Rhiane was correct, he did not read her file, nor did he care to get to know any of the contestants. Actually, the prince avoided the contest, which he thought was the biggest sham in the history of the earth, as much as he could. He did make appearances occasionally as was pre-planned during the pre-production meetings where his involvement was more of as an actor being briefed by the directors and producers of the show than an actual contributor. Although it may seem that the heir to the throne had a hand in selecting his future bride, it was not so. On the contrary, the queen, the prince consort, and their host of noble advisors made up the selection committee, believing that involving the heir to the decision making would only introduce bias. During his appearances, the prince was asked to recite rehearsed lines, much like what Luce Viscomi was asking of Rhiane.

“I am sorry for your family’s loss,” Luke offered, because it was the polite thing to say. He heard it from enough people that sometimes the sentence was an automatic response when somebody mentions a deceased loved one. “However, I was not informed that hypothermia is a contagious disease.” His face had grown serious at the topic of her immediate health condition. They both knew what she had went through out there in the island, how her body was battered to its limits by the cold autumn winds that she had lost the capacity to control her muscles. He had not forgotten how she limped her way back to the hovercraft, how she almost stumbled more than once, and how cold her skin felt against him. They were lucky that it seemed like nothing serious came out of it, but he would not take any chances. “After you’re done with your interview, we are going to a trip to the infirmary. Exciting, isn’t it? And you shouldn’t worry about me. I’ve been through worse. It wasn’t uncommon for me to go on without sleep for more than forty-eight hours and, for an even longer period with very little rest. No, I won’t fall asleep while listening to the host flatter you.”

A lot of women he was acquainted with would love the flattery. It was the fastest way to their hearts, and he understood as much because he had found the secret passage himself. The twins, Nico and Philip, who looked up to him, though their collective pride would never admit it, had found a different method, which was to use their older brother as bait. Anyway, he was expecting an interview that was full of meaningless flattery – the interviewer flattering Rhiane then Rhiane flinging sweet words at the crown. He wondered how the princess elect would take it, how a person who had nothing most of her life would react to suddenly being idolized by the general public. 

“If it gets too boring though,” he contemplated after finishing his sandwich and getting back to his pasta. “I might consider collapsing just to add spice to the broadcast. Imagine how they will all react to that.”

But, of course he would do no such thing. If he hid a very common ailment such as a migraine from almost everyone, there was no way he would show weakness expressly on a live broadcast. What he told her that morning was true – any form of weakness was not taken kindly by the court. An appointment that either the queen or his heir missed due to health problems would spark a rumor among the noble houses. Any malicious mind could conclude that the ruler was not fit to lead the kingdom if the ruler had issues with his or her health. It was the rationale behind the contests, to select the best genepool for the royal lineage to maintain its supremacy over all other noble houses. It was also the reason why neither Philip nor Nico were not in line for the throne. 

“Before I forget, Rhiane. After you mentioned our ‘impromptu date’ to our Ms. Manager, she might have told it to your interviewer as the reason for our tardiness. It may be raised during the interview. In case that happens, don’t even say a hint where we’ve been this afternoon. Understood?”