effort to be polite by using the universal language. "Water is..." he turned to Solae for translation help and, once she gave him the word, continued, "sacred to us. I wish I could show my people this place."

It was more a furtive desire than a request, but Lithyll stared at him calmly for a moment and nodded. "We will make a recording on a crystal for you," he offered. "You will be able to use it to create a visual copy like your... holograms you call them. Would that be acceptable?"

Darue and Yasin bowed deeply, genuinely moved by such a gift. The former was so sincerely touched he emoted something like a melancholy joy, which did not have a name in the imperial tongue, but was nonetheless profound. Darue mourned that he could not provide the real experience, because he recognized how blessed he was to have found empathetic humans doing so much on his behalf, and aliens that were similarly understanding, and felt almost guilty that he could not share in the bounty. Happiness swelled inside him as well, though, that he could return to the Syshin with visions of magical places they could travel if Solae's equality endeavors were successful. He remained cautiously optimistic. No one doubted the truth of her passion, but remained to be seen if her convictions could persuade others enough to combat the prejudice inherent in their society.

"I'm ready," Rosaria announced, uncomfortable with the delays.

"Yes, let us proceed Lithyll. I'm very excited to have Sir Rene dance with me," she said with an unabashed wink to her beau.

The Betrothed

Reluctantly Sebastian took a seat next to Luke, though he did not touch the food. He was in an unusual predicament; he understood Rhiane's motivations and thoughts better than most, and he wanted to help her to the best of his ability, but he also respected her right to privacy. What compelled him to trust in Luke was what he had witnessed the day prior. Regardless of whether or not she admitted it, the former farmer clearly had caught some feelings towards the prince, and despite his sometimes aloof disposition, he suspected that the heir to the throne reciprocated a measure of these softer emotions. In different circumstances he would have remained a passive observer that did not involve themselves in the fledgling relationship- but his beloved sister-in-law's life was on the line. He could not, in good conscience, forfeit the opportunity to save her through the one person that might be able reach her in the way necessary to keep her from self-destructing.

"You may already know, but when her mother and Edwin fell ill, she did everything for them- she cooked for them, she cleaned up after them, she helped them bathe, held their hand, read to them, she gave up everything to take care of their every need. Once they passed Hubert and Gerard were so besides them in their grief they barely left their rooms, and so she kept herself busy, slowly taking over management of the house and the farm, never stopping. Of course she knew they were gone, we all did, but she never stopped to mourn, she kept focusing on problems and how to fix them," Sebastian admitted quietly. He knew that Luke wasn't necessarily looking for an in-depth review of the monotony of a peasant who had suffered a loss, but it provided a vital context. There were well-documented stages of grief that everyone went through: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Once could argue she had skipped a step or two, but it was clear that she could not have skipped all five and managed to heal the wounds left in her heart. That she still dreamed of her deceased brother was no coincidence.

"Going to their graves will force her to confront they are really gone and not coming back. She won't have the distraction of her family or business to keep her memories or the realization," he elaborated, hoping that Luke would personally empathize. Sebastian didn't talk of his own relatives. Even the palace was unable to determine much more than his country of origin. Their northern neighbor did not allow free access to their records, and so there was a touch of anonymity to the foreigner, one that he purposefully kept intact. Nothing about his behavior or appearance was worrying enough that New Rome considered him a threat in any way, and nationals migrated to the kingdom every day, but it would be a lie to say that there wasn't a little discomfort at the fact they could not dig as deeply for information on him individually as they could their own citizens.

Leaning back into a chair for a moment he stared down at the small device in his lap. It was not as sophisticated as the prince's, and was a few years outdated, but it was more sophisticated than the models the rest of the Black family used. After a moment's contemplation he sighed and rubbed his temple thoughtfully. "I won't impose on your further," he said, suddenly standing. "But I would be remiss if I didn't tell you I was concerned. More than once I've caught Rhiane implying it would have been better if she died instead of Violet, and it's always felt as if she was trying to find a way to punish herself for this 'mistake.' The guilt she carries for surviving, and the choices she's been making... she's creating a world in which no one needs her. We can try to protect her from the rebellion," he sighed, "but that won't help if she breaks down in the cemetery and resolves it would be better for everyone if she wasn't with us anymore."

It was a well-founded fear. By her nature the brunette was self-sacrificing, but her cavalier attitude towards her own mortality was not a bluff. Willpower had been the key to recovery with the poison, and if that failed then she could be even more susceptible to the machinations of the 'enemy.' If financial security could be guaranteed through either the queen or revolutionaries, no one would be dependent on her, and it was her own desires that would have to motivate her to actively engage with the world. Sebastian and Gerard had each other. Luke had an endless sea of available single women that would eagerly take her place, not the least of which was Anelle. The castle's staff, except Tobias, was indifferent to who was the princess elect so long as she obeyed their instructions and endured all the struggles. At the present she was still struggling for approval and validation from everyone, for although she had achieved greater heights than thought possible for a commoner future spouse, she did not perfectly fit the mold she was constantly being shoved into.

Stopping short of making a specific suggestion, Sebastian inclined his head and turned to take his leave. It would be improper to offer advice that was not solicited, especially to a man that would one day rule. He didn't want to earn himself a reprimand with Nolan hovering nearby, undoubtedly eager to eject the undeserving peasant from the tent. "Isn't it strange during all that yelling she didn't say she likes that Tobias fellow?" he mused to himself quietly, just loud enough Luke would overhear and give it some thought. True, Rhiane had been praising the positive attributes of the bodyguard, but she hadn't said anything reflecting that she saw him in a romantic light. The older man saw through the anger and thought Luke might as well; her furious diatribe was because she was unconsciously desperate for a few traits she knew could exist in her betrothed to be expressed, not because she had any inclination to leap into his cousin's arms.

The Betrothed

A few minutes passed in silence after Luke left before Tobias, apprehensive about upsetting Rhiane when she was already clearly emotional, knocked on her door. The princess elect wiped away a few tears that had appeared on her cheeks without her knowing and took a deep breath. Whether they had been tears of sadness or anger she did not know- probably both. Thinking about her mother and brother drove her into a deep despair that felt like a bottomless pit, yet at the same time she felt furious, bitter resentment towards the world full of people that had lived full lives with their family when she was robbed of precious memories. When they had been alive, Violet Black and Edwin Black had understood her best. That fate had coincidentally stolen the relatives in which she confided the most, sought the most, cherished the most felt exceedingly cruel.

"Rhiane?" Tobias called through the door. "Do you need me to get anything for you?" Technically he was her bodyguard, not her servant, but he was more than willing to fetch her a few items if it would ease her burden. He had mixed feelings about the praise of her words. While he was quietly proud that she appreciated various aspects of her personality, he knew she had spoken from a place of pain, that she had been spurred by disappointment due to Luke's inability to comprehend her state of mind. She wasn't ready yet to abandon her infatuation with his cousin.

"Can you get Sebastian for me?" she asked as she walked to her dresser and picked up her brush. Her brother-in-law would balk slightly at helping her get dressed, but given the alternatives she knew he would agree to help fasten and adjust her dress. She pulled on her underwear and fastened her bra into place as she heard her protector's footsteps recede down the hall. Rhiane was reluctant to leave home. When she had at first departed for the capital it had been an act of desperation to provide for what few people she had left in her life, but now she was not without options. As she stared at her own reflection she wondered if being Luke's bride was what was best for them both. He would not admit he liked her, he did not trust her, he hated their tour together, and she was fighting a war on all sides to defend herself. The former farmer was tired. If he could not be her sanctuary, and she his, if they couldn't be at least genuine friends, then it seemed folly to continue while wishing for an impossible outcome.

"You needed me?" Sebastian inquired. She quickly crossed the room and let him inside, her hair half-brushed, and her funeral dress laid out on the bed. To say it was a ominous sight to the foreigner was a vast understatement.

"Help me get into this thing," she replied with a rough gesture towards the black garment before squaring her shoulders resolutely, "and then I want you to take a message to Luke. Don't worry," Rhiane reassured as he looked at her with increasing concern, "it's nothing that will get you into trouble." Picking up a stray piece of paper and a pen she leaned over her desk, quickly jotting down a series of names off the top of her head. "I wouldn't ask you to do it if it wasn't important."

Five minutes before Luke's deadline Sebastian approached the heir to the throne's tent and was let in by a begrudging Nolan. "Sorry to interrupt," the blonde man apologized quickly, his voice low, mellow, and calm, a sharp contrast to the fiery dispositions of the family he had joined through his romantic ties with Gerard. "Rhiane wanted me to give you a list of names for the only people she wants to follow the two of you to the cemetery." He held out the folded sheet but waited for Luke to decide whether or not he would take it. She's asked that there be no video, still pictures only." It was a deviation from the plan. Listed were the reporters that had been the most considerate in their interviews of coverage; those that had been more critical, possessed a sharper tongue, questioned her sincerity, or had simply been rude were omitted. Because she was going to be so vulnerable during her mourning, Rhiane had thought letting anyone see her was a gift, and only wanted to reward those that would be empathetic. Requesting photographers but no video similarly kept the audience to a level of respectful observation.

"I doubt she's told you this, but she's doing this for you," Sebastian hesitantly stated. "She knows if she doesn't go then there would be damaging rumors and speculation. Since I've known her she's not visited them, not once. I know she's... difficult, but that's even trying to face this, face them, is more than I've seen her do for anyone else." And it was. Thought she was not consciously aware, Rhiane was once again martyring her emotional well-being on the altar of sacrifice to try to aid Luke's image through association. Had the stakes been less she would have not entertained the suggestion for a moment before darkly refusing. Children of neighbors had been paid to clean around the stones and keep the area tidy since the sultry brunette could not bear to gaze upon the physical reminder of the dead that haunted her dreams nightly.