The lives of the aristocracy were largely public, from the son of the least of the lords to the queen herself, the lens of the camera had always been seeking these people’s strongest and most vulnerable moments with no clear purpose whether as to build them up or tear their inherited titles apart. The endless fake smiles, backstabbing, and dirt digging were a precious mine of juicy gossips and news that entertained the general public. After all, these were the people who were and would be charting the future of the kingdom, and perhaps each and every person’s destiny. Manners and poise were therefore two indispensable tools in a new noblewoman’s starter pack. Luke understood that the farmer had not yet had the chance to attend classes on either, but still he called out, though still in a teasing tone, “Language, princess.” 

Expecting that a woman who had grown tilling the land in a relatively unknown town – at least unknown to him – whose company was perhaps livestock more than actual people would transform to a perfect lady was too much to ask. At least Rhiane possessed a natural poise and confidence that the court required at the minimum, but cursing and modulating the tone of her voice in situations out of her control could use some coaching. 

Luke’s thoughts were along those lines when finally his lack of sleep caught up and pulled him into unconsciousness. He was normally a light sleeper, but he did not steer when the princess elect joined him on the bed. 

Morning came too soon. The bedroom, despite the walls of glass, was still comfortably dim. The glass prevented the light from coming through by adapting its opaqueness to the time of the day. But anyway, the sun had not yet made its ascent. As Luke checked the time, he was not surprised that it was quarter before five in the morning. His body clock was used to getting up before dawn, with exception of when he had spent the night drinking or dallying with a lady. On that day, though, sleep would not claim him back even if he wanted to surrender to it. 

The crown prince slowly got off the bed, careful to not wake up the woman sleeping on the far end. He stopped at the foot of the bed, stared at the space he occupied, then to where she lay asleep, then wondered what was so abhorrent about him that she had to choose the farthest spot possible. Well, if she did not want his skin touching her, then he strongly felt the same. There were others who would sacrifice everything to be where she was, and Luke thought that Rhiane was squandering the opportunity given to her. 

Luke gave up on trying to figure out the peasant and instead checked on the computer that was propped on his desk. He quickly checked his schedule for the day that was logged by his virtual assistant, before heading to the bathroom for a shower and choosing his uniform, pins, and finally his boots. He was going to spend half of the day at the air base to oversee training drills and sit with the committee to discuss defense among other things. Sophia loved the air force uniform on him. She always commented that the color gray and the fit favored him, that it made the prince look more dashing than he already was. But to Luke, it was just another jacket with decorative pins. Regardless of what he thought, he would see her at lunch in his uniform.

His hair was still a bit wet, but he did what he can to keep the strands off his face, effectively pulling off and making quiff fashionable. He grabbed the hat that came with the uniform, tucked it under his arm, and prepared to leave when he paused as if remembering something. He should have called the queen earlier to confirm his freedom for the day. So, he dialed his mother’s number.

A sleepy voice picked-up the other end of the line. “Luke, my son, this better be an emergency.”

Luke leaned against the counter in the suite’s kitchen, looking at the other box of cannoli. Unlike him, the queen usually gets up much later, except on emergency situations. “Mum,” he greeted less stiff than the day before. “Have you spoken with Dr. Gulsvig?”

“Are you calling about the implant? Yes, dear, I turned it off last night. You have until six in the evening tonight.”

Luke frowned. “Who am I, Cinderella?”

The queen chuckled at the analogy. Her son was not used to having a curfew or restrictions in general, but well, actions had consequences. The queen reasoned that he did this to himself and her conscience was clean. “You have always, and will always be, prince charming, dearest. But be back by six in the evening. I’m planning a family dinner before you leave for the provinces tomorrow.”

“I’ll try my best,” he answered, not committed. “Get back to sleep, mum. I’ll call if I need more time.”

“No extensions. Don’t test me, Lucius. You know I love you and I am doing this for you.”


Not an hour had passed until the crown prince had left the castle’s premises. Unlike the day before, though, his mode of transport was in a car instead of a hovercraft. He sat at the back seat with his driver / bodyguard navigating the road. A car would command less attention, and besides he was not sure if Sophia’s taping location had a launch pad nearby.

Meanwile, on the nightstand at the side of the bed where he left Rhiane sleeping, were the plastic cards he was giving her the day before with a note that read “Happy independence day!” in his handwriting. If she happened to open the fridge, she would find a box similar to what he gave her the night before, although this one also had a note. It read, “Greed is definitely not good. Save some for me.”