“Welcome to my world,” Luke muttered, bowing to the farmer as the music faded to silence. Strange that a smile lingered on his lips while he thought back to how accurate her observation was. Ms. Black might not only be a pretty face and a beautiful body after all. Underneath the riches, the fame, and the prestige that came with being a member of the noble families, was the ugly truth that kinship and loyalty had no meaning in the world he was born in. It was a world where love, kindness, compassion were seen as weakness, and power was a currency more precious than gold. In his lifetime, he became witness to betrayals and murders among friends and families. Even his own father had fallen victim to this vicious world. He watched as she consented a dance with a man older than he, as she turned her back at him and casually walked away – as her dress accentuated her very feminine figure with her every step – then he wondered how long it would take for the court to turn this simple farm girl into one of the snakes at his mother’s court. Luke calmly walked to the edge of the dance floor, not wanting to be caught by any camera while watching his fiancée dance in the arms of another rich man, Lord Chausson. That would make an awfully degrading headline. But on the bright side, he was free of his charge at last. He plucked a glass of whiskey from a servant’s tray and drank to temporary freedom. Free to choose whose company to be with for the night. Drinking the contents of the glass in a few gulps, the crown prince walked towards a group of people consisting of three lords and two ladies. One of them saw him approaching and raised his half-empty cocktail to Luke’s direction. “Ah, his highness graces us with his presence,” said Luke’s cousin, and son of her mother’s brother, the Duke of Fremont (a region in modern day central France). “How does it feel to be engaged to a farmer?” The other three dared to laugh at his misfortune. They must have been talking about him the whole time. “You must feel lucky now, Marcel, that your father is not the king and you are too far off in the line of succession.” Luke shot back. “Fourth, dear cousin, I’m fourth in line. Not really that far.” The duke’s son shrugged. He was three years older than Luke. “But then if I will be forced to marry a commoner, I may as well abdicate. Knowing you, I’m surprised you haven’t already.” One of the ladies subtly placed herself between the crown prince and the duke’s son. She looped her free arm around Luke’s and leaned her loosely curled black hair against his shoulder, before butting in, “Well, he can’t let you get closer to the throne, can you now, Luke?” She was a tall woman, though not quite as tall as Rhiane, with glowing complexion that might have been medically enhanced. The features on her heart-shaped face was delicate, made more beautiful with the skillfully placed make-up, and accentuated with dark red lipstick. She was one of the more beautiful members of the upper class and was photographed with Luke by paparazzi more than once. “I know that you came for me,” Sophia Keller teased, watching him from beneath her thick eyelash extensions. He offered his arm to the lady. “I wouldn’t have walked this way otherwise, knowing that my cousin Marcel is within five-meter radius.” Marcel snickered. “What will your mother say, cousin Luke, when she finds out that you are with another woman on your engagement night? Or are you two starting to plan how to make it look like an accident?” He gestured his now empty glass to Luke then to Sophia. The prince tensed, but he managed to keep a tight leash on his temper. “The only funeral I am planning right now is yours, Marcel.” He turned to the other three who were silent the whole time to politely ask to be excused, before he and Sophia joined the crowd on the dance floor. He wondered where his fiancée was, whether she was still dancing with the lords, and how many feet did she already step on that night. As for him, he and Sophia shared more than one dance, talking and laughing at each other’s stories and jokes, before finally discretely exiting the ballroom and disappearing into the night.