She relaxes slightly and gives him a small, grateful smile.

One of the other bidders - he recognizes him by sight but can't place the name - is a known collector of redheads. He makes the opening bid for the girl with the flower in her hair. It's high but not outrageous.

Solekaran doubles it.

The collector makes a startled choking noise.

...It would be so inappropriate to giggle right now. She does not. Even if she's really tempted.

The collector, hesitantly, raises by half his original price.

Solekaran doubles him again.

No one else in the room wants this girl badly enough to part with the price of a modestly sized house in a good part of town. The auctioneer calls perfunctorily for further bids, is unsurprised not to get any, and sends her over to the scribe with his enchanted brush.

Solekaran gets up and comes down to collect her, looking... well, sad and withdrawn.

"...Are you okay?" she asks quietly.

He can't seem to meet her eyes.

"Ah, begging your pardon, sir, but whose mark...?" asks the scribe, picking up his brush and reaching for Lyrame's arm.

"Imperial," he says.

The scribe flinches.

Oh.

Well, that.

Um.

The Emperor waits patiently for the scribe to recover. It's only a few seconds, and then he holds the brush firmly and draws the Imperial seal on Lyrame's forearms, one and then the other, right above where the manacles circle her wrists. The ink glistens as it sinks into her skin, anchored indelibly there by magic.

"There you are, majesty," he says, ducking his head nervously.

"Thank you," says Solekaran. He flicks his fingers at her chains, and they unlock themselves and fall away.

"I--

I--

I--"

She looks at his face again.

She thinks.

"...Thank you.'

...he smiles slightly, the smile of someone who doesn't quite feel secure enough to be relieved, and gestures for her to follow him.

She follows him.

As soon as they step into the empty corridor outside the auction hall, he makes a gesture like he's brushing away cobwebs and the air in front of them opens up into a shimmering portal. He steps through.

She hesitates before stepping through after him.

The room on the other side is... Imperial.

Emperor Solekaran created this island from scratch with magic, palace and all. The walls and floor and ceiling are all of a piece, and it's a beautiful piece, a pale glimmering cloud-white stone with faint grey patterns not quite exactly like marble. The lights are magical, of the highest quality; he probably made them himself. Likewise the furniture - it's some sort of sitting room, and everything is sleek and plush and gorgeous and obviously exquisitely comfortable.

He plops himself down onto a lovely soft couch and looks up at her with a... somewhat mixed expression. Hesitant, regretful, affectionate, wry...

...maybe a little appreciative.

She considers this, and then sits down beside him and hugs him.

"So. The thing my father was worried about. Kind of turned out to be a big deal."

He goes briefly still with surprise, and then wraps his arms around her and scoops her into his lap for a proper cuddle.

"I noticed," he says wryly. "I went to the garden and you weren't there, so I followed the flower." He kisses her hair, just behind the fading blossom; it perks up at the touch of his breath.

"I'm glad I decided to wear it, then."

Hug. "I'm—"

"—you're taking this very well."

"...If...if I'm screwed, I'm screwed either way. If I'm not screwed, acting like I am could conceivably hurt."

...he laughs softly. "Can't fault your logic, I guess."

"And you could have hurt me at any time and you didn't. I mean, you're--you're the Emperor--you could hurt anyone at any time. But anyone could have hurt me in the situation we were in, all alone in those gardens. And you didn't. You were so nice."

"I like... going out alone sometimes and just - not being the Emperor for a while. It's why my face isn't widely known, I don't put it on the coins anymore, everything's the Imperial starburst - because that way it's easier, I don't have to mess around with illusions or any nonsense like that, as long as I'm not around people who know me I'm just... some rich guy. This isn't the first time I've talked to somebody that way - isn't the first time I've flirted with somebody, either - and when they find out it always ruins it. And they do always find out, if I keep coming back."

Snuggle.

"Yesterday morning I was hoping very badly that--that you would show up, so I--I could say goodbye. I thought--whoever bought me, wouldn't let me--that you'd never know what happened to me, that I'd never see the sunrise from those gardens again--"

Her voice cracks. Tears start running down her cheeks.

He holds her and kisses the top of her head.

"Please be real," she whispers, crying more freely now. "Please, please, let this not be a stupid fantasy about a stranger I met three times, please, I, I--"